Friday, March 20/2015

The day of the solar eclipse. Hardly worth messing with pinhole cameras this far south in order to see - possibly - a 15% bite out of the sun. So we go for coffee and forget about it until the sky darkens, but only with rain and, briefly, hail, interrupting our walk home. Stop for bread at our favourite bakery on the way and discover, courtesy of the owner, that our favourite dense rye is actually a yeastless sourdough, as is the white village loaf which he insists on giving us as a present. Want to ask about the rye but can't remember the name in Greek. Do remember the French, but that's not much help.