I don’t think I should write another Blog without talking about the murder of Eugene Terreblanche. It will be noticed that at his funeral a number of his mourning followers indulged in the old fascist salute as the hearse went by. Will they never learn?
A black politician sings a song, “kill the Boers” and the ANC support him so obviously they will never learn either.
But for those who may not know, Terreblanche was the extreme right wing leader of an organisation called The Afrikaner Resistance Movement. During World War 2 some Afrikaners, sympathising with Nazi Germany formed an organisation known as Die Broederbond – the band of brothers. They considered General Smuts a traitor for taking South Africa into the war on the side of Great Britain. And why indeed should the Boer have any love for or sympathise with the British who burnt down their homesteads and invented the concentration camp in which so many of their women and children died? And earlier The Great trek was the direct result of British politics in the Cape of Good Hope.
You could say, despite segregation in the states, that the Afrikaner invented apartheid and never wanted to see the end of it. They feared being swamped, as one of Terreblanche’s followers said, “They’ve got the country, what more do they want?” and, although there are those, with British connections for example, who can skedaddle if they feel so endangered, the Boers are African and have nowhere to go. Since the ending of apartheid it is estimated that 3000 farmers in the Transvaal, sorry what used to be the Transvaal – now partly Mpumalanga – have been murdered. The big question is, have these murders been racially motivated or the result of the way the Boer has always treated his servants and workers and believed in his divine right to be the baas and behave as he wished. The sjambok is a very dangerous form of whip and many a black skin has felt its lashes and one wonders how many blacks have been killed by their white masters, deliberately or accidentally. Terreblanche himself served three years for attempted murder and in the instance of his own death it is claimed it was because of an alleged dispute about wages which I can very well believe, though that does not excuse the violent result.
South Africa is considered by the rest of the world to be the most dangerous place in which to live and yes indeed there is the most horrific crime rate; a great deal of it black against black and Indian, but any worse than say Mexico? The White farmer does not take into account just how many blacks have been murdered since the end of apartheid and some of it no doubt racially motivated but most of it economic. If you’ve got what I haven’t got and I want it I will take it from you. Is it any worse than say Philadelphia where it is reputed you can be killed in the street for the trainers you are wearing?
England recently has begun to pride itself on being multi-cultural. South Africa unfortunately is a land of many tribes. There are about fourteen or so Black tribes, an Indian tribe, a Cape Coloured (that is half caste) tribe, an Afrikaans tribe and an English tribe.
People outside of South Africa obviously know about the Zulu tribe and, because of Mandela, probably the Xhosa, but consider the other languages of the country: Ndebele, Sepedi, Tschivenda, Siswali, Swahili, Kissonga, Sesotho, Swazi, Koi, Nama, San. Add to this about eleven other languages from Europe and Asia and you will see it is quite a mix and there is no doubt that tribal rivalries can still be a source of problems. But I will have to continue this another time.

“The most villainous looking set of hope-abandoned thieves I ever saw” - A description of the UK’s departing members of parliament? Most apt but no; Albert Smith’s description of a group of Chinese priests in the city of Canton. Is Canton still Canton or is it now named something else? Street names, town names, country names, they change so fast. Will the next lot of M.P’s the British vote in next month be any better than the last? and he who casts the first stone, glass houses and all that, let the Brits no longer sneer about Greek corruption or any other country’s corruption because they are all at it. Little piggy snouts in big piggy troughs, endless tax payers’ money to spend. What I find difficult to understand is how every country seems to be in the red. Even China is reporting a trade deficit. Are there any that have an enormous balance of payments surplus? And, if so, how do they manage it and aren’t they the lucky ones?
I have just finished burning two discs of “The Cinelli Vases”. After my previous near disaster losing the hard drive and a whole heap of information with it, despite Spiro’s brave attempts to rescue it all and only managing to rescue some, a fair part admittedly but still only some, in fact a goodly portion of “The Cinelli Vases” disappeared so now no chances are taken; every bit of writing is burnt onto those two CD’s as a matter of course. In fact I don’t wait until the end but do it as I go along. Better safe than sorry and all those other old clichés. Come to think of it I wonder if Elf and Safety use that as their motto.
What I find completely mind-blowing is the whole process takes no more than a few seconds – a complete 90000 word novel is burnt in that short time. It’s little wonder we’re all going around the twist. The speed of change is so rapid the human brain can’t cope, mine can’t anyway. Only kidding – I think.
Looking back to the early days, the little Olympic portable typewriter I carried with me to locations; I took it to the south of France when I was working for Sydney Box and I remember I took it to Madrid when I was writing that silly Xavier Cugat TV special that in the end came to nought, and the big heavy old typewriters I used to use and then the electronic typewriters whose ribbons in cassettes could not be wound back and forth to be reused time and time again, were very expensive and with which one still made mistakes – now with the computer those mistakes are eradicated immediately and one can type away at the rate of knots knowing it doesn’t matter, there’s no longer any need for erasers or Typex.
My first computer on which one used floppy discs is now an antique, a museum piece, and it wouldn’t surprise me in the least to realise this one I am currently working on falls into the same category. That’s how quickly it all happens.

I guess you can find just about everything on the Internet these days. I have been reading a most fascinating book – “The Baron of Piccadilly – The Travels and Entertainment of Albert Smith 1816-1860” a quite remarkable man, possibly out-barnumed Barnum but maybe a little more sophisticated. His novel “The Adventures of Mister Ledbury” (still unread) has been in our bookshelves for more years than I can remember. I wonder if I will ever get around to reading it. But in this biography I have just come across a fascinating piece of information. I am near the end of the book. Mister Smith an inveterate traveller is in Hong Kong, this in itself is fascinating. The Brits have no reason to be proud of what went on there in 1850, but what caught my eye even more was this,
‘The American pirate Eli Boggs, who had been tried in Hong Kong in July1857 for piracy and murder, The Times correspondent had reported, “His name would do for a villain of the Blackbeard class but in form and feature he was like the hero of a sentimental novel; as he stood in the dock, bravely battling for his life, it seemed impossible that the handsome boy could be the pirate whose name had been for three years connected with the boldest and bloodiest acts of piracy. It was a face of feminine beauty. Not a down upon the upper lip; large lustrous eyes, a mouth the smile of which might woo a coy maiden; affluent black hair, not carelessly parted; hands so small and so delicately white that they would create a sensation in Belgravia: such was the Hong Kong pirate, Eli Boggs.”
I can’t help but wonder why small white hands would create a sensation in Belgravia as opposed to anywhere else, but to move on…
“Boggs spoke well in his own defence but it was proved that he had boarded a junk and killed fifteen men, thrown the rest of the crew overboard and fired at one who grabbed a rope and held on astern.” Now here is the amazing bit, the jury were so impressed by his youth and courage (and no doubt his beauty) that they acquitted him of murder and found him guilty of piracy. He was sentenced to be transported for life but evidently was dispatched back to the states at the request of the American consul. He died within a short time.
Having never heard of this outrageous man, evidently at one time it is said he commanded over fifty junks and once cut up a Chinaman into tiny pieces and sent him ashore in buckets as a warning to others not to interfere with him, I learn on the Internet because I immediately looked him up for further information and I couldn’t help wondering if in fact Mister Boggs wasn’t a girl. It is possible. At this time there was a young lady by the name of Lulu who was a sensation in London as a trapeze artist, setting many a masculine heart aflame and inspiring a flurry of letters to The times demanding to know why this beautiful young gel should be forced to endanger life and limb in this fashion.
This beautiful young gel was in actual fact a boy, Nino Farini, who in later life emigrated to Canada and became a photographer. Could our pirate also have been a girl? A pretty (no pun intended) bloodthirsty one to say the least. Intriguing thought though.

Proof reading is truly an art. You can read a manuscript a hundred times and still miss something. Hardly a book I’ve read in the last year but I’ve not found some mistake or mistakes. Dipping into “Dead On Target” I come across on page 207 ‘No, you don’t want to her that’ instead of ‘hear that.’ Easily missed and of course the spell check wouldn’t pick up on it. Would there be any point in sending it back to the printers to rectify this one mistake? My answer to that would be no but Douglas, reading it more thoroughly, has come across a huge mistake in layout where a page for some reason has been centred instead of to the left and looks terrible. Now it definitely will have to go back. As far as the cover is concerned, well! They arrived back from Xania day before yesterday with the most enormous teddy bear and, as we have been watching “Brideshead Revisited” after many a long year, they have naturally called him after Sebastian’s bear and I won’t try and write the name because although I can say it I simply wouldn’t know how to spell it. (Aloysios?)
Here I think I will explain that the cover consists of a forest in which a bear is pinned by an arrow to the trunk of a tree. The objection to the original is that, although the concept was okay, the bear wasn’t the right bear, hence the new acquisition. While in England, Douglas went into a toy shop looking for a bear that could be pinned by an arrow to a tree and the good lady serving was evidently so horrified at the idea she freaked out and he was virtually thrown out of the shop.
We were going to have a pizza night before last but when we arrived in Litsarda we found the pizzeria closed so moved on to Kalyves to the old family restaurant Chris and I used when we first came to Crete to move into our house here. The restaurant is run by Stelios and his family and I was looking forward to the greeting Douglas was going to get from Stelios when he saw him there. Evidently in the morning when they dropped in on the vet, Michaeli to get anti-flea stuff for Merrill, when Michael saw Douglas he dropped everything, there were others waiting, but he rushed across the surgery for hugs and kisses. Chris says he was holding back the tears. ‘I don’t want to hear what you’ve been through,’ he said, ‘you’re here and that’s all that matters.’ I think Stelios would have reacted the same way as it seems everyone has on seeing him back.
I don’t think there is any chance of us ever moving from Crete to live elsewhere. We have been so warmly accepted, become so much a part of the community and have made so many friends. If only, if only, I could be fluent in the language but it is so late.
We have four lemon trees giving us an abundance of fruit – so much that we keep giving it away but yesterday we found a plastic bag on the doorstep with about four dozen lemons in it, obviously from Agalayia across the way. What on earth are we going to do with them? Also Eleftheria sent over some beetroot (yum yum) and enough spinach to feed an army (yuk yuk) but I am supposed to eat my dark green vegetables so might as well get on with it.

Sunday lunch turned out to be everything expected of it. Again there were about thirty people there eating and drinking under a great fir tree but with the warm sun on our backs. The sky was cloudless. The lamb was done on a spit but Jannis and Vana have an enormous outside wood oven for baking pies and I remarked to Douglas it is big enough to be cremated in and he agreed.
I never cease to be amazed at the amount of building that has gone on these last few years and, despite the recession, is still going on. Vamos, which is the capital of this region, was once a thriving community evidently but, when work became scarce many young people drifted away and houses were left to fall into rack and ruin. Since we came there has been a reversal in the town’s fortunes with a number of new houses being built all around the outskirts and, this last year in our little neck of the woods more in the village itself, at least seven or eight ruins, well no more than stone walls really, have been rebuilt completely changing the area. There are of course more tourists now to help fill the town’s coffers and some of these rebuilds are for accommodating them. Who knows though what this year’s season which is just beginning will be like? I believe a lot of businesses have been suffering. It’s a sort of chain reaction eventually affecting everybody.
As far as real estate is concerned though people are not buying. Thirty new houses built in Litsarda are still for the most part standing empty after a couple of years on the market, there are quite a few resales no one seems to want and now there is a shortage of rental property. It seems prospective immigrants want to rent rather than buy. Probably a very good idea; they can spend a few months taking stock and then decide whether or not to buy or go back to wherever they came from. I’m certainly glad we bought when we did. There is no way we would be able to afford this house now the way property prices have risen, especially a large house with a large garden right in the village and there’s no way we could afford to return to the UK even if we felt so inclined.
“Dead On Target” has been delivered from the printers and I for one was rather excited about it. I thought the cover exceptionally good and atmospheric but oh no, not Mr Perfectionist Foote and Mr Perfectionist Beeching. It’s not right. What’s not right about it? It’s just not right. They have spent hours on respective computers and are still not satisfied. That’s perfectionist for you.
Can’t end this Blog by not mentioning that to-day the 6th April, Chris and I will have known each other for fifty years. That is some going I reckon.

There used to be a joke in England some years back about “The African Queen” always being shown on television at Christmas. It being Easter week in Greece, the television channels are as usual all dusting off and putting out their old religious films and series. This happens twice a year so we will get them all again at Christmas. In the meantime here, apart from Orthodox services, is this Easter’s list. I notice some of the old favourites like Quo Vadis and The Greatest Story Ever Told etc., are missing but we do have - The Mysteries of the Bible (series), The earth of Jesus (Greek documentary), Barabbas, The Passion (series), Esther and the King, Liturgy of the Epitaph, (two channels), Jesus of Nazareth (series), Jesus of Nazareth on another channel, King David, The Ten Commandments, (also on two channels), Ben Hur, Judas, Salome, In The Beginning, Holy Paths (Greek), The Bible/Joseph (US German Italian drama), Riddles of the Bible (As opposed to mysteries I suppose). This one’s from National Geographic), Biography of Judas, Inside Jerusalem’s Holiest Places (also National Geographic), The lost tomb of Jesus. More series than films this time around.
Once past midnight Saturday and Jesus has been resurrected, the religious bit can stop and we can all go back to more mundane stuff like Superman, Helen of Troy, Cleopatra etc.
Friday night Chris and Douglas went to a little village called Douliana for the epitafios, that is Jesus on his cross being taken down, placed on a bier and walked around the village in procession. They normally attend it in Vamos but we had visitors from Athens who wanted to do Douliana so that is where they went. The procession around Vamos is quite a long one so by the end of it many, like little old ladies, have fallen out, having done their bit. Those like me who don’t feel up to it don’t bother. The same applies to the anastesi (resurrection) last night when the holy flame is passed from candle to candle, a great deal of kissing goes on, the church bells ring out in triumph, the bonfire is lit to burn Judas and everyone greets each other with ‘Jesus is risen’ to which the answer is ‘He has truly risen.’ There is a positive barrage of fireworks and rockets lighting up the sky (I watched that from the terrace) and any number of guns being fired into the air. I haven’t been to this one either for a couple of years now but Chris and Douglas go; not for the religious bit but to bond with the community. Our Greek friends and neighbours do appreciate it and they know the old papoose as he approaches his seventy ninth birthday ain’t up to it no more.
Today, Sunday, we will be going across the road to our friends and neighbours, Janis and Vana for Easter lunch barbecue style. Goodness knows how many lambs will have been slaughtered. Last year there were thirty people or more there at three long tables under the trees and enough food and wine to feed an army. This we’re really am looking forward to.

After two more visits to the police station,last Friday under the watchful eye of Jesus and a couple of saints we finally got our residents’ permits. Strictly speaking under EU regulations they are not necessary but not to have them means carting bulky passports around wherever you go, just in case the police stop you for some reason or other. That hasn’t actually happened – yet. All Greeks carry identification cards known as taftotita and appear to be quite happy about it so our cards take the taftotita’s place and we like having them. Why are the Brits so up in arms about having an identity card? Admittedly the amount the government are thinking of charging for them is a bit steep but otherwise, what’s the problem?
The Greeks love their rubber stamps and on two carousels in the station I counted sixteen of them. Others were produced from drawers or satchels when necessary. The office is quite small, three desks taking up most of the floor space, and the walls are lined with bulky files. The other thing it would appear that Greeks enjoy is filling in a thousand forms. The British police complain about their paperwork. Come to Greece, mates and you will know what paperwork is. Anyway, these permits are for life so we won’t, as before with five year ones, have to go through it all again.
I had gone through in my mind beforehand a whole dramatic scenario should there still have been a problem. It sort of ended with “English writer jailed for sit down protest in Vamos police station.” Well, I was robbed of that opportunity. Our young policeman simply could not have been more charming so I won’t follow in the footsteps of Wilde, Genet, Orton or any other writer who has been in prison.
Saturday saw a further memorial service to Maria. These services really do cost a great deal of money, going first of all to the church and then the caterers. In this instance there were two going on at the same time. The Orthodox Church, like so many religious institutions, is fabulously wealthy and the hierarchy are kicking up one hell of a fuss at the moment because the new socialist government in one of its attempts to get Greece out of the financial mess is threatening it with a 20% tax on gross income. At the same time for the same reason it would seem virtually everyone else is holding a strike. The Greeks have always been pretty adept at avoiding tax and a clamp down is not, as far as they’re concerned, in their best interest. I am afraid Kennedy’s, ask not what your country can do for you but what you can do for your country, goes right against the grain.
When Kristos deserted us more than a year ago to take over a restaurant in Kalyves he left behind a business in the dark which was sad but I am delighted to say someone else has taken it over, the lights are on again and we are back to three restaurants in Vamos, restaurants as opposed to eateries. We went for dinner Sunday evening about seven thirty and found that there about twenty people dining, all Brits! Come nine o’clock the first Greeks appeared. They really do love eating late, even into the early hours. Of all the Brits only one face did we recognize.