Mr Andreas has invited the long-stay residents to a small barbecue at one. Maggi and I have taken, unkindly perhaps, to calling him Uriah Heep (after Dickens' overly 'umble character), as even in issuing the invitation he is almost wringing his hands in apology for interrupting my low key web surfing. It's kind, though, and before one we can smell the pork souvla cooking - knuckles of pork with meat of varying tenderness attached, finger food for all but the most fastidious. there are also chips and village bread and a large bowl of salad, as well as wine and beer (Coke too, but I don't see anyone drinking it). It's held in the courtyard by the swimming pool. (Have never seen anyone swimming in the pool, but it's shirtsleeve weather and one could). The long-stayers are mostly Norwegian, and M, of course, speaks Norwegian, having lived in Norway since the 80's. but many of the Norwegians speak quite good English, and we visit with Knut and Rigmar (sp?), the couple from the studio next door, both of them artists. Amateur? Don't know , but they've spent time working at a studio in Florence and are interesting to talk to. Knut, his wife says, learned English at school, but she lived in the country where it was't offered and had to teach herself - making an excellent job of it.Really, the occasion would have been a pleasure with the drink and chat even if there were no food. As J pours my first glass of wine into the light plastic cup, Phitos backs into me, spilling wine on my hand and the paving stones. Wouldn't mind except for looking tipsy before having a drink but no one pays any heed at all, least of all Phitos who seems quite unaware of having done it.
JAWORSKI TRAVELS