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Oh... Where did February go? I only blinked and there it was gone!
Ah well, that's life on Corfu for you. Time seems to stop being of any great importance after a while and one day/week/month just blurs into the next.
I woke up this morning with the words of one of my favourite poets running through my brain:
"The Spring is sprung, the grass is riz,
I wonders where the birdies is,
Here come the birds upon the wing,
But that's absurd, I always thought the wing was on the bird."
Spike Milligan (although sometimes attributed to others including Ogden Nash)
The sunshine was streaming in through our windows, the sky blue and cloudless, the birdsong a cacophony of tiny voices. In fact in the small wee hours I'd been awoken by light streaming in, making me wrongly think it was time to get up; only to realise after regaining consciousness that it was the bright, white moon that was lighting my way.
I woke the children then went downstairs to prepare breakfasts, packed lunches and feed the cat. Putting the cat's food outside on the doorstep I realised the air temperature was already considerably warmer than it was at the same time a few days ago, so I think I can fairly safely say that Spring is indeed sprung.
I love this time of year in Corfu, it's warm but not uncomfortably hot, the flowers are blooming in the olive groves and hedgerows, and the colours are vibrant. Everything and everyone is beginning to wake up and the island isn't yet filled with visitors, who, whilst very welcome (not to mention necessary) do change the persona of the place and the pace of life here.
Of course, it's not all sunshine and daisies. On the grand scale of things we do have a few tinsy difficulties. The country is in economic meltdown, austerity measures will hit an already stretched populace. Yes, it is argued that many got away with flouting the rules for many years, and maybe there is some truth in that. If (says she with the experience of one who worked in a revenue gathering environment in the UK for a number of years) you can afford a good accountant you can save a fortune by implementing tax avoidance schemes. No breaking of laws, just an interesting interpretation of them. But those who can't afford the good accountant to begin with were probably not saving a hugely significant amount from that which should have gone into the public coffers in the first place. And of course there is a train of thought that suggests that rather a lot of what did find its way into the Greek public coffers then made its way out again and into the pockets of certain politicians and people of influence... Just hearsay though, you understand...
Well, in doing our bit of belt tightening we're (or perhaps more correctly Tony's) getting more and more involved with growing our own this year. Our polytunnels are up, we've invested in a rotovator and the garden is beginning to teem with seedlings and new growth. To help protect our asset after last year's lettuce nicker we decided to get a dog. We had originally said we'd get a puppy, but then a couple of weeks ago we heard about Dylan.
Dylan was rescued from the side of the road where he'd been dumped, at just a few weeks old, around 18 months ago. His saviour, an Englishwoman, for reasons beyond her control now finds herself having to return to the UK and unable to take him along. I weighed up the options:
Puppy = negatives: lots of noise, in the house for first few weeks, cost of injections, spaying/castration, training and eventually getting it used to an outdoor life. Positives: very cute, cuddly and the kids will love it.
Dylan= positives: already jabbed, 'done', used to living outside, comes with his own kennel, needs a home. Negatives: not small, cute and fluffy.
The practicalities of offering Dylan a home seemed to outweigh the cuteness of a puppy, so we opted for Dylan. Which just goes to prove how much theory and practice can be different.
We now have a medium sized, extremely strong dog who firmly believes he is still a cute, cuddly puppy. No Dylan, you can't sit on my lap whilst I'm working. No Dylan get off the furniture - and don't you DARE bare your teeth at me when I try to sit on MY bed.
Dylan trashes everything that he can. He arrived with the toy he had for Christmas. Within a hour of getting to us he'd completely obliterated it and was making a start on one of Niamh's dolls.
Dylan is now living in the garden with his kennel and his cushions. At least he did have cushions to sleep on, but he's turned the garden into a snowstorm by shredding the cushions, eaten one corner of his kennel and is busy digging holes wherever he gets the chance. But has he TOUCHED the huge doggie chew I bought him? No chance!
Now, before you say, he's bored, he needs walking, he is walked twice daily. We were warned that it is impossible to wear him out, yet on Sunday I managed to. I walked from Acharavi to Almeros on the beach whilst he ran rings around me. On the way back to the car he didn't pull on his lead once, and he sat quietly in the back all the way home. Definitely tired out. Of course this didn't stop him from trashing the cushions, again, within a couple of hours of getting back!
Yesterday morning I went to the garden to feed and walk Dylan. I arrived to the sight of the second snowstorm in as many days, so whilst he had his breakfast I filled a carrier bag with the shredded innards of the cushions. My bag filled to bursting with stuffing I then clipped Dylan on his lead and let him pull me along the bank of the stream as we set off for our walk.
En route we have to cross the stream, which is more of a small canal, the natural path of the water flow having been enhanced many years ago by a man made gully. It's not massive, a fairly easy jump even with dodgy knees like mine. But, with the worlds biggest puppy pulling you along and a large bag of rubbish as a counterbalance the jump can be made more complicated.
When we arrived at the crossing point I decided to throw the bag across before making the leap myself. Dylan went first, then the bag, which then gently rolled back on itself and straight into the fast flowing stream! I hauled Dylan back onto the pathway side and chased after the bag, which conveniently got stuck. The channel at this point was over 2ft deep and I couldn't reach the bag, so I used a long stick. As the bag began to split and the stick broke, loosening the bag and sending it further on its trip downstream I realised that the contents, now wet, were highly absorbent and weighed about 5kg...
I chased after it and eventually it became snagged again, this time on a shallower stretch of the stream. By laying down flat I could JUST reach it. So I laid down flat, on the anthill, dog pulling me one way, me teetering on the edge... would I go headfirst into the stream? Thankfully not, and after a couple of attempts I managed to fish the sodden bag out! By this time it had ripped quite badly so I had to head home and find a bin liner to tidy it all into.
Meanwhile, Dylan is becoming a multiple pooh dog, stopping every 10m to leave another little present... preferably in the new stinging nettles that are sprouting up in the hedgerows, making it really interesting for me to bag up.
Whose bright idea was it to get a dog now? Remind me?
Aggghhhhh.....
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