“Let`s pick olives”
So, this innocent little sentence set the standard for this year`s holiday period
However, apart from harvesting over a metric ton of olives –
We also savored, or maybe I should say laboured over: A bad back. A dicky knee. A badly bruised finger. Lost false teeth. A lost olive flayer. Purchase of new olive flayer.
Being consistently whacked on all extremities by said olive flayer. A blistered toe. Oodles of bickering on the savvy of olive net laying. Bum sledging down the olive grove slopes. Picking thistles from said bums. Wood chopping. Fence raising. Chipping a mountain of olive branches.
More bickering, about just about anything.
Welcoming our new granddaughter.
Eating waaaaay too much.
Eating waaaaay too much – again.
Sanding down the shutters and windows at home. Making enough Christmas biscuits to feed an army. Making a Greek Christmas cake. Making profiteroles. Scaring away the sparrow hawk persistently dive bombing my bantam hens. Walking daily, three rather boisterous dogs. A day off. Giving a Greek language lesson. Giving a “how to harvest olives” lesson. Spending a long afternoon taking nephew to Heraklion Emergency department to plaster cast his broken foot.
Plucking and gutting 17 pigeons (don`t ask!). Trying to hunt down 15 hen and 8 bantam nests, cause I ain`t seeing any eggs. Actually having to BUY eggs!!!??? Rescuing a rogue hedgehog from the tormentors (the dogs). Retrieving Furby from inside next door neighbours fence. Chasing sheep from the orchard.Chasing our plastic garden chairs as the gale force wind took them down the terraces. Chasing and retrieving our wayward turkey (not destined for the Christmas table), and no, it wasn`t in a pear tree.
Should I go on…………
Removing daily, at least a washing up bowl full (ok, slight exaggeration here), of rogue olives from the kitchen and utility floor, sink plug hole, socks, pockets etc., and, last but by no means least – savoring the delights of insomnia (grrrrrrr).