Clouds gather over Santorini

 How quickly does honey turn to ashes. We are stuck in Santorini, and though the sun still shines it has turned into a cold and malevolent prison. This afternoon, we had a phone call from the vet in Haverhill to let us know that our dog, Bronte, was seriously ill with a large sarcoma in the spleen. There was already evidence of metastases, and she was considered to have but a short time to live. Mary-Ann is going to pick her up and look after her. But BA have just rung to say their flight home tomorrow has been cancelled, and we will be stuck here until Friday at the earliest. Edwin has been looking for other flights, but nothing is available, all alternative flights have already been booked or cancelled by the other airlines. It is as though war has been declaired, and we are caught behind the lines, desperate to get out.

STOP PRESS: We now learn that the Air Traffic Controllers are going on 24hour strike tomorrow (Thursday) and that's why the flight's cancelled. All flights have been cancelled from Santorini, and Athens, so no one is leaving Greece until Friday. Apparantly, the strike is because they haven't been paid their wages - Greece is nearly bankrupt, so we can't even blame their greed. Everyone needs to be paid for the work they do, but it's the poor travelling public who are paying. It is certainly not the way to encourage a return of tourists to Greece. We have had to fight for one more night in the hotel: everyone who should have left needs an extra day too, and they've run out of rooms. We've managed to keep ours, but poor Edwin has to change rooms early tomorrow morning.

Santorini sun

Our holiday in Santorini has finally happened. We originally chose October to go, thinking the world would be well past Covid by now. Ha ha! When we left, we even faced two week's quarantine on our return, though Greece has had so few cases, but happily that restriction has just been dropped, so we should be free to roam on our return - unless we face new local lockdowns. We hear on the news that three areas circling Hundon have rising cases: Haverhill, Newmarket and Bury, so they may impose some local restrictions for West Suffolk.

Santorini is the after effect of the biggest volcanic eruption in recorded history. The huge blast blew out a volcanic ring 18 km wide, now erroded in many places to form the cyclades, round a vast, deep sea-filled caldera.  Our hotel is built down the nearly vertical side of the ring, and in common with all other hotels in this part of the island, the rooms are cave-like holes drilled into the rock, lit by windows facing the caldera. The town above, Oia, is a single narrow road that peters out to a footpath paved with marble slabs and lined with beatifully clean pristine shops, that still seem untouched at the end of the season, through lack of visitors. Everywhere is quiet, the many restaurants and bars mostly empty. The locals are delighted to get our custom, and cheered when they heard on the BBC news that the Cyclades had been removed from the British quarantine list.

The steps up to the town from the hotel rooms are steep and irregular, cut into the side of the cliff face. The porters run up and down carrying suitcases, or heavy industrial cleaners, or even one with a fridge balanced on his shoulder to replace some failed appliance. But we find the steps hard going, with me gasping for breath and having to pause regularly, and Ann struggling with her broken foot. We have bought her a walking stick to help her balance and footing. We did not chose this hotel, having selected one further round near a beach, but it closed early and BA transferred us without giving choice. We manage by limiting our trips to town, and timing them carefully.

   

Preparing for Santorini

Ben captured in oils

Ben has been the hardest subject to capture in oils. He has deep set, thoughtful eyes, and a half smile in a rugged, handsome face that hides a deep personality. I have worked over and struggled with this portrait for a long time, but have to end at some point. Mere canvas does not do Ben justice, but I hope he will not be too dissatisfied. 

Today, finally, we are off on our much delayed holiday. We have been unable to build excitement by looking forward to it, knowing it could be cancelled at any moment. Also, the treat is dampened by the thought of having to wear masks all day, possibly even when walking in the streets, and browsing in shops or casual meetings are no-gos. We were originally going to Thailand but that was cancelled long ago. Then we had a holiday booked with Lucy and her family at CentreParc and that too went by the board. Now we leave for Santorini in the morning. It is an early flight so we will spend a night in a Heathrow hotel. 

We spent yesterday getting ready with a last minute visit to the garden centre for hay, sawdust and food for the guinea pig, and extra dog treats and food. We have to make sure the animals will be alright.

Byron - another picture completed!

The smallest pub in England

We visited Bury last week, the first time for a while. I bought a book and a few bits from the art shop while Ann looked for holiday clothes. She found very little - the shops have removed their summer things, and replaced them with drab winter gear. Everywhere is quiet; customers have deserted the town. The Nutmeg, billing itself the smallest pub in England, that can normally only take ten customers crowding together at the bar and was always busy, has been forced by the new regulations to put tables on the pavement, but even there, there were but two customers. 

Our two gardeners have been slaving in the continuous rain for eight hours. They insisted on coming, despite the weather. It wasn't raining when they started, and hoped Ann's description of the weather was pessimistic, but they are just starting out and need all the work they can get. They did a brilliant job though.

I have been working on a portrait of Byron, as a commission request from Ann. He only has a black coat flecked with white and brown, so compared with subtle skin tones it didn't take too long. I finally finished it this afternoon as the gardeners buzzed outside with their lawnmower and hedge trimmer. I do love working with oils though, as the colours seem to shade so well and give such crisp outlines.

A portrait of Byron

 

Welcome to some good news

Welcome to baby Arwen

 Good news at last - after a tumultuous day and evening, during which Rosie had bad pre-eclampsia with all its symptoms, they team at King's Lynn decided to operate this morning to get baby out quickly. We had a message just after 10am that Rosie was going down to theatre, but then silence. We could only wait anxiously, fearing for them more with each moment that dragged slowly past. Then, in mid afternoon came a call from Matthew to say she had been delivered safely and was well. Baby was small as expected - but just over 4lb (nearly 2kg), so bigger than we feared, and able to breath unaided, though incubated and given oxygen like any prem. So welcome to the world, baby Arwen, and we all look forward to meeting you. Alas it may be a little while, as under the new rules we are all barred from hospital visits.

Last night, we had an unexpected invite to visit Eds and Andre for a meal, to celebrate the end of their two week quarantine. They made us welcome and served a grand veggie roast meal for us with all trimmings. It will be the last time we see Andre for a while; he goes back to Brazil on Sunday for his sister's wedding, and will be in quarantine again for another two weeks when he returns. 

And Luke gets a new car

Now another bit of good news - grandson Luke, having passed his driving test (delayed because of Covid) has got his new car.

Tonight, we will welcome Rae and Malcolm again to another take-away meal, and hopefully a chance to watch the video we couldn't see last week because of the blackout. They will be coming to look after the dogs on Sunday while we're away, so this is the last chance for a get-together before then.

Fish and chips by candle light

Candlelit supper with friends

The ice cream van no longer sits in Clare park, a sure indication of summer's end. Yesterday, an autumnal gale swept Hundon, dislodging branches and carpeting the road and lawn with an early fall of green leaves. Miles away, a falling tree brought down a power line, leaving Hundon and many other villages without power for twelve hours; normally a small problem, but tonight we had invited our friends Malcolm and Rae to a meal and video. Happily, our local pub, the Rose and Crown, now does meals to take out, so we were able to have a candle-lit supper of fish and chips for them, and mushroom stroganof for us, helped along by copious wine. We were able to make coffee with a portable gas stove, but we have no portable heater and the room grew steadily colder, falling to below 15 degrees, leaving us wrapped in coats and blankets by the time we went to bed. The power came on again about 2 a.m., waking me with the television coming back on and the door bell chiming.

I am tortured by three demons who straddle my body each night. The first strikes when I go to bed, with pruritis moving as ball lightning across my body; first the neck then the arms, migrating to the back which I can't scratch, like a plague of red ants digging in with pneumatic excavators, leaving vivid red spots to mark their passage and each bite. I take ibuprofen and plaster various creams and lotions to the points I can reach. An hour or so after getting to sleep, I awaken with the pain in my arm where I fell (see: A touch of sun in darkening days). I take co-codamol and go down stairs to make a cup of tea and lie in my chair where it gradually eases and I can return to bed. Then an hour later the third devil strikes, bringing cramps to both legs. I take a quinine tablet and hobble round the bathroom on blended knees massaging my legs till it eases. Then in another hour, the arm pain returns. Ann has propped a pillow under it to see if soft support helps, then generously gets up to see to the dogs giving me another precious hour to try and sleep. 

We get two gardeners

 We finally managed to get a gardener in response to Ann's request on the Hundon Facebook page, following the failure of the previous one to return. He is called Henry, and came round immediately as he's just starting out, and had bought a sparkling new lawnmower. He eyed the garden and said it would take two people all day, so I'm glad I didn't attempt to start it. He then left to pick up his mate, George, and between them they have done a very thorough job. At one point, there was a sudden deluge, and being green they tried to keep mowing the lawn though the rain must have been blinding them. We suggested  they put the mower in the side shed and wait in the house with a cup of tea and a biscuit.

Going to Clare with the dogs, I was unable to park anywhere on the High Street or in the Market Square, so ended up behind the Swan again. Like falling from a horse, I think it best to face the place of the fall without trepidation or hesitation. Getting back, I thought it only fair to order a drink as a token payment towards using the Swan's carpark. The new government rules are complicated. I sat in the garden with the dogs, but the garden serving hatch is now closed so I went in. It's table service only so we're not allowed to order drinks from the bar. I duly ordered a brandy to take out, but Nick brought out a glass with only a two-thirds measure, as he'd not got the new order in yet. But at least he let me have it "on the house", as I carried it carefully back into the garden. 

The pain in my shoulder from the fall is now reduced to a dull ache. If it were in the mouth, I'd see a dentist and have it out, as it does make driving harder. The shoulder won't easily move round to follow the wheel, so I have to feed it through the right hand using the left.