Today it is raining. The temperature is 7 degrees. The sky is a uniform grey and the sea looks … lumpy. But none of this would matter - well, not really - if I could get my broadband back. At the moment I’m satisfying my cravings by using yet another friend’s PC (all these PCs ..) on dial up, because her modem was also fried. Same storm. Demon are still trying - they rang an hour ago to promise that a BT person would either phone or appear at the door. Maybe it will have happened by the time I go home. Meanwhile, dearly beloved reader(s), don’t forget me - it’s bad enough that the line is dead without feeling I am dead too!
And in Crete the sun will be shining, and the wind blowing the wine-dark sea into white foam, and it will be hot. The white roses at my bedroom door bloomed and drooped within days even though I watered them. Nothing is drooping here except under the weight of rain. Everything is fiercely, aggressively green. But my internet holiday has gone on too long.
And now I must go home and make the lunch.