Ὴ ψυχή μου

I understand why, instead of simply yearning to arrive, I should ‘pray that the road be long, full of adventures, full of knowledge’ [νὰ εὔχεσαι νἆναι μακρὺς ὀ δρόμος, γεμάτος περιπέτειες, γεμάτος γνώσεις… na efkesay nanee makrees o dromos, yematos peripeties, yematos gnosees…pray that the road is long, full of adventure, full of knowledge] If I miss those adventures and extract no knowledge, the failure’s in me - ὴ ψυχή μου – in my lack of choice feelings - ἐκλεκτὴ συγκίνησις. Thus the world – any world - can be transformed by me, and I need encounter only that ugliness I carry within myself. Thus I cross the adventureless flatlands of Gatwick - a place whose management necessarily strive through actuarial calculation to avoid adventure, in the name of risk avoidance. For Cavafy who died in 1933 flying, which I doubt he did, was still an adventure, but in 2010 apprehensions about getting to the airport on time and, once there, boarding a plane, has almost erased the apprehensions that made flying intrinsically exciting.
Instead of anticipating hazard in the air, I anticipate it on the ground; industrial action by airport staff on the date of our flight, a train from Birmingham that breaks down and is diverted – because it’s Sunday, missing train tickets  - “I swear I had them”,  mislaid passports, unprinted boarding passes, milling around the cloned shops of the main concourse with crowds of fellow travellers, routine flight delays, missing a flight call - “Lucky I checked”, ingeniously novel security routines, new hold baggage rules, the risk that stressed by these prospects – most of which don’t occur - I will, on being ordered to observe some seemingly pointless regulation, become incensed and be led away by airport police and banned from flying. To maintain equanimity I smile a lot, hoping to produce natural analgesics, but the curve of my mouth, unrepresentative of my real feelings, becomes a rictus. By way of remedy I repeat, under my breath, the lines “…νὰ εὔχεσαι νἆναι μακρὺς ὀ δρόμος, γεμάτος περιπέτειες, γεμάτος γνώσεις.”

Yet after hardly an hour’s extra wait we had front seats on an EasyJet airbus, I with coveted leg room courtesy of Speedy Boarding, a following wind to Greece that almost made up our delay, a genial pilot keeping us in touch with progress, an impeccably efficient cabin steward and crew, a pleasant picnic made up at home that morning (smoked salmon in new bread rolls), the usual easy run from the plane to arrivals at Kapodistria; our car waiting for the completion of minimal paperwork and we’re driving through Corfu city heading the 15 kilometres north to Ano Korakiana and Democracy Street in the warm darkness, arriving around midnight to a house tidied by Honey, fridge humming, bed made, and sleak familiar cats paying court to our return. Roughly unpacked, we stood on our new balcony and gazed on moonlight quiet and I wondered what I’d been grumbling about.

*** ***

Water heater not working: what would Ulysses have done?

On Monday morning I got up to find our water boiler wasn’t working. Γεμάτος περιπέτειες, γεμάτος γνώσεις. Of Ian and George the electricians we know one was too busy, the other unobtainable. We discussed. “There’s a thermostat and an element. Start there.” We visited Fran and David for tea – always helpful. Dave told us of a plumbing supplier opposite Sconto at Tzavros and took us through draining the tank, removing suspect parts. Back at the house I started the drain, which shrank to a trickle, then, having disconnected the electrics after putting a photo of the wiring on my laptop, I used a bottle spanner on five bolts holding the element in the boiler. Easing off the last, the rubber gland burst free from the cavity. A rush of brown water full of white flakes of lime soaked me, flowed into the hall, where it was mopped and swept by Lin, soon drying in the heat. The plumbers’ supplier had just the parts needed. Nikos there gave me careful instructions on reconnection, and with the new thermostat and element sold me plumber’s string - στεγανοπόιτικο νημα σωληνωςεών - for sealing pipe joints. As a double check I had Alan take me through the circuit diagram to be sure I grasped the principles. Once home Lin did the rewiring, re-attached the housing below the boiler, while I tightened the plumbing. We stood clear as we closed the circuit breaker and pressed the hot water switch in the hall. On came the thermostat light; no seepage from the pipes; water began warming.

Water in the taps was acrid and stale even in tea from months without rain and withering heat, though all around is green, our small garden overgrown with vigorous weeds, soon cleared with bill hook, and small saw. We sat out on our new balcony – the old one at last replaced – and as we’d promised ourselves and Vasiliki, Natasha and Lefteris – said ‘γειά σας!’ and ‘καλημέρα – to people passing on Democracy Street. We looked at the curves that Alan had crafted on the porch, the oval that lightened the shade, the wooden insets above our door and on the little cupboard, the cornices and mouldings on every step and the smooth firmness of Michali’s sturdy railings. I carried our small marble-top table on to the balcony. Lin added two wooden chairs. Our public connection to the street – cut off by the previous owners - is re-established. Nikos, husband of Sophia, whose old house on Democracy Street has been so finely restored, was passing and stopped to greet us. He wound down his car window “We like your balcony very much. Alan is an artist!”

We called on our neighbours and enjoyed coffee and news of just how hot it has been, even for villagers. Tentatively trying out some of my new Greek words I found they seemed to work, and Natasha added with more, helping explain the contrasting uses of Omega - Ω - and Omikron – Ο. Omega tends to be for actions, verbs, doing things, while Omikron is for nouns and adjectives and so on. Later with Val, Lin’s cousin, come to stay from New Zealand, Vasiliki brought round fruit from her garden garnished with flowers.

Everyone accorded praise to the balcony, stairs and porch. Leftheris told me of the church tower he and his brother Nikos have been building below the village, using cornice moulds he’s borrowed from those Alan made for the balcony.

We’ll go and visit this tomorrow. On Friday we went at last to visit the island’s iconic Pontikonissi – the picture from Corfu on brochures, tea towels, place mats and coasters – which invariably omit its proximity to the large carpark at the end of the airport runway. It's nicknamed Mouse Island because, when they were easier to see, the steps up to the church seemed like a mouse's tail. Even so when we got to the small chapel on the well-used island assailed by the deep roar of aircraft engines revving for take-off or the shadows of planes passing hardly a hundred feet above I was drawn to the place – something about a boat ride to a small island to see an old church dissolved jaundice. It seems to have evaded commodification.

** ** **

Harvesting gossip in Ipsos and checking on Summer Song, I learn that Dave and Trish have sold their boat to Russians and, worn down by new planning laws abandoned the plot on which they’ve hoped to build a house, returning to live on their son’s Ben’s boat, while looking out for another for themselves. We’ve learned that Dave and Fran, tired of a neighbour from hell with ever-barking dogs and other anti-social habits about which the authorities have been unable or unwilling to act, have sold their house to an Athenian doctor who’ll head the neuro-surgery department in the new hospital at Kontokali. We’ve heard of a series of skillful robberies in the village – a few months ago – in the early hours when sleep tends to be deepest. No violence and only cash. One entry was through a window the glass they’d broken wounding the burglar whose blood has linked an arrested man to the crime. In the village yet more houses have been renovated. Work continues on others.

Today and yesterday it has rained – slowly but steadily increasing. Βρέξει. It’s grey, overcast, mild and good for the ground. Already the water’s better from the taps. But it’s a great shame that rain did not arrive two days earlier as seven fires, the worst of them on the mountain tops above Skripero blown towards us, spreading smoke across the landscape and through the village. Democracy Street was full of shared chat, the children excited. One after another the fire planes and helicopters have headed up from the south, hardly a mile apart, bombing the flames with water; all next day continuing to damp down the fire margins. Heat, wind and dried undergrowth befriended fire but seven on one day attracts the suspicion of arson.
_____________________________
Early Saturday morning Val was phoned by her son in Dunedin with news of the worst earthquake in New Zealand since the 1930s - centred on Christchurch about four hours' fast drive north of Dunedin. We've been following events, relieved at the low casualties (so far no deaths) in part because the quake came when most people were asleep at home. 

Digging

I woke to pattering on the dry earth dreaming it was Sunday. Flea, the cat, paused at the door of the conservatory before tip toeing into the garden. She's pondering rain we've not had for nearly a month. She scurries over to the flower border and works her way fastidiously beneath the intertwined greenery of honeysuckle, verbena and trailing wisteria to lurk where damp won't reach. Our water butt's already brimming.

Yesterday I worked on our allotment - on and off. Some gardeners, often with the help of their families, including toddlers riddling stones, have been making stalwart and enviably impressive progress on their plots since the allotments opened on 12 June.

Working our allotment on the VJA from Simon Baddeley on Vimeo

On Sunday afternoon, I took the video camera with me and made a record that I shall enjoy using as part of a before-and-after diary of progress. Right now I'm very much 'before'. At the Sons of Rest pavilion on Saturday those present agreed to defer setting up an allotments association and arranged to have a larger and better publicised meeting in the community shed on the allotments on Saturday 11 September. On Saturday about twelve turned up - typical of first meetings. Though few, we were optimistic about being able to form an association and a management committee to oversea the collection of rents due to the City on 1 October 2010 and carry out the other tasks that Clive Birch, who was there with Christine Brown from the Birmingham & District Allotments Association, outlined for us, handing round a model constitution. Rachel and I, community activists over years in Handsworth, have made an informal pact to be supportive but not to get involved. We really don't want to distracted from the work needed on our adjoining plots. Yet the incident of the missing beehive is already attracting my attention, and I find myself discussing it with other gardeners. The plotholder next to the one with the beehive complained about it on the grounds that he was allergic to bee-stings.

I understand the complaint was considered by one of the council allotment officers and it was suggested that the beekeeper moved to another plot. Not wanting to get involved in repeated movement of her bees the beekeeper has taken her hive to a local apiary. Gardeners I've spoken to think this an unfortunate precedent. We already miss the hive, good for the vital process of pollination. I'm allergic too stings, but regard that as my problem not the bees' or their keeper's. No doubt this will be an issue for the association when it's formed. (see: June 3 piece on popularity of bee-keeping)

* * *

Honey sent us a composite of Katerina, Eleni and Vasiliki, dear neighbours, who've been saying nice things about Alan's work which is now focused on the porch below the near completed balcony.

Email from Honey earlier in the week:

...Leftheri has asked Alan where he can get a cornice mold like the one he used for your balcony. I'm surprised at how all the neighbors come and admire the work being done. The old woman across the street has gotten so enthusiastic about it, she has offered you a 6 foot plant with purple flowers that climbs. I told her that you didn't know yet what you were putting on the pot spot and you could tell her when you come. You are still having your heat wave? Ha! First it's nonstop rain, now a long hot summer. You'll probably come here with a good tan. From England!

Reply:

Dear Honey... Good things make more good things. It’s not just a porch, stairs, railings and balcony...What a joy to see our dear neighbours together. Next time you see them send our love and let them know how we look forward to being with them again...those people whose kindness we value so much laughing together in front of Alan’s porch. I think there’s an energy in the village at a bad time for Greece that goes with the news that the old band building is going to be restored and there’s a real prospect that the football pitch down by St Athanassios will be made playable, and a fine new wall around St.Nicholas Church on the way into the village, and then there’s all the improvements in a time of unprecedented recession being carried out on different houses in Ano Korakiana.

*** Corfucius publicises a rather good new free service advertising events on the island. WhatsUp-Corfu@live.com

** ** ** My friend and colleague Prof Tony Bovaird has gives predictions about the impact of public spending cuts in the UK - his blog giving an opportunity to narrowcast what he couldn't cover in Tuesday's broadcast interview on BBC Midlands Today. There's 'bad news and good news'.

...Of course, you may well be able to turn from the Big State to get some help from the Big Society. But there’s likely to be bad news there, too. The recession has increased the number of people volunteering to help out others – but reduced the capacity of third sector organisations to use them productively, because they too are short of funds to organise themselves.

So, some tips:

• Don’t get ill (just protecting NHS spend won’t be enough to provide the likely number of future users with current service quality levels).

• Don’t let anyone you depend on for support get ill (or leave the neighbourhood).

• Be (VERY) nice to your neighbours (you may be needing them a lot more in future).

• Start saving – if you need any public service in the future, you may well not be able to get it or you may have to pay a large part of it when you do get it.

• If you’re young, start learning a foreign language (you may need to go abroad if you want a public sector job in the future – or a public service).

• Take up ‘easy access’ leisure activities like walking and birdwatching – anything that requires public sector provision, like swimming or sports centres, may be too expensive for you or too far away from you in the future.

It’s a pity that the coalition government parties don’t want to talk about these inevitable consequences of their decisions. The new era of ‘transparency’ is being spun as fast as the previous era of ‘transformation’...

** ** ** On gardening our allotment Paul Peacock sends me reassurance - of sorts 'Keep it up buddy - it's a marathon, not a sprint.'. I follow his podcasts on starting from scratch. We'll meet up on Thursday.

** ** **

Sir Muir Russell's report on the Climate Research Unit's (CRU) email leak/theft, though supportive of the science, will do rather little to erode the accelerated scepticism that followed last year's scandal at the University of East Anglia.

Climate science is a matter of such global importance, that the highest standards of honesty, rigour and openness are needed in its conduct. On the specific allegations made against the behaviour of CRU scientists, we find that their rigour and honesty as scientists are not in doubt

The second of the three key findings is positive for CRU:

In addition, we do not find that their behaviour has prejudiced the balance of advice given to policy makers. In particular, we did not find any evidence of behaviour that might undermine the conclusions of the IPCC assessments. The report does find that issues relating to openness.

But we do find that there has been a consistent pattern of failing to display the proper degree of openness, both on the part of the CRU scientists and on the part of the UEA, who failed to recognise not only the significance of statutory requirements but also the risk to the reputation of the University and, indeed, to the credibility of UK climate science.

We find that CRU’s responses to reasonable requests for information were unhelpful and defensive.

The biggest criticism relates to the 1999 WMO report:

…the figure supplied for the WMO Report was misleading. We do not find that it is misleading to curtail reconstructions at some point per se, or to splice data, but we believe that both of these procedures should have been made plain – ideally in the figure but certainly clearly described in either the caption or the text.

* * * On the Greek economic crisis there have been two competing 'narratives' about the Greek economic crisis - one os the story of a corrupt top-heavy public sector; the other is the story of a debt crisis precipitated by feckless banking practices:

...There are two key reasons why the Greek narrative has become a time-worn cautionary tale of people living beyond their means, rather than a case of financial irresponsibility on the part of bankers and investors...

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