Sunday, 20th April, 2025
I suppose I have to wish you all Happy Easter although I don’t really know why other than convention dictates. Like Christmas and other religious festivals, it is reduced to consumerist activities.

Chocolate is the function of Easter and barbecues. Neither look likely for me today. I am not allowed chocolate and I’m not that keen on it anyway. The morning has started off with light rain and, although it will improve during the day, it is not looking like barbecue weather. We have always made it the one time of the year when we ate Roast Lamb but not today. It will be salmon instead.
Of course, we spent so many Easters in Greece – every single one from 1998 / 2014 – where Πάσχα (Pascha) is bigger than Christmas and spit-roast lamb was obligatory. It dominates cultural life across the country, the media and on the island where people come together. I don’t know how many actually believe but the tradition is very strong and bonds people in a common cause.

A lot of it is bound up in food. Meat-free Lent is still observed by many. On Sifnos, the Revithia Soupa or Chickpea Soup which is served every Sunday symbolises this abstinence. Easter week sees endless carcasses of slaughtered local sheep in white shroud bags being delivered to every household in time for the spit roast outside in the inevitable sunshine. Looking at it now, it turns my stomach. Fatty, oily meat served with chips. No! No! No!
Monday, 21st April, 2025
A cool, grey morning. Bank Holiday – I can’t be doing with them! I sometimes think I’m odd. (Don’t answer that!) When I’m in a calm and successful routine, I have to check whether a shop is open and what time. I have to wade through throngs at the beach – although not this morning.

I actually wanted to go to a Bank branch for the first time in months and they are all closed. Why aren’t people out working? Actually, I don’t really go in for celebrating events – birthdays, national days, etc.. I prefer the routines of daily life partly because I don’t go to work and need a rest or a change. Some people around me really throw themselves into these national holidays and I find myself questioning my rationale.

And then I realise that I am not alone. This morning, I stand side by side with …. Boris Johnson’s sister, of all people. Rachael Johnson’s old article in The Telegraph echoes my preference for routine. People have told me in the past that I should mark every significant land mark because it graduates the timeline but I think I do that every day in different ways.
I mark time in my own way. Just 15 years ago this week, having driven from Huddersfield via Hull-Zeebrugge to Ancona-Patras and Piraeus-Sifnos, we were unpacking the car of all sorts of stuff we needed for 6 months away including a flat screen television, a large supply of French and Italian wine picked up en route and a glass fruit bowl our dear friend Viv had given us for Christmas. In it we put lemons we had picked from our trees.



As soon as Easter celebrations were over, we settled into the familiar way of life which involved all the normal things of living anywhere but with a Mediterranean twist. Trips to the Bank of Greece are made all the more homely by knowing everyone who works there next to the pottery shop whose pots adorn the outside of the bank. Buying and cooking Octopus (Χταπόδι) to eat with salad outside under the pergola. Tending the garden and clearing the weeds from the flowering shrubs. Walking and swimming in the increasing heat.
This is how I celebrate and mark the passage of time. It may be anti-social but I don’t need national landmarks of time to do it for me. Anyway, I’ve given myself a good talking to and now I’m going in the Gym to do some Stength Work. I have to use this rowing machine every day and I will!
Tuesday, 22nd April, 2025
Out early on a lovely, morning. I’m going for a blood test. Occasionally, the hospital ask me to have a surgery test to set against my home test to validate the calibration of my own machine. I don’t complain although it is a bit annoying. I’m retired and have the time. I appreciate their concern. Anyway, the result has come back on my Health app within 2hrs of my sample being sent to the Lab for analysis and we are just 0.1 apart. I passed the test.
From the Surgery where they took blood out, I drove on to a Bank branch near the beach where I could pay cash in. I have never done this physically before.

There is a rank of automatic teller machines which accept wads of notes, rapidly counts, sends to my account and prints a receipt all within 30 seconds. The last time I paid cash in physically, it was to an real person across a counter. Today, the irony was that a real person assessed my age, decided I was too old to do it on my own and stepped forward to personally take me through the process. Actually, without him, I could have read the instructions on the machine and done it for myself but I didn’t want to spoil his moment.
I never have real money. I have never held a modern note. Today, they felt like ‘toy’ or Monopoly money – plastic, light and unreal. What was wonderful was to put a wad of £1000.00 of mixed denomination notes all into the same slot in one go and see the machine instantly count and recognise their different values, reporting the total in the blink of an eye. It even got the total right first time. It’s not a process that I would do on a regular basis but pleasing none the less.
I am still dieting, exercising and staying alcohol-free. It is becoming such a way of life that I am afraid of stopping. I am actually addicted to my eating pattern and particularly this alcohol-free wine. Had to go to Tesco this morning to buy in some more stock. I have done this since August 27th, 2024 – almost 8 months. I will have a break when I travel in May, and then again with each trip over the Summer. Otherwise at home I will try to keep it going.

I am just trying to keep Life going. Everywhere we are reminded how fragile it is. This morning I learnt of a lad who was in my College but two years younger than me had died aged 71 of Acute Myeloid Leukemia – cancer of the blood. He only learnt recently that he had it. Symptoms usually develop over a few weeks, not months or years so there is little warning and so little time to prepare. I am notoriously a planner. There are some things I must and will do before I die …. unless I get knocked down by a bus tomorrow!
Wednesday, 23rd April, 2025
Had a terrible night of turmoil. Woke up at 4.00 am thinking of people dying before me. Mad, I know. The rain was heavy over night. May be that woke me but I put the radio on, couldn’t concentrate and turned it off again. Told myself to get a grip but ignored myself and continued to toss and turn.
This morning the sun is strong and warm. The garden is washed clean and the sky is blue. I can’t go out yet because Parcel Force are delivering my new coffee maker and Evri are delivering my new (smaller) shorts and tee shirts.
As I was writing that last paragraph, it arrived. How exciting! Fortunately, it is wholly intutive to assemble and I have it up and running within minutes. The coffee is wonderful. Two Cappuccinos so far and they are wonderful.
Everything is growing well now. All the seedlings are potted up. The lettuces and parsley sown in the beds is all coming through. My under gardener has sorted it all out for me while I play with my new coffee maker. Now going out for a walk in the sunshine followed by a good Gym session.
I have been watching an American Spy/Secret Service drama called Homeland for what seems like forever. Actually, I am on the last 5 hours out of a total of 96 – 8 series x 12 episodes. I have loved it and looked forward to my time in the Gym for this alone never mind the workout. I am going to miss it. A lot more of the exercise will be done outside for the next 6 months but I’m going to try the British drama – Succession – largely thought to be based on the Murdoch Family machinations – to help me.
Thursday, 24th April, 2025
A nice, warm morning. Out early to do shopping. We had an appointment at Honda tomorow which has just been cancelled and I had a medical which has just been cancelled and rearranged from a day when I will be flying to Thessaloniki. Had to rearrange them both hurriedly.
My little brother, Bob, who is a seriously good photographer in retirement, has just had a third article published in the Royal Photographic Society magazine DIGIT. Good for him. You can read it here.
For many years while I we were working, we had private medical insurance through BUPA. I dread to add up how much it cost me because I never once used it. For me, it was an insurance policy alone. My wife used it a few times and most frighteningly when she found a lump developing in her arm. I remember, I had to drive to Birmingham and stay over while she was being treated for what turned out to be completely benign event. She had a couple of other operations in Yorkshire under the scheme as well so she might have just broken even in a cost-benefit analysis.

These projected costs per person don’t take into account existing conditions. I have atrial fibrillation, and diet-controlled Type 2 diabetes. I will always have prostate cancer on my history. My Bupa rate per year would be at least double the suggested cost. We would be paying out at least £750.00 per month/£9,000.00 a year. If the NHS can’t help us in a reasonable time frame, we will just buy a private treatment.

In retirement, the BUPA scheme has proved too costly to justify but the NHS service here is very reassuring. I am lucky to know that, if I need to buy a procedure, I can afford to buy it privately. Health spending per person in the UK is about £2,000 a year up to the age of 45, then starts to escalate. By age 85, the average cost is £13,000 a year. The only thing that would make me go privately would be time. Life is short at our age and I can’t afford to sit around waiting for treatment. A College friend waited two years before he got a hip replacement. Another waited that long for a cataract replacement. I will not put my life on hold for two years at this stage. Feels immoral but needs must.
Friday, 25th April, 2025
Gorgeously warm and sunny morning. This week is ending as the new week promises real Summer weather. Friday already. Going to be busy again. Before that, I’ve been playing with my new coffee maker. So much to learn. I have bought the beans I like and set the grind to the coarseness I prefer.

I bought these ‘cool’ double-wall coffee glasses – a set each for Espresso, Latte Machiato and Capuccino. Of course, they make the drinks taste even better.
I’m starting to work my way through all the different drinks available automatically. There are 12 different hot coffees. So far, out of Espresso, Caffe Latte, Latte Machiato, Capuccino, Americano and Flat White, the Latte Machiato made with skimmed milk is my favourite. I like a light sprinkling of chocolate powder on the top. Got to control how many I drink in a day.
My old coffee maker is going to the Tip today along with so many boxes from recent purchases. I tend to keep them all until I am happy with their performance and then throw the packaging away. My coffee maker has a 2 year warranty which it ought to do for a £750.00 purchase. It will need its box retaining for that. The Gym roof is packed with empty boxes from warrantied purchases. Gradually, they get weeded out and off to the Tip. I am going on to the Garden Centre after that and then walking. See what you’re missing, Dear Reader.
Still going hard at the fitness. Still covering over 8 miles a day. still doing a Gym session each day although my 96 hours of Homeland is coming to a sad end. I have just 10 mins left. I am a hopeless romantic and I am finding the ending unbearable. Of course, it takes my mind off the pain of the effort. Not so long ago, I was at the Athens Marathon which is held in October so the temperature is a little less energy sapping.

On Sunday, both London and Manchester Marathons are being held when the temperature may just be hotter than Athens this year. Bring your shorts and tee shirt, Dear Reader. I’m wearing nothing more until the end of November this year. Mind you, I will be in the Canaries for the whole of November.
Saturday, 26th April, 2025
I went to bed and have woken up feeling incredibly sad. I am sad about time and separation. Someone told me once that self pity was very unattractive. It was said deliberately to hurt me but I’m sure they are right. I think I am feeling self pity as I survey the disappearing time. It is almost the end of April and 2025 is hurtling along. I am 74 …. rising 75. Tomorrow, my Mother will have been dead for 17 years. I feel as if Life is passing me by. Sorry.
I was born into a nominally Roman Catholic family or so it felt at the time. Actually, it wasn’t really referred to (I now realise deliberately) but my father was not a Christian. He was a member of the Free Masons – a fraternal organization with a long history, tracing its roots to medieval guilds of stonemasons. He would put on his black suit and shiny black shoes and his long, black coat and go out once a week to the Lodge for meetings and rose to become the Lodge Master as his father had before him.
I found out that Freemasonry is not a religion, and while members – only men – are required to believe in a supreme being, the specific faith is not mandated. Dad did not go to church. In fact, the trappings of Masonry are archaic and quite scary if looked at too carefully. Secret words, weird dress and symbols, secret handshakes.
Of course Roman Catholicism is just as weird. Ceremonies where they chuck ‘holy’ water over you, blow stinking incense smoke over you, chant nonsense songs with you and talk to non-existent beings has got to be insane.
Talking about insane, I remember once being with my Mother in Derby where we came across a tramp with dishevelled hair and long beard – looking more like Jesus than Jesus. He was talking to God. Because it was in the street, my Mother tutted and crossed the road at such signs of madness but couldn’t see the irony in her response. Roman Catholocism died with my Mother for me and my brothers and sisters.
After I’d left home, I would phone my Mother twice a week not because we had a close relationship. We didn’t. She always made it clear what a disappointment I was to her and what a failure she saw in me. I did it because I felt a sense of duty and responsibility after her difficult life following my Father’s early death. Those phone calls were rarely easy and often combative. I liked to discuss politics – she was a Tory – and religion. We argued about both constantly. One remark stayed with me. I tried to persuade her that the whole thing was a social construct and she replied, Why would you want to deny me comfort in dying? as if she knew it was nonsense but needed something to cling to beyond the grave – another life. A tacit self-delusion

That uncomfortable blend of right wing politics and religion is found in Rome this morning. An essentially left wing man is being buried and his successor elected. Sounds like politics doesn’t it? Actually, it is a religious leader. Pope Francis was a man of the people, of the under dog, of the poor and yet we hear that the Roman Catholic church wants to retrench and become more structurally tradional again. Particularly, we hear that Trump & Vance are lobbying for a pope in their image. Whether they manage that or not will have huge consequences for the dwindling number of Roman Catholics in the world.
For me, all religion will remain a nonsense. I will not look to some imaginary being to raise my spirits. I will wallow in the sadness of self pity what ever it looks like.