At present we are in the midst of an untypical heatwave for this time of year; it’s the type of heat that Athenians expect in August when they, very sensibly, leave Athens to the tourists and the the few fools who didn’t organise their annual leave very sensibly. Yesterday it hit 40 degrees on my balcony and even with all the shutters closed against the sun the fan was merely muddling warm air around the room. It is so warm that even the Athenians are complaining about it. The best 4 euros I have ever spent has been on a folding fan that I can carry on the metro and buses with me. Yesterday I thought that I could easily walk the 800 metres or so to the metro station but by the time I arrived there I thought that I was going to pass out. I no longer do anything quickly. Sleep is difficult to come by. If I sleep without the fan then I’m wakened by being too hot and if I sleep with the fan then I’m wakened by the whirring of the motor. Sleep, when it does come, isn’t a deep sleep so there are many weird, waking dreams mostly involving being slowly grilled on a spit.
But we do have the islands and the sea and it’s only 30 minutes to the beach where we can go for an early evening swim. We’ve gone native this week by not eating dinner before 9.30pm. Perhaps in a few weeks time I’ll have the octopus hanging on my washing line to dry out for dinner. And I have lemons growing on my balcony which is wonderful.
Maybe I should rename this blog: Don’t Mention The Sweating