Birds of a feather

On New Year's Eve we had something of a disaster here in the olive grove when a dog killed almost all our landlord's chickens.

Initially we thought the dog had killed the entire flock, but the next day - not such a happy new year - we discovered that two of the cockerels had survived.

Quite how they managed this we don't know. They were very shell-shocked and extraordinarily quiet, so it seems that they realised they had come close to meeting their maker.

Anyway, that was just over a fortnight ago and now the unlikely pair spend a lot of time together. The two survivors were the lead cockerel, undoubtedly the big boss, and his deputy. So far as we know that deputy is the grandson of Eileen.

Readers of this blog with a long memory may well recall that Eileen was a cockerel from the first cohort of chickens here who went on the run from the chicken house and became my wife's firm favourite. Sadly, he was attacked by a dog and I had to put him out of his misery. Eileen, so called because at first we thought he was a hen, did at least get the chance to procreate and we are fairly confident that one of the two survivor cockerels is one of his grandsons, hereafter known as Eileen the Third.

Two cockerels on their own are not a lot of use. Our landlord hopes to replace the flock so maybe one day soon the cockerels can get back to doing what they do best, which is jumping on unsuspecting hens for a bit of "Wham! Bam! Thank you, Ma'am".

Until then, they are intent on staying pretty close to our house, peering in through the windows. We suspect they would like nothing more than to be allowed in, but their main tactic to gain our attention is episodes of manic crowing and carpet bombing our kitchen doorstep with their droppings. Believe me they are not making any friends this way, but for the time being we admire their powers of survival.

Eileen III at the front with Big Boss at the rear.

The picture shows the two cockerels on the terrace outside our kitchen. The pole running in front of Eileen III is the handle of the broom which is in constant use to sweep away the massive amounts of ordure the birds present us with.

Not difficult to choose a piece of music to go with this post, although neither of our roosters are particularly red or little.

When the wind blows...

Tower of the Winds, Athens, on a not very windy day

The Sporades - the island group of which Skopelos is a part - is known as the "gates of the wind" and for much of this month it has lived up to its name.

Right now, as I write this, it's dead calm and the sun is shining, but we've had days of strong winds, often Beaufort force six, seven and occasionally eight. The olive trees in the bottom of the valley have been swaying and swinging and reminded me of weed swirling around in a river.

The worst thing about these winds is waking up in the night and hearing the wind roaring and unidentified objects blowing around outside. From that it is only a small step to worrying about the roof, which so far has stayed exactly where it should.

The prevailing wind has been from the north which has reduced temperatures quite drastically (for here) although on the plus side strong winds do clear out all the muck from the atmosphere and have made it possible to see Mount Athos - the Holy Mountain - quite easily. In a straight line this is about 80 miles away on the Halkidiki peninsula.

Such constant strong winds inevitably cause damage to properties and boats, so it was good to see that the forecast for the next few days is for the winds to abate, but I'm sure they'll be back.

The music for today's post reminds me of my father, who liked this particular piece. I only recall him mentioning it once, but it stuck in my memory. Its title seems appropriate.

• Photo of the Tower of the Winds, Athens, taken by Georg Zumstrull) [CC BY-SA 2.0 de (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/2.0/de/deed.en)], via Wikimedia Commons

I resolve to do whatever I want

How are you coming on with those New Year Resolutions? As good as that? Well, a week's not bad. To be fair, I didn't bother making any resolutions so that now, nearly two weeks in to January, I'm not sitting around feeling bad at my lack of purpose.

But, hey, if you did set yourself a range of targets for self-improvement then go for it. It is entirely arbitrary that just as the Earth reaches a certain stage in its orbit around the sun we decide to instil a bit of moral fibre in ourselves, but why not? Broadly speaking it's better to try and fail than never try at all.

So if you're trying to give up the ciggies, rein in the drinking and take up regular exercise more power to your elbow. I suppose it's only fair for me to point out that by the end of the month you're likely to feel a complete sense of failure and be full of self-loathing at your inability to exercise even the slightest bit of self-control, but really I don't want to discourage you.

It's easy for me, I'm an ex-smoker so I don't need to give that up and forswearing alcohol in January seems completely nonsensical to me. January is precisely the month when you need a little alcoholic fortification.It's dark, it's cold and spring seems a long way off. I take my break from the electric soup during Lent. No booze from Ash Wednesday to, er, it depends how I feel, but it is usually Easter Day itself.

Anyway, enough of my moral high ground. If I did have any New Year resolutions to make what would they be?

Well, as ever, improve my Greek. This actually has nothing to do with New Year and everything to do with being a lazy arse who should by now be speaking, reading and writing better Greek than he does. To some extent this does take us back to the idea of failure, and to be truthful beating yourself up about your own shortcomings isn't very productive.

Despite all the above, this year I have got two resolutions that I think are worth doing, mainly because they might be judged to be completely pointless. Having said that, I think I can give them a go. They are to read more poetry - let's say one poem a day, and to learn to juggle. I've had a go at the juggling before and gave up just as I was achieving proficiency with two balls - no jokes please.

Question: Can you juggle? If so did it make you want to run away to join a circus?

I like to end with a bit of music and my selection for this posting ties in with my belief that one resolution we could all do with is to watch less television.

When we want your opinion we'll give it to you

"Too bad that all the people who know how to run the country are busy driving taxicabs and cutting hair." That is one of my favourite one-liners from American comic George Burns to which these days would have to be added "or commenting on websites and writing blogs". To the latter indictment I plead guilty as charged.

However, if you are in Greece you might also wish to add "or being German" because as Greece heads towards parliamentary elections on January 25 there has been no shortage of advice coming from Germany on the potential impact of how Greeks might choose to vote.

What seems to give everyone a fit of the vapours is the possibility that the left-wing Syriza party would gain control. Party leader Alexis Tsipras, who I have seen described by the BBC as a "firebrand"...oo-er, has pledged to "condemn the failed memoranda of austerity", which some feel will lead to Greece defaulting on its debts and then leaving the Euro - the dreaded "Grexit".

No fan of austerity: Syriza leader Alexis Tsipras.
Picture used under Creative Commons licence.

German politicians and media organisations have all been quick to suggest to Greece that it's time to shut up, pay up and keep on paying up and that the best way to go about this would be to elect politicians of much the same political hue as we already have.

One very understandable reason there is so much interest in Germany in what goes on in Greece is that German bank exposure to Greek debt comes in at a whopping 23.5 billion Euros. That would give anyone cause to think, but does it give them the right to tell/suggest/politely hint to Greeks how they should run their country? I suppose in the global economy in which money swoops and swishes around the world, the powerful and rich feel that, yes, they can tell the poor and ailing how they should mend their ways.

Until recently the prospect of Grexit, such an ugly word, has been viewed with dismay, but now many leading German politicians, not least Chancellor Angela Merkel, have said that Greece leaving the Euro would be manageable and the prospect of "contagion" spreading to other troubled economies, namely Portugal and Ireland, was reduced because those countries are considered to be "rehabilitated". So it's off the naughty step for the Portuguese and the Irish and a case of "go your own way" for Greece...maybe.

There has been talk of the use of fear in this current Greek election campaign, much of it along the lines of "You think things have been bad, well, vote in Syriza and you'll be squealing to have the old guard back in power". Opinion polls place Syriza in a comfortable lead and it's plain to see that waving a big stick around in the face of Greek voters is having little effect. Unemployment is around 25 per cent and many Greeks have taken pay cuts while at the same time being faced with tax increases. I suspect that quite a lot of Greek people doubt that anything could be worse than what they are going through now.

Blogger or not, I wouldn't pretend to know what Greece ought to do for the best. Like the joke about the lost motorist who stops in the countryside to ask a yokel for directions and is told "You don't want to start from here" Greece could do with being somewhere completely different before embarking on its journey to economic and political stability. Distrust of politicians of all kinds is rife in this country which seems to have really sapped hope among voters. And it would be an optimistic person who claimed that all Greek taxpayers were ready to do their bit and pay every last cent that they owe.

Be that as it may, I am a great believer in allowing people to cock things up for themselves. So the country which gave us the words politics and democracy, not to mention drama and chaos, should be allowed to make its own choices. For the time being, Mrs Merkel and her colleagues will have to resume their seats and wait to see how this latest moment in Greek history pans out.

* What do you think? See if the Greeks can muddle through or make them toe the line? There could be a drink in it for you if you come up with a startlingly brilliant idea, but you'll have to come  here to collect it, he added hastily.

All that quasi-serious stuff above could do with a bit of light relief so how about this from Fleetwood Mac, which I was inspired to choose from a line in the posting.

A fruit tree for my friend

Bonnie and me on Velanio beach.

At last I have got round to doing what I said I'd do back in September when  Bonnie died, which is to plant a fruit tree by the spot where we buried her.

After talking it over with our landlord we decided to buy what in Greece is known as a λωτόσ, which people would more likely know as a persimmon.

I dug the hole a few feet over from where Bonnie rests and I'm glad to say the digging was much easier than back in September. After all the rain we've had in recent weeks, the ground is a lot softer.

So now we wait and watch and hope that in years to come the tree bears fruit, although what I really wish is that it would grow me another Bonnie. I miss that dog.

I wanted to end this post with some music and at first thought of the 1st Movement from Elgar's Cello Concerto, but beautiful as that is, it is perhaps a bit too sombre. Then I moved on to Lil Wayne's I Miss My Dawgs, but he's definitely not singing about a much-loved pet. So I've chosen instead the late Rufus Thomas singing Walking The Dog, which, while it might not actually be about exercising your dog, is certainly the more upbeat number I was looking for.

At least I've not lost my marbles

"Billes" by Xavier66 - Own work. Licensed under CC BY-SA 3.0 via Wikimedia Commons - http://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Billes.jpg#mediaviewer/File:Billes.jpg 

Among the more unusual things we brought with us to Greece is a small drawstring bag containing about 70 glass marbles, the type children played with many years ago. The picture above shows the sort I mean.

The bulk of them date from my late father's childhood and a few have  been added from my own childhood.

I think the reason we brought them with us was with the idea of making something with them. However, that never came to fruition and now, if only for sentimental reasons, they will remain in their bag.

And that, for the foreseeable future is the nearest Greece is likely to get to having anything with the word marbles in it coming from Britain.

Yes, this is a rather roundabout way of taking on the thorny issue of the Elgin Marbles or the Parthenon Marbles, if you prefer.

While in Britain people may have to stifle a groan, if they show any reaction at all, if the subject of the Elgin Marbles comes up, in Greece feelings run much higher. So it was little surprise to me to read of Greek outrage at the recent news that the British Museum, which holds the Elgin Marbles, has lent some of them to the Hermitage Museum in St Petersburg for that museum's 250th anniversary celebrations.

The view in Greece seemed to be that if some of the marbles could be transported to Russia then surely there was no good reason they could not all come back to Greece and stay here.

The whys and wherefores of the whole issue are complex and generally people seem to take a stance and then work out the argument which supports that view.

"Elgin marbles frieze". Licensed under CC BY-SA 3.0 via Wikimedia Commons - http://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Elgin_marbles_frieze.jpg#mediaviewer/File:Elgin_marbles_frieze.jpg

There is much talk of Hellenic culture, the legality, or otherwise, of what Lord Elgin did, whether the marbles would have survived if they had been left on the Acropolis, and the global appreciation of one of the glories of Western civilization. As I said, people tend to pick the argument that suits them.

The British Musuem seems fairly adamant that what it has, it holds. Meanwhile, the new Acropolis Museum in Athens has a display which clearly shows the parts of the Parthenon Frieze which could be filled in if the British Museum - and other museums - bowed to Greek demands.

A straightforward explanation of the Parthenon, and the marbles debate, is contained in Professor Mary Beard's excellent book Parthenon. It's clear and entertaining, but perhaps significantly, the good professor doesn't come down on either side of the argument. Too smart, I am sure, although she does present clear reasons for and against in the debate.

As a professional historian, Mary Beard may well feel the need to be slightly circumspect on such issues, but that's not a burden I labour under. So, in a nutshell, yes, I think the marbles from the British Museum and other museums around the world should come home to Greece. They belong in Athens and while they may never again grace the building from which they came, they should be close to it to be appreciated as one entity.

Will it ever happen? Obviously not on my say so alone, but surely the time has come for the marbles to be returned. What was legally acceptable in the 19th century would not be countenanced now.

I suspect that one reason the British Museum and other museums resist the idea of returning items such as the marbles is the fear it could open the floodgates for demands from many countries for the restoration of artefacts removed from them for display in museums. Maybe it would, who knows, but if it did surely that would serve to underline that when it comes to cultural heritage our debts are widespread.

* Many, but maybe not all, of you will know that to lose one's marbles means to lose one's wits. Curiously enough in my Chambers Dictionary the definition for this follows on from an explanation of the Elgin Marbles. Whatever some of you may think, I definitely have not lost MY marbles.

It's been a quiet week

It hardly seems possible that it's only a week since I had to take the heartbreaking decision to let the vet end my dog's suffering. That's why it's been a quiet week - and obviously a sad week, too.

When I describe Bonnie as "my dog", it's not entirely accurate. She was very much a family dog and would be friendly with anyone who would offer her a kind word, a stroke of her lovely soft ears or, even better, slip her an illicit morsel of food.

Bonnie was a black Labrador and like pretty well all of her kind always seemed to have food at the forefront of her mind. It was this which first led me to realise something was wrong with her when she began to refuse meals.

Anyway, I don't want to dwell on the last days of a much loved pet other than to say that things were made easier by the presence of one of my daughters who had come to Skopelos for a short holiday. Having the first day of your holiday taken up by the death of a pet is not a good start to any break, but I was glad I had a hand to hold and a shoulder to cry on.

So now Bonnie is at rest in the olive grove. My landlord, who was very fond of Bonnie, helped me dig a grave and we buried her with one of her favourite toys, a rather grubby Father Christmas doll, which she would often present to visitors to the house. In a few weeks I will buy a fruit tree which we will plant over her. It seems fitting that a dog with such wide and varied tastes in food should have a fruit tree nearby.

I am trying desperately hard not to be sentimental in this post, but it's difficult. I miss her enthusiastic greeting every time I returned home, I miss the way she would place her head on my knee and give me a soulful stare (yes, I know it usually meant she wanted food) and above all I just miss her presence. But life goes on and I am grateful for the time we had with Bonnie, a good and faithful friend.

Just at the moment I can't lay my hands on a picture of Bonnie. I'll try to find one soon. In the meantime, here's Led Zeppelin singing a song which while not about a black Labrador apparently was named after one. I have to admit that whenever I played Led Zep Bonnie seemed to wander off, I don't think she was a fan. Even so, this is dedicated to her.