tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27754029547351480522024-03-13T20:01:31.815-07:00slenderbeak slenderbeakhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06740357753942363445noreply@blogger.comBlogger30125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2775402954735148052.post-20912319501736829272022-08-12T03:47:00.000-07:002022-08-12T03:47:00.054-07:00Πορος Κεφαλονια<p><br /></p><p class="p1" style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px 0px 8px;">Την παράξενη γαλήνη που επικρατεί διακόπτουν μόνο τα κύματα που σκάνε γαργαλώντας τη βοτσαλωτή παραλία του Πόρου. Ψηλά από τον βράχο βουτάει ένας άντρας και προσγειώνεται κοντά μου σαν μεγάλο ψάρι που κάνει ανάποδο σάλτο.</p><p class="p1" style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px 0px 8px;">Στις 2 μ.μ. το φέρι μποτ<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>της γραμμής φτάνει από την Κυλλήνη, με λάμψη μπλε και κίτρινου.</p><p class="p1" style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px 0px 8px;">Δύο άντρες φτάνανε κολυμπώντας,<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>δύο νέοι που βουτάνε από τον βράχο, δύο ακόμα<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></p><p class="p1" style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px 0px 8px;">άντρες που κολυμπούν με κυκλωτικές κινήσεις σαν φιλικοί καρχαρίες.</p><p class="p1" style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px 0px 8px;">Δύο ντόπιοι έφηβοι κάθονται στην ακροθαλασσιά και πετούν μικρές, κοφτές πετρούλες στον βράχο. Βρεγμένα, στιλπνά, μαύρα μαλλιά, λεπτός, με σπινθηροβόλο βλέμμα, ο άλλος παχουλός, πιο ανοιχτόχρωμος, υπακούει, πάντα υπακούει, ποτέ δεν ηγείται, σιγομουρμουρίζουν «μαλάκες» για οτιδήποτε και οποιονδήποτε τους περνά από το μυαλό.</p><p class="p1" style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px 0px 8px;">Συζητήσεις ανόητες ή ασήμαντες αλλά πάντως συζητήσεις, καλύτερα από το να κοιτούν μόνοι τους μια οθόνη κάνοντας ένα σωρό χειρονομίες.</p><p class="p1" style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px 0px 8px;">Δύο κυρίες με πλατιά καπέλα απορροφημένες στη συζήτησή τους κι αυτές.</p><p class="p1" style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px 0px 8px;">Τα σκάφη είναι αραγμένα στα βαθιά. Θόρυβοι ταξιδεύουν μέσα στο νερό.</p><p class="p1" style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px 0px 8px;">Ο Πόρος μπορεί να μην είναι η πρώτη επιλογή του επισκέπτη στην Κεφαλονιά αλλά έχει μείνει αναλλοίωτος. Αν αναζητάς την αυθεντικότητα, δεν σε πειράζουν τα μαγαζιά, τα καφέ, τα ξενοδοχεία με τις καρφωμένες σανίδες στις πόρτες και τα παράθυρα, και μπορείς να δεις ότι έχει κάτι ιδιαίτερο η γεωγραφική του θέση, ο φαρδύς παραλιακός του δρόμος, ένα κινηματογραφικό άνοιγμα γαλάζιου που ανακατεύεται με τα άσπρα ιστία. Μια αίσθηση ότι βρίσκεται ξέχωρα από το υπόλοιπο νησί αλλά συνάμα κοντά στην ενδοχώρα, στην απέναντι στεριά. Έχει υπομείνει δύο χρόνια καραντίνας και παρόλ’ αυτά ο δρόμος που οδηγεί έξω από τον οικισμό σφύζει από ζωή στο φαρμακείο, το βιβλιοπωλείο, το σούπερ μάρκετ και την κάβα. Ένα λιμάνι που πέρασε δύσκολες εποχές, μα ελπίζει στην ανάκαμψη.</p><p class="p1" style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px 0px 8px;"><br /></p><p class="p1" style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px 0px 8px;">Μεταφραση απο τα Αγγλικα. Στελιος Τσουκαλας</p> slenderbeakhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06740357753942363445noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2775402954735148052.post-64754182893465729802022-06-12T09:59:00.000-07:002022-06-12T09:59:27.793-07:00In Poros Kefalonia<p> There's an eerie stillness broken only by little lapping waves tickling the pebbly beach of Poros. A man dives from the high rock and splashes close to me like a large fish doing a back flip.</p><p>At 2pm the Levante ferry arrives from Kilini, all blue and yellow.</p><p>Two men at swim, two younger men diving from the rock, two more men swimming round each other like friendly sharks.</p><p>Two teenage Greek boys sit at the shore's edge throwing tiny, gritty stones at the rock face. Wet, shiny black hair, slim, cunning face, the other, paunchy, paler, following, always following, never the leader, bad mouthing 'μαλακες' at many thoughts and people who enter their heads. Conversations of little intelligence or meaning but conversations nevertheless, better than staring in solitary at screens, exaggerating their thumbs.</p><p>Two Greek ladies with wide brimmed hats also deep in conversation.</p><p>The yachts are anchoring offshore. Sounds carry across water.</p><p>Poros may not be top of the list of places to visit in Kefalonia but it has not been spoilt. If you seek unspoilt you accept the boarded up shops, cafes, hotels and still see there is something about its geographical position, its wide open promenade, a cinematic stretch of blues blurring into white sails. A sense of being apart from the rest of the island but at the same time linked to the mainland across the channel. It has endured two years of lockdown but the one way street out of the town is busy with a chemist, bookshop, supermarket and wine merchant. A working port that has fallen on hard times, hoping for recovery.</p><p><br /></p> slenderbeakhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06740357753942363445noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2775402954735148052.post-80292466535280696372021-06-11T01:31:00.000-07:002021-06-11T01:31:19.036-07:00The Sober World<p><br /></p><p>When I was training to be a Person Centred Counsellor in London many years ago I learnt what the word empathy meant in practice - aiming to keep one foot in the world of the client while remaining a safe listener. </p><p>A little meandering walkabout with the Greek word Εξτασια - Ecstasy 'being out of oneself'.</p><p>One day a friend of Baccus is wandering through the Robola vineyards of Agios Gerasimos on the island of Kefalonia. A hip flask of Robola wine is attached to the friend's leather belt.</p><p>The Apollonian, who is watching from the verandah of his villa, assumes the Baccanalian is worse for wear.</p><p>"Intoxicated?"</p><p>"Yes." Admits the Baccanalian. "But not toxic."</p><p>The Apollonian has to think about this answer so the Baccanalian helps him out. "But I have one foot in the sober world."</p><p>"Are you in ecstasy?"</p><p>"Not yet." Replies the Baccanalian. "If I was in ecstasy I would not be talking with you."</p> slenderbeakhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06740357753942363445noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2775402954735148052.post-28838323950515840042021-04-05T03:14:00.003-07:002021-04-05T03:21:12.950-07:00Jacqueline paizis - My Interview with Awesome Gang newsletter<a href="https://awesomegang.com/jacqueline-paizis/">Jacqueline paizis</a>: Tell us about yourself and how many books you have written. I was born in Hythe, Kent UK into a working class family. My enduring love of the sea is born from slenderbeakhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06740357753942363445noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2775402954735148052.post-64870943167520212942021-03-11T05:22:00.002-08:002021-03-11T07:42:37.886-08:00A Sea Change<div class="separator" dir="rtl" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b>A little taster of <span style="color: #2b00fe;">A Sea Change</span> to tempt you</b><i> </i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgi64PCOEFV8EtO5WG4kvamLpk6in1RS6nBiAQ5XEahQXUpcnbbQRdVCkf97IsXMscwrbWrgi9NGetbJ9-x2xP0vaSraqYYWRgbPRDtN7QvOE2KSRCueHQBdY5dogWEfUcB3MBQksVIu78/s2048/AA65A841-2ADD-4D94-8065-107E5DAA1ED4.heic" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><i><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgi64PCOEFV8EtO5WG4kvamLpk6in1RS6nBiAQ5XEahQXUpcnbbQRdVCkf97IsXMscwrbWrgi9NGetbJ9-x2xP0vaSraqYYWRgbPRDtN7QvOE2KSRCueHQBdY5dogWEfUcB3MBQksVIu78/s320/AA65A841-2ADD-4D94-8065-107E5DAA1ED4.heic" /></i></a></div><p><i> <b>"</b>Alex sensed my unease and put his arm round my shoulder, pulling me tight towards him. "It's okay Lorna. It always goes like this on Greek demonstrations, just this one is very big. If often turns into a confrontation between anarchists and MAT. The speeches will be held up if a bomb really has gone off but I'm not bothered about the speeches. The only one worth listening to will be Alexis Tsipras of SYRIZA. Anyone further Left doesn't get a look in."</i></p><p><i>I had seen Tsipras on television and understood a fair amount of what he said. He seemed to me to be a pretty charismatic figure and the coalition was doing well in the opinion polls. The late afternoon temperature was dropping but I could feel my own rising as my cheek rested on Alex's coat. Once I let my fear and anxiety go I became aware of the streaks of pink and violet sky that sprawled like a canopy about Panepistemiou and its mass of human energy. I knew I would never forget the experience. This was no outpouring of disaffected, spoilt, middle class youth. Yes, </i></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-tMwvqu4brUKpxYQR6SC710spnH_yXXGYgpOIkwH2MRhiPnkZXrn-hpSZu62gp0i6afDVxhGE5zSjvkveZZAWJSCc72voRtRnEo3RkrEDV_iO2rVFLV8AoFPNOrekL59Iff-jnjKd8vo/s2048/3C39702D-22A4-47DD-8547-6D897B6FF450.heic" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><i><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-tMwvqu4brUKpxYQR6SC710spnH_yXXGYgpOIkwH2MRhiPnkZXrn-hpSZu62gp0i6afDVxhGE5zSjvkveZZAWJSCc72voRtRnEo3RkrEDV_iO2rVFLV8AoFPNOrekL59Iff-jnjKd8vo/s320/3C39702D-22A4-47DD-8547-6D897B6FF450.heic" /></i></a></div><i><br />they were here as well. But the bulk of the demonstrators were an eclectic mix of young, middle and elderly. Pensioners were highly visible and vocal. Firefighters, wielding flares, marched in their uniforms. Militant teachers and their students, even nursery workers were represented. I saw two Greek Orthodox priests marching side by side in their robes, their heads protected by skufia. I guess the kalimvaki, the tall priest's hats, would have been too tempting as targets for missile throwers. I took all this in and I thought of the three thousand five hundred years of history that all these amazing faces reflected." (p251)</i><p></p> slenderbeakhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06740357753942363445noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2775402954735148052.post-29270595368977736462021-03-11T04:00:00.001-08:002021-03-11T04:05:14.082-08:00The Cleaner of Kastoria<p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhck5r8dLJo9BHYbBLMkkNGh7XVAVzSsejtuzw9_NEG5xBEqQqx-dQSGaojCOm0YG5i5JBEkRSwBDBvef_pUQKeIsnpOcQW7HDfxEk-RXyLOG32X-b9ft_v7-VHLBA2RUZD6d81JSA6BY8/s320/E2BB423D-CE58-4845-B8C1-0C027316687E.heic" /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhck5r8dLJo9BHYbBLMkkNGh7XVAVzSsejtuzw9_NEG5xBEqQqx-dQSGaojCOm0YG5i5JBEkRSwBDBvef_pUQKeIsnpOcQW7HDfxEk-RXyLOG32X-b9ft_v7-VHLBA2RUZD6d81JSA6BY8/s2048/E2BB423D-CE58-4845-B8C1-0C027316687E.heic" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="text-align: left;">Just a little to tempt you to read my first novel </span><b style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #2b00fe;">The Cleaner of Kastoria</span></b><span style="text-align: left;"> if you haven't already done so.</span></a></div><p></p><p><i>"Where the trees ended the ground fell at a sharp angle like a slice of icing on a cake. The top layer of crystals twinkled under the moon that was now overhead. Dina looked ahead but she couldn't see any path. They would have to single file along the top of the ridge. She waved them on behind her. They didn't need to raise their boots so high as the snow was only ankle deep here. Dina gripped her rifle too tightly. She was frightened. It was too quiet. She looked to her right and could make out the snow covered shapes of boulders and as her eye moved across the width of the ridge it twitched in response to something. It had been a very quick flicker. Orange colour. Then black again." (p126) </i></p><p><i><br /></i></p><p><i><br /></i></p><p><i><br /></i></p><p><i><br /></i></p><p><i><br /></i></p><p><i><br /></i></p><p><i><br /></i></p><p><i><br /></i></p><p><i><br /></i></p><p><i><br /></i></p><p><i><br /></i></p><p><i><br /></i></p><p><i><br /></i></p><p><i><br /></i></p><p><i><br /></i></p><p><i><br /></i></p><p><i><br /></i></p><p><i><br /></i></p><p><i><br /></i></p><p><i><br /></i></p><p><i><br /></i></p><p><i><br /></i></p><p><i><br /></i></p><p><i><br /></i></p><p><i><br /></i></p><p><i><br /></i></p><p><i><br /></i></p><p><i><br /></i></p><p><i><br /></i></p><p><i><br /></i></p><p><i><br /></i></p><p><i><br /></i></p><p><i><br /></i></p><p><i><br /></i></p><p><i><br /></i></p><p><i><br /></i></p><p><i><br /></i></p><p><i><br /></i></p><p><i><br /></i></p><p><i><br /></i></p><p><i><br /></i></p><p><i><br /></i></p><p><i><br /></i></p><p><i><br /></i></p><p><i><br /></i></p><p><i><br /></i></p><p><i><br /></i></p><p><i><br /></i></p><p><i><br /></i></p><p><i><br /></i></p><p><i><br /></i></p><p><i><br /></i></p><p><i><br /></i></p><p><i><br /></i></p><p><i><br /></i></p><p><i><br /></i></p><p><i><br /></i></p><p><i><br /></i></p><p><i><br /></i></p><p><i><br /></i></p><p><i><br /></i></p><p><i><br /></i></p><p><i><br /></i></p><p><i><br /></i></p><p><i><br /></i></p><p><i><br /></i></p><p><i><br /></i></p><p><i><br /></i></p><p><i><br /></i></p><p><i><br /></i></p><p><i><br /></i></p> slenderbeakhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06740357753942363445noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2775402954735148052.post-31207772704042797202019-07-06T02:15:00.001-07:002019-07-06T02:15:12.305-07:00slenderbeak: Greek General Election 7th July 2019<a href="https://jacquyp.blogspot.com/2019/07/greek-general-election-7th-july-2019.html?spref=bl">slenderbeak: Greek General Election 7th July 2019</a>: I was here for the 2015 General Election. What a different atmosphere this time. My Greek friends will mainly vote Syriza. They say that t... slenderbeakhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06740357753942363445noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2775402954735148052.post-17401872313734056892019-07-06T02:12:00.001-07:002019-07-06T02:12:52.918-07:00Greek General Election 7th July 2019<br />
I was here for the 2015 General Election. What a different atmosphere this time.<br />
My Greek friends will mainly vote Syriza. They say that the choice is between Syriza and New Democracy and that if they voted for any smaller party or coalition of parties such as Varoufakis's MeRA25, they would certainly be allowing the right wing New Democracy to win. I can see their logic. It's not so far removed from the way UK voters behave. And, they say, four years is not long enough to judge the neo-liberal policies of Alexis Tsipras.<br />
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Of course, Tsipras was never a revolutionary socialist anymore than Jeremy Corbyn is, so we shouldn't expect anything different from them. According to Zoe Konstantopoulou (former Greek Parliament Speaker and Syriza), Tsipras only lasted seventeen hours in negotiations with the EU over the imposition of austerity measures on the Greek people. That pales into insignificance when you compare it to the physical torture endured by people like her father during the 1967 dictatorship. Fair point.<br />
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So, what is to be done? Mitsotakis of New Democracy wants to win an absolute majority so he can do whatever he wants but if they get it I suspect the Greek voters will live to regret the result. He has also avoided public debate with Tsipras. Uhm! Now who does that remind me of? If you scrutinize the neo-liberal agendas of western democracies they don't differ so much.<br />
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Many people are afraid to vote for who they really think will bring profound change, not only for their country but the world because alternative parties are too small and so the carousel spins round once again. It takes conviction to branch out from the stale, established system by getting off that horse and sticking to our principles. But If we don't, we will continue to get more of the same, whether it's New Democracy or Syriza, Tory or Labour. I feel I owe my children better than that. slenderbeakhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06740357753942363445noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2775402954735148052.post-11280541035791660242017-09-28T06:12:00.001-07:002017-09-28T06:12:17.078-07:00slenderbeak: National Poetry DayByron in KefaloniaByron sp...<a href="http://jacquyp.blogspot.com/2017/09/national-poetry-day-byron-in-kefalonia.html?spref=bl">slenderbeak: <br />
<br />
National Poetry Day<br />
<br />
Byron in Kefalonia<br />
Byron sp...</a>: National Poetry Day Byron in Kefalonia Byron spent four months in Kefalonia. In1821 the Ionian islands were governed by the B... slenderbeakhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06740357753942363445noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2775402954735148052.post-62012408015763702262017-09-28T06:10:00.000-07:002017-09-28T06:10:17.256-07:00<div class="MsoNormal">
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<span lang="EN-US">National Poetry Day</span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><b>Byron in Kefalonia</b><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Byron spent four
months in Kefalonia. In1821 the Ionian islands were governed by the British
Protectorate who wanted to remain neutral in the war between Turkey and Greece.
This relatively unknown verse from Byron’s journal, was written in 1823 during
his four month stay on the island. Byron
came to Kefalonia to support the men who defied the 1821 decree of the British
Protectorate government that denied them the right to help their fellow
countrymen in their uprising against the Turkish domination of the mainland.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<i><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“The Dead have been awakened
– shall I sleep?<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<i><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">The World’s at war with
tyrants – shall I crouch?<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<i><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">The Harvest’s ripe – and
shall I pause to reap?<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<i><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">I slumber not – the thorn is
in my Couch –<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<i><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Each day a trumpet soundeth
in mine ear –</span></i></div>
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<i><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Its Echo in my heart.”<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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slenderbeakhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06740357753942363445noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2775402954735148052.post-12724620959207291122017-09-12T10:45:00.001-07:002017-09-12T10:45:47.177-07:00slenderbeak: The Season Ending<a href="http://jacquyp.blogspot.com/2017/09/the-season-ending.html?spref=bl">slenderbeak: The Season Ending</a>: I visit someone in poor health. I tread on almond shells dropping from the trees as I walk up into the heart of the village. Plastic ba... slenderbeakhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06740357753942363445noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2775402954735148052.post-2580503175801037802017-09-12T10:43:00.001-07:002017-09-12T10:43:16.524-07:00The Season Ending <div class="MsoNormal">
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">I visit someone in poor health. I tread on almond shells dropping from
the trees as I walk up into the heart of the village. Plastic bags tied to
gateposts wait for the baker to drop in the daily bread. Brittle leaves from
the abandoned vines scratch along the road. The sun beats down on the ripening
pomegranates.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">There is a musty smell coming from the open doorway of a storehouse that
nurtures stone jars and an old leather harness from a donkey long since
departed. Soapy clean clothes billow in the breeze. The tiny yellow shuttered
house on the corner surrounded like a fortress by flower pots of all sizes,
roses, jasmine, coral, petunias, geraniums. I pass a garden with a well, its
bucket dancing on a rope pulley.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Prickly pears are thudding onto the parched plot behind my house. </span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Today
we have a fresh westerly wind chasing the clouds, causing a swell in the bay,
no ferry today but the boats ride high. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">According to Greek myth the pomegranate symbolizes the fruit of the dead
and the juice springs from the blood of Adonis. They are supposed to bring prosperity, abundance and luck to all.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Persephone, goddess of the underworld, was kidnapped by Hades and taken
to live in the underworld as his wife. Her mother, Demeter, goddess of harvest,
went into mourning for her lost daughter and so all things green stopped
growing. Zeus, biggest of all gods, couldn’t allow the earth to die so he
commanded Hades to return Persephone. The fates ruled that anyone who ate or
drank in the underworld was doomed to spend eternity there. Persephone had no
food but Hades offered her a pomegranate and she ate six seeds (the number
varies according to which text you read). From then on she had to spend six
months a year in the underworld. During these six months Demeter mourns and no
longer gives fertility to the earth<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">This was the ancient Greek explanation for the seasons and I'm leaving some pomegranate seeds on my doorstep tonight just in case Adonis appears.</span></div>
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slenderbeakhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06740357753942363445noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2775402954735148052.post-17001951031749811822016-09-18T11:03:00.000-07:002016-09-18T11:03:27.756-07:00Review of The Cleaner of Kastoria<div align="center" class="Standard" style="text-align: center;">
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<div class="Standard">
<b> This novel
encapsulates the Greek political scene over the past seventy years through the
engaging character and lifestyle of Dina, the Cleaner of Kastoria. She is a poor and embittered 50 year old Greek
woman, whose considerable potential could not flower both as a result of the
poverty of her village upbringing and
because she fought for the Democratic Army in the Greek Civil War of 1947. <o:p></o:p></b></div>
<div class="Standard">
<b>Dina spends her life battling to make a living as a
cleaner in a rich man's mansion. She then returns home at night to further domestic
tasks and to tend her sick daughter and a beloved little granddaughter. Rena's
lungs are affected by her unhealthy working conditions in a factory. She
remembers her time in the woman's brigade as a period when she was respected, although
h she was often half starved, exhausted and in danger. There Greek patriarchal attitudes were
replaced by equal treatment and admiration for her courage and that of her
fellow women fighters there she enjoyed a close camaraderie and some fun with
her fellow women fighters.<o:p></o:p></b></div>
<div class="Standard">
<b>This is an extremely well- researched novel giving graphic
insight into the horrors the fighters endured during that brutal civil war as
well as the repression suffered by the Greek people under
the Colonels in the seventies and the
resultant inequality . The author manages to evoke the authentic atmosphere and
beauty of the Greek landscape and to celebrate the joyous culture as well as
the struggle of ordinary people just to survive. Dina despite her travails can
often be moved by the beauty of the lake or the mountains. The narrative flows
and Dina's character, particularly, is vividly evoked as she struggles between
her commitment to her ideology and human compassion, between the needs of her
family and her passion for her left wing past. The novel is well
constructed each chapter headed by apposite historical quotes and it is an
engaging read.<o:p></o:p></b></div>
<div class="Standard">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div class="Standard">
<b>Val Simanowitz.<o:p></o:p></b></div>
slenderbeakhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06740357753942363445noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2775402954735148052.post-54945435753176329782016-09-06T10:43:00.000-07:002016-09-06T10:43:18.227-07:00Review of The Cleaner of Kastoria by Edward Wilson (Author of the Midnight Swimmer, The Envoy, The Whitehall Mandarin)Jacqueline Paizis has written an informative and powerful novel about Greece's struggle for democracy during the country's Civil War. As has happened more recently, democracy in Greece was sacrificed for Western political and economic interests. Jacqueline tells the truth about Greece. I think the Cleaner of Kastoria is a wonderful book. slenderbeakhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06740357753942363445noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2775402954735148052.post-33600406426441629722016-08-26T08:25:00.003-07:002016-08-26T08:32:48.637-07:00Review of my first novel The Cleaner of Kastoria<br />
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<div class="review-detail ratings" style="border: 0px; font-family: OpenSans, sans-serif; font-size: 18px; font-stretch: inherit; font-variant-numeric: inherit; margin: 0px 0px 5px; padding: 0px; position: relative; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span class="star-rating " style="border: 0px; display: inline-block; font-family: "opensans"; font-size: 0px; font-stretch: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-variant: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: middle;" title="5 out of 5 stars."><img alt="" src="https://static.lulu.com/shop/template-resources/20160811-1242/images/product/rating/star_full.png" style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-size: inherit; font-stretch: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-variant: inherit; font-weight: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;" /> <img alt="" src="https://static.lulu.com/shop/template-resources/20160811-1242/images/product/rating/star_full.png" style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-size: inherit; font-stretch: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-variant: inherit; font-weight: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;" /> <img alt="" src="https://static.lulu.com/shop/template-resources/20160811-1242/images/product/rating/star_full.png" style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-size: inherit; font-stretch: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-variant: inherit; font-weight: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;" /> <img alt="" src="https://static.lulu.com/shop/template-resources/20160811-1242/images/product/rating/star_full.png" style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-size: inherit; font-stretch: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-variant: inherit; font-weight: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;" /> <img alt="" src="https://static.lulu.com/shop/template-resources/20160811-1242/images/product/rating/star_full.png" style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-size: inherit; font-stretch: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-variant: inherit; font-weight: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;" /></span></div>
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<div class="review-detail author" style="border: 0px; float: left; font-family: inherit; font-size: inherit; font-stretch: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-variant: inherit; font-weight: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px 0px 5px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
By Anastasios Vamvakas</div>
<div class="review-detail date" style="border: 0px; float: right; font-family: inherit; font-size: inherit; font-stretch: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-variant: inherit; font-weight: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px 0px 5px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
05-May-2016</div>
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<div class="review-detail description" style="border: 0px; font-family: OpenSans, sans-serif; font-size: 18px; font-stretch: inherit; font-variant-numeric: inherit; margin: 0px 0px 5px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline; word-wrap: break-word;">
A compelling account of the life of a former Greek Civil War guerilla fighter. Through flashbacks and the heroine's own reminiscences, the writer sheds light on a troubled era of Greek history which still remains largely uninterpreted and has left a lasting legacy of bitterness between segments of the Greek population. The motives, hopes and subsequent frustration of the Greek Democratic National Army fighters are laid bare in the heroine's simple, everyday yet powerful language, along with a host of issues which are totally relevant to this day, such as women's and workers' rights, as well as the rise of racism and the class divide in Greek society. Drawing on interviews she conducted with real Greek women who had fought in the Civil War, Jacqueline Paizis has managed to create a poignant story with a distinct, original Greek flavour throughout. I heartily recommend it!</div>
slenderbeakhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06740357753942363445noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2775402954735148052.post-45320414562616487422015-10-11T04:53:00.001-07:002015-10-11T04:53:11.452-07:00slenderbeak: The Good Shepherd and the Bad Shepherd - A Little ...<a href="http://jacquyp.blogspot.com/2015/10/the-good-shepherd-and-bad-shepherd.html?spref=bl">slenderbeak: The Good Shepherd and the Bad Shepherd - A Little ...</a>: On a fine, balmy late September evening I was sitting on the veranda with two friends when a shepherd appeared silently at the garden railin... slenderbeakhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06740357753942363445noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2775402954735148052.post-4779558807051180202015-10-11T03:34:00.000-07:002015-10-11T04:40:33.371-07:00The Good Shepherd and the Bad Shepherd - A Little Tale from KefaloniaOn a fine, balmy late September evening I was sitting on the veranda with two friends when a shepherd appeared silently at the garden railings. His flock were milling around under the big olive tree across the road, some straying onto the road in different directions. He didn't seem to care about gathering them in. He asked for coffee twice. We said no twice but offered water. He grudgingly accepted. After drinking the water he handed the glass back through the railings without saying thank-you and turned. What I heard come out of his mouth I can only describe as a gurgling sound like coffee percolating from his lips - a private language spoken only between shepherd and sheep. He swiped his staff down on one of his flock and they started crowding away down the hill.<br />
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On the day of the big storm here I had seen the same shepherd herding his sheep up the hill outside my house. The road was a running river. I heard their little clinking bells and looking out my window, saw them trotting ankle deep in the water. I jumped in surprise when I noticed the shepherd standing still under a large umbrella on the opposite side of the road. I had never associated shepherds with having things like umbrellas. It unnerved me because his gaze was so focussed on my house<br />
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When I told Vangelis about him he explained that there were two shepherds in our village, one good, (καλος) and one bad (κακος). The bad one is the one I have described; the good one is Albanian. This good shepherd has a very old car without number plates. He is very poor and lives with his family in one of the semi-derelict buildings that were built many years ago to house the school teachers in a nearby village. He never bothers anyone or asks for anything. He just looks after his sheep and his family, in that order.<br />
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To Vangelis this is all black and white but for me? It has haunted me. Our village is populated with Siemens cookers and Samsung televisions, Fiat cars and wifi but we only have two types of shepherd.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/1/15/Rom%2C_Domitilla-Katakomben%2C_Der_gute_Hirte.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/1/15/Rom%2C_Domitilla-Katakomben%2C_Der_gute_Hirte.jpg" width="141" /></a></div>
slenderbeakhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06740357753942363445noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2775402954735148052.post-67646543848491536592015-07-02T10:06:00.001-07:002015-07-02T10:06:14.359-07:00slenderbeak: Greece - Primal Fear<a href="http://jacquyp.blogspot.com/2015/07/greece-primal-fear.html?spref=bl">slenderbeak: Greece - Primal Fear</a>: IN case you have been hibernating or in some remote part of the world where there is no internet or newspapers you will have heard that the... slenderbeakhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06740357753942363445noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2775402954735148052.post-74320192641717516782015-07-02T10:05:00.000-07:002015-07-02T10:05:23.929-07:00Greece - Primal Fear<br />
IN case you have been hibernating or in some remote part of the world where there is no internet or newspapers you will have heard that there is a very important referendum in Greece on Sunday.<br />
Talking to people here over the last few days it emerges that the Samaras, New Democracy camp claim they have 70% of the Yes vote in Sunday's referendum. The Syriza Left predict a 54% No vote and around 40% Yes. The people I have spoken to are a cross section of plumbers, electricians, bus drivers, retired seaman, shopkeepers, fire engine driver, housewife, holiday apartment owners, students.<br />
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When Tsipras spoke to the country recently he said something that stayed in my head. His words were to the effect that the only thing Greeks have to fear is fear itself. This will be tested on Sunday. I sense there are plenty of Greeks who will vote Yes out of fear of the unknown. They may not really believe in their Yes vote but they will cross their ballot paper that way because they believe there is some safety being within Europe. Fear of the unknown, fear of what is foreign is called xenophobia, a Greek word of course. Sometimes we are our own worst enemies.<br />
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The No vote encompasses a myriad of voices who disagree on many issues but they understand that a No vote will send a clear message to the creditors, bankers, eurogroup but also to their supporters in other southern European countries such as Spain that they will not stand idle to be humiliated and dictated to by the Eurogroup bullies. Even the German parliament has Hellenophiles who urge an end to the punishment of the Greek people because they had the audacity to elect a Left wing government and say no to further austerity.<br />
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Whatever you think of the Syriza government now is not the time to cut them down in their prime. What a short chance, what impatience it is to suggest their time is up. For what? To elect another Party of grey suited men (with ties) who will do the bidding of any eurogroup as long as they are 'allowed' to 'stay' in Europe. As if Greece was going to be uprooted and replanted in some other part of the world.<br />
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Having said this I admit to a fear. It is the fear that the vote will be Yes and it will open the way for more hardship, more suicides, less available medicines and quite likely a return of Samaras. That's what he is planning. That's why he is courting favour with the likes of Junker.<br />
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Fear is primal. We must scream it away. slenderbeakhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06740357753942363445noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2775402954735148052.post-39995384178367221962015-05-18T07:05:00.001-07:002015-05-18T07:05:06.887-07:00slenderbeak: What Is To Be Done About English Politics?<a href="http://jacquyp.blogspot.com/2015/05/what-is-to-be-done-about-english.html?spref=bl">slenderbeak: What Is To Be Done About English Politics?</a>: People keep adding more information to the overflowing pot. We read avidly, to understand more. But do we? Is our search for greater unders... slenderbeakhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06740357753942363445noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2775402954735148052.post-80782696445192878442015-05-18T06:59:00.000-07:002015-05-18T06:59:27.146-07:00What Is To Be Done About English Politics?<br />
People keep adding more information to the overflowing pot. We read avidly, to understand more. But do we? Is our search for greater understanding just a disaffection that infects us all sooner or later? I'm on the Left politically, have been since I was fifteen. Why have we just chosen to punish ourselves with another five years of Tory government?<br />
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Yes, we can argue that the three Party, first past the post system is unfair and explain some of it that way but what about those who voted Tory who are not Tory bigots, who didn't go to Eton, who work in ordinary jobs with average wages that don't allow them to get a mortgage or even pay the rent? Or those without jobs at all? Maybe they are just 'aspirational.' They want better things for themselves and their children and they believe they have more chance of getting these if they vote Tory rather than Labour or Lib Dem. Maybe they want to be like David and Samantha.<br />
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It's difficult for people who have a comfortable life (not luxurious, forget them), just comfortable, to believe, let alone understand how impoverished some of the UK population has become, how food banks are necessary for a growing number of people. If you live in a leafy suburb or a village it can be like hearing about a completely different world and certainly if your circle of friends doesn't include anyone who is struggling then you may have cast your vote for the bigots. Others will have voted UKIP but let's leave those aside because they're not in government and Farage didn't even get elected in South Thanet. I'm from South East Kent, near Dover. I get embarrassed every time UKIP and immigration is on Southern news. I know not everyone in my home area is a UKIP voter but still...<br />
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So, the Tory vote. Another thought that comes to mind is that the English, on the whole, don't particularly embrace change. We are still too deferential towards the political establishment. Some people voted Tory because they believed a change in government would be worse than staying with the devil they knew. (In saying this I'm in no way writing off the English working classes. I'm one of them). But we need to get rid of our timidity when faced with laws that don't serve our interests or when a government threatens to take away such laws that do protect our interests. We allowed the Thatcher government to take away one of the most important trade union rights with the 1982 Trade Union Reform Act. We went from standing on the picket lines in solidarity with other workers to standing in police stations because we had contravened the new law. Without solidarity across industries workers are ripe pickings for an anti trade union government like this one. Laws present a huge barrier to the English. We respect the law even when we know deep down it's a rotten one and has been introduced to disable us in our opposition. Trade union leaders have a lot to answer for here. Why aren't they more apparent, outspoken, obviously going all out to defend their members and to recruit new ones? Where are the Arthur Scargills of today?<br />
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Here, in Greece people have a less deferential attitude. You may say 'and look where that's got them.' but that would be missing the point big time. There is a courageous spirit here that goes all the way. A passion that drives. A people who were brave enough to take a conscious risk by voting for SYRIZA. And don't imagine for a moment that all those voters believe that SYRIZA alone can solve the Greek monetary crisis (which isn't of their making anyway). Many of them have huge reservations about the government and what it's trying to do. Among those who voted for this coalition, some of whom are MPs, are people who believe Greece should never have entered the Euro. Despite this they said <i>οχι</i> to the Samaras devil.<br />
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Even if we had voted in a Labour government (I did vote Labour without illusions) that would not have been a government of the Left. Miliband is not a radical. A shame he didn't continue in the footsteps of his late father. So, some people will have refused to vote Labour because they knew that they would not get a Left government if they did. Others were afraid of the opposite. For some weird reason they believed Miliband represented Left-wing scary. He hadn't convinced the Left of his credentials and he hadn't convinced the Middle and Right that he was harmless. So in the end he achieved nothing and Labour is in a wilderness.<br />
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We could try entrism again. In the 1970s some people joined the Labour Party to radicalise it from within. If we believe power comes from the bottom up then this is one way of doing it. More recently we tried forming alternative Parties that would appeal to a wide electorate. For a while it looked like Respect was getting somewhere but then the inevitable cracks started appearing and now even George Galloway has lost his seat. In the words of Lenin: 'What is to be Done?' slenderbeakhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06740357753942363445noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2775402954735148052.post-80626147887782444932015-05-16T07:37:00.001-07:002015-05-16T07:37:41.286-07:00slenderbeak: A Writer's Lament<a href="http://jacquyp.blogspot.com/2015/05/a-writers-lament.html?spref=bl">slenderbeak: A Writer's Lament</a>: What's the point in writing when it's all been said before? My short story has failed to even make the short list for a recent com... slenderbeakhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06740357753942363445noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2775402954735148052.post-81196357546277447762015-05-16T07:35:00.000-07:002015-05-16T07:35:57.467-07:00A Writer's Lament<br />
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What's the point in writing when it's all been said before? My short story has failed to even make the short list for a recent competition. Apparently short stories are different from what I wrote. The judge's feedback on how to write a successful short story includes the following: 'All short stories are about change and transformation', 'need to kick into life immediately with a strong, vivid and involving first paragraph.' Well, what about the reader persevering a little? I have read short stories that I didn't get into until the second page let alone the first paragraph and they were fine examples of writing.<br />
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I really do question whether it's worth subjecting myself to all this. I am to blame of course, for putting myself up for this form of external evaluation. My internal evaluation likes my writing but it never feels this is enough. I wish it did. I feel like all I have to look forward to is more rejections which in turn reinforce my sense of failure. Writing is a form of masochism. Well, not the writing itself but what the writer does with her writing, that's the masochistic part. We are constantly bombarded with messages to enter this or that competition, to pay a mentor to guide and edit our work, how to write a best seller, to attend workshops that will inspire our imagination. Then there are the marketeers who follow you in order to make money by offering to get your book published. A whole noisy industry has grown up around what was once the quiet world of the writer. It's hard to ignore it especially when writing is and has to be such a solitary occupation. The need to get out and mingle, the curiosity for some feedback on the hours you've spent pounding the keyboard or getting cramp from holding the pen are surely common to all of us writers. And then we retreat into our caves again and mull over what we have heard and somewhere among all this tangled web we have to retrieve our own voice again, not that of others, however well meaning.<br />
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So it seems to me that the Twenty First Century writing industry has got us over a barrel. Before the Twentieth Century writers didn't have these distractions but their lives would have been harsher in other ways. Yes, I know stamina is a vital ingredient of any writer's recipe but I wonder if Dickens felt he could add nothing to the world because it had all been said before? Did George Elliot doubt she was writing something revolutionary about her sex? Answers anyone?</div>
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<br /> slenderbeakhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06740357753942363445noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2775402954735148052.post-16162724698849596362015-04-22T00:38:00.000-07:002015-04-22T00:38:29.721-07:00The Greek Kerbside Weed<br />
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<i>"Be still when you have nothing to say; when genuine passion moves you, say what you've got to say and say it hot" (D.H. Lawrence)</i><br />
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Weeds are things we tend to pay attention to in England when we see they're taking over the garden and strangling flowers and shrubs. Here in Greece they wave and bend at the kerbside, some tall, others brightly flowered. Sometimes they completely block the pavement forcing pedestrians to step out into the road for lengthy stretches, a hazardous decision in a country where the car is king.<br />
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You might not expect people to get hot under the collar about the 'weed issue' when the<br />
Greek economy is so battered and fragile but it's the smallest things that are a often a sign of decay in society. They are noticed and felt, dignity is dented and people are ashamed that local councils don't have the money to keep their environment tidy. Last night my lovely landlady rescued a kitten someone had dumped in the weeds on the main road and the kitten was struggling to climb out to its probable death. She already feeds two cats but her heart would not allow her to leave the mewing kitten. She called the person who had dumped the kitten a murderer. 'Just like the bankers', she added. slenderbeakhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06740357753942363445noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2775402954735148052.post-70553714063203399502015-03-12T07:50:00.001-07:002015-03-12T07:50:09.804-07:00slenderbeak: The Comfort of Myths<a href="http://jacquyp.blogspot.com/2015/03/the-comfort-of-myths.html?spref=bl">slenderbeak: The Comfort of Myths</a>: 'Alcyone...found herself flying, beating the air with wings newly-formed. Changed into a sorrowing bird, she skimmed the surface of th... slenderbeakhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06740357753942363445noreply@blogger.com0