You may remember that my shower arrangements at the Greek Hovel are somewhat rudimentary. I attach a picture of the shower, aka a hose pipe dropping down from the vine on the "snake terrace."
In the summer it is great. The water comes up the hill in metal pipes and so arrives at a perfect temperature and showering is real pleasure. But now it is winter. It is almost zero at night. So what to do?
Well it brings back memories of Warwich School for boys. After rugby it was a compulsory shower watched over by an unmarried master who paid close attention to ensuring we all showered. The less said abiut that the better. But the showers were always freezing and you just sort of ran in at one end and out at the far end as soon as you could.
And so it is at the Greek hovel. Put it this way, with the Mrs not here I feel no compulsion to shower every day. But after a few days needs must. This morning, nursing a stinking hangover, it was almost therapeutic. That is not to say that it was enjoyable.
As to the hangover, well it was my friends in Kambos who led me astray again: Nikko, George and Vangelis. All three felt some concern about my ability to bike home and so it was agreed that Vangelis - who had only had about 12 ouzos - would give me a lift in his car up the winding mud track to the hovel. Fear not...I am not drink driving!