Dogs And Builders Just Don't Mix

We are building houses in St. Georges and we have two teams of builders working. Our own house has been leaking like a sieve for the past few years but the time is never right to take off the roof to replace it. This year - after the earlier hail and rainstorms - we decided we could not last another winter without a new roof.

Logically we should take one of the building teams to do our house, but for some inexplicable reason my husband employed a third team - “well recommended” - so that we did not delay the building in St. Georges. Good plan.

On the prescribed day (after daughter went back to London and before son arrived from London) the team arrived. One man and his wife. Now we have at least three, sometimes four or five, and we still have the first builder and his wife.

Our dog Scruff is used to having his own dog-proofed garden which has been made escape-proof because he is prone to chase cars and chickens. First rule to builders - don't let the dog out! First action of builders - they left the back fence totally open and off he went. Finally cornered him before he hit the road with the car and dire threats! New plan; dog is either indoors in his (my) armchair or tied up in the front garden, then when I come home and the builders leave at around 4pm I do a circuit of the garden to close all ways of escape and Scruff runs free. This enables him to root about for any rubbish they have left behind (yesterday 6 sardine tins, 8 water bottles, carrier bags, coffee cups etc.) and distribute them all over the garden as he enjoys himself running through any wet concrete left behind. Theoretically he is free to run until 7am when they arrive to start the new day.

Except yesterday I closed the garden and went out to show houses at 6.30pm leaving Scruff peacefully wandering. I happened to be showing the house next door to mine to the clients and as we looked around the garden I spotted a brown flash at the top of the next field - Scruff. Asked clients to wait (they were very understanding), jumped in car (thank god for Fiat Panda 4 x 4), bumped over the field, trapped him by a fence where he was making friends with two boxer dogs, dragged him in the car, hurtled back home, tied him up and went back for clients. Great amusement all round.

Later on I checked how he got out. The builders had kindly left pallets piled up by the fence and he had used them to climb up and over. So I spent a happy half hour upending pallets, dragging old sunbeds, bits of wood and general junk to block the exit, and it seemed to work.

This morning,at 7am the builders very carefully took it all down, opening up the gap again, and the guys who delivered the roof tiles and wood dropped them over the fence - only they didn't… they dropped them on the fence which has now collapsed. So the dog stays either in my chair or tied up for as long as it takes.

Oh yes, and they just came to move the solar panels out of the way so I suspect we have a 'limited' water supply.
Our villa in Halikouna is empty this week and we have one St. George show house empty and the temptation is to move to one of those but how can I face a total removal, not just for us - son arrives on Sunday for a month - but also for the dog! So anyone who sees me, if I have dust and debris in my hair (a piece of ceiling fell in my coffee as I write this) please be sympathetic!
Diana

Some Things Never Change

When I first came to live in Corfu, many of the villagers did their shoping from the little lorries that drove around the island with all their wares hanging off the side of the lorry. This has faded away to a certain extent but last week I was out with some clients, doing the round of a selection of properties.

On our way to the first piece of land in Boukari we saw a lorry laden with bedspreads hanging everywhere - on the back, on the tailboard, on the sides, on the bonnet - as it made its way down the tiny beach road which winds down the south coast from Messonghi, through Boukari, and on down to the fishing village of Petriti. Through the loudspeaker he announced that all his stock was 15 euros.

We looked at the land, went to the next piece of land, then a potentially lovely development just crying out to be completed, and then started up the hill inland. Half way up the steep hill we saw him again approaching the village of Kouspades. We went off to look at another village house, then started back down towards the coast and there he was again!

We veered off to a tiny beach called Kaliviotis (I had heard of it but despite having lived here for more than 25 years I had never actually been) and the phrase “off the beaten track” certainly applies. We looked at a house nearby, wandered down to the beach, chatted to some of the locals who have built their houses right by the beach, watched a couple of fishing boats come in, and then left to head back towards Corfu Town.

On one of the dirt track roads, what a surprise, there he was again - dust flying up from the wheels and all the bedspreads hung on the lorry, with the loudspeaker blaring - the best bedspreads on the planet, now only 11 euros each!

We stopped briefly in the village of Argyrades and then left for our final stretch back up the coast on the main road and yes, there he was again!

In all that time I never saw anyone stop him to buy anything but he never stopped trying. In fact when I left home the next morning I half expected to see him just down the road from my house, still proclaiming the 'best bedspreads on the planet'! Nice to see some things don't change.
Diana

A Baptism

The trouble with making regular contributions to a blog like this one is that if you are actually doing lots of interesting stuff you don't have time to write about it afterwards.

I've had a really busy two weeks, with my three UK-based sons visiting us in Corfu, plus my sister-in-law and niece from Athens, for the christening of our first grandchild - daughter of Mia and Marcus, the editors of Island Magazine.

It was a case of all hands on deck to help with the provision of a huge celebratory feast after the baptism service which took place in the Monastery of Vlaherena in Skripero.

The Greek Orthodox ceremony is an amazing experience. The first part - at the back of the church - is basically an exorcism, during which the godparent undertakes to denounce evil powers on behalf of the baby.

Only after the child has thus been cleansed do the participants
(mother, baby, godparent and priest) move to the front of the church for the baptism. To be absolutely sure of doing a proper job, no part of the baby is left un-wetted - but luckily the star of the proceedings soon recovered from the ordeal to rejoice in her, now official, name of Phaedra Valentina.

Traditionally, she should have been known only as Beba until after the christening, and sometimes a godparent takes it upon his or herself to choose the baby's name, so that the parents only learn what their child will be called when it is too late to wish they had chosen a godparent with better taste!

One of my English friends in Athens experienced this first hand. She thought the godfather was joking when he told her that it was his job to give the baby's name to the priest, and her precious little one went in to the church as Ben and came out as Poseidon!
Susan