Before I came on holiday someone suggested I find myself a Greek man while I was here. I am happy to report I have found three. Their combined age is around 190.
We have Costas who I mentioned the other night. He owns my favourite place in the world and clearly has an obsession with kitchen roll.
There is Panos who runs the cigarette-and -everything-else-you-can-think-of shop in this village. Every night he teaches me a bit of Greek, I memorise it til I get to the taverna, scribble it phonetically on the table cloth, rip the piece off and stuff it in my purse so I can remind myself before he tests me the next night. My purse is now full of scraps of table cloth.
And finally there is the lovely Nico. He has the only bar /shop in a mountain village almost wiped out by an earthquake in the 50’s. It contains a live parrot, a huge stuffed vulture and for sale, a lot of tinned luncheon meat and air fresheners. He makes a damn good Greek coffee too.
So, that’s the pick of the buch. All so lovely that i couldn’t choose between them if i tried :o)
And here is Nico: