Spotting the hardware shop was still open Socrates decided to call in and demand his money back for the hideous old lady dress he had purchased there and which Stavroula hated. He realised he may have to get all ‘lawyerly’ with Bald Yannis, the hardware shop owner, as each man shared a mutual antipathy towards the other. Bald Yannis had a reputation for being a bit mad and openly insulting his customers. At least Stavroula only referred to her customers as malakas behind their backs and not to their faces.
Bald Yannis was sitting behind his cash register, furtively thumbing through the pages of a women’s underwear catalogue, as Socrates entered. Hurriedly shoving it under the counter Bald Yannis picked up a chainsaw in a threatening manner at the sight of Socrates fingering his irritating komboloi worry beads, something Bald Yannis considered a great affectation.
“Yassou Yanni,” Socrates said. “I want my money back for this hideous dress as it too small for Stavroula.”
“Po po,” tutted Bald Yannis in reply, “that’s the largest size I stock. Stavroula must be a bit of a heifer if she can’t squeeze into it.” Pointing to a prominently displayed sign on the wall which read ‘No refunds and no credit: the war is over,’ Bald Yannis said “use your ‘lawyerly’ skills to read that and put it in your pipe and smoke it, malaka. No money back for that perfectly lovely dress.” With that he pulled the chain on the chainsaw while laughing manically.
Making a quick exit Socrates threatened “you’ve not heard the last of this,” shamefacedly tripping over the hardware shop cat on his way.
Hearing the church bells ringing in the distance Socrates decided to make an impromptu visit to Petula, the Pappas’s wife. She would be sure to appreciate the thoughtful gift of an old lady dress as the priest was very tight with his money and considered new clothes an excessive luxury.
Petula was busy pickling stifado onions when Socrates arrived unannounced at her kitchen door. Her heart sank at the sight of this unwanted visitor, worried he may notice the painful black eye she was doing her best to conceal. She was far too polite to show her true feelings so invited him in and poured him a glass of ouzo, saying “the Pappas will be home any minute you know and won’t be best pleased to find you here drinking his ouzo.”
“But my cherub, I have brought you a gift,” said Socrates, presenting the dress to her with a flourish. Petula melted a little inside at the considerate gesture. It was so long since the Pappas had given her anything apart from the back of his fist. The dress delighted her , being so lovely and just her size. The Pappas never noticed what she wore and wouldn’t realise she had received something new so it seemed safe to accept the thoughtful gift.
Socrates had of course noticed Petula’s black eye but spared her embarrassment by not mentioning it. He suspected the Pappas had been a bit free with his fists. Not wanting to land her in more hot water he knocked back his ouzo and stood up to leave, feeling sorry for Petula and the miserable life the Pappas made her endure.
It was time someone stood up to the Pappas, but if the Pappas knew that people knew he knocked Petula around he may well make her life even more difficult. It was a delicate situation which Socrates dwelled on as he made his departure, turning his footsteps in the direction of ‘Mono Ellinika Trofima.’
Chapter 26
A Festive Mood in the Taverna
Still fretting over Petula’s black eye Socrates arrived at the rival taverna and was greeted with delight by his good friend Takis. He confessed Stavroula has thrown him out by the ear, not wanting him tempted by the voluptuous silicone charms of mail order Masha. Takis was most surprised to hear Stavroula was the jealous type, but then again Socrates had quite a reputation as a ladies’ man.
Yiota acted completely surprised when Socrates asked for a plate of goat, telling him “goat’s out of season,” and offering him the night’s special of a scrumptious dish spinach and black eyed beans. “Yous can ‘ave some keftedes on the side if the spinach dish is too vegetarian for yous liking.”
Socrates was quite relieved that his good friend Takis was not after all involved in the mysterious case of the disappearing goat as he didn’t enjoy taking his good friends to court. As a bonus Yiota’s keftedes were definitely worth giving up snails for.
Takis confided in Socrates the American visitors had laughingly expected him to cook up some foreign McDonalds muck. Socrates knew this little gem of gossip would make Stavroula happy as she would be willing to cook McDonalds, whatever it was, to lure the Americans to her taverna.
Meanwhile Adonis was making plans to take Quentin and Deirdre out to show them the sights the next day. He planned to woo the pair with his charms during a scenic drive and then surprise them with a viewing of a local house he was trying to sell for a large commission. The fact they had no intentions of buying a house in the village was a moot point as he could be incredibly persuasive, as other impressionable foreigners had discovered.
A silence fell over the taverna when Masha the mail order bride entered, followed by that old food Vasilis. All the men had missed Masha’s presence that evening and were most delighted she had made an appearance at this late hour, even if she did usually ignore them. Stomachs were sucked in and mouths gaped open as Masha removed her fur coat to reveal a tarty little number, leaving little to the imagination.
Masha ordered a large glass of vodka while complaining to Yiota she had made a mistake by dining at Stavroula’s taverna. She suspected the bossy woman has poisoned them with stale snails as the dish had been quite offensively malodorous. Yiota was most flattered to be told by Masha that she was a far superior cook to Stavroula.
Vasilis was very happy to have the chance to bend Socrates’ ear about the latest olive tree feud with his old neighbour Sotiris. Socrates promised to pay a personal visit to the olive tree the next morning and would bring his tape measure along to ascertain the exact dimensions of the disputed border. Masha felt no guilt at all she had already spent the lawyer’s fee on her blood red nail extensions.
Socrates had a quiet word with Adonis, relaying his concern he had spotted Adonis’ cousin Petula with a bit of a shiner of a black eye. He discreetly didn’t mention he had called at the house. “If that malaka the Pappas has been beating my cousin a curse on his ‘ouse,” said Adonis, promising to call round and get to the bottom of it all.
“He can’t even stay sober through his services anymore,” Adonis said, reflecting the Pappas often appeared to be drunk and bad tempered, a dangerous combination in his opinion.
The mood in the taverna was festive as everyone apart from Socrates, Masha and Vasilis had dined very well on the tasty road kill goat. Drinks were flowing freely and the conversation was lively as everyone shouted across the tables. Quentin and Deirdre were feeling remarkably at home, enjoying every moment of the most excellent company and looking forward to a trip out with Adonis the following day.
Prosperous Pedros stood up to go, pondering on the likelihood of running into the Pappas lurking by the harbour. He was convinced the sight of the Pappas was a bad omen for the night’s catch even though the moonless night sky was a good sign for fishing. Everyone was sad to see popular Prosperous Pedros take his leave. “He go to the fishing now,” explained Adonis. “He fish at the midnight as he ‘ave no woman to go home to.”
Chapter 27
The Pappas’ Fishing Curse
Prosperous Pedros, the ‘sometime’ vegetarian, had suffered a dismal time fishing recently. On top of the full moon which stops the fish from biting he’d had the misfortune to entangle his lines in Toothless Tasos’ nets, leading to many wasted hours laboriously untangling his lines. His catch was so poor it was a waste of time putting the boat out to sea, not to mention the cost of the diesel and bait. Now his luck had precipitously changed and he was catching far more fish than any of his fishing rivals.
Apparently this change of fortune is all down to him passing the Pappas in the harbour as he returned from a poor night's fishing. He convinced himself the sight of the Pappas was
a good omen as immediately his luck changed.
On the flip side Prosperous Pedros ended up superstitiously convinced if he passes the Pappas in the harbour after a good night’s fishing his good fortune will be immediately reversed, a syndrome he has named the ‘Pappas’ fishing curse’. He must now be extremely careful there are no priests hanging around before legging it back to dry land with his bounty of fish.
A good catch is all about bragging rights for Prosperous Pedros. Although he splits his time between olive farming in the winter and fishing after springtime he does it for pleasure rather than for any need to increase his bank balance. His wise father made some excellent investments in land and property after the war, which fell into Pedros’ lap as a sizeable inheritance.
Despite his wealth Pedros is not at all flashy, preferring to live a simple life in a little stone cottage with an outside bathroom. His old pick-up truck is precariously held together with tape and his fishing boat is an old weatherworn wooden type rather than the modern plastic variety. He likes to spend his days studying the many historical books his father collected and he has an unnatural fear of leaving the confines of the village.
He is only comfortable around those he knows well, accounting for his habit of spending every single evening in the same taverna. His idea of social hell is to have to drive over the mountains into town and conduct any business in stores with strange staff.
On his last visit to town four years ago he was mortified at the thought of entering a clothes shop and dealing with a strange woman. He finally plucked up the courage to call out his needs from the entrance, returning home with two new pullovers and some work trousers he hadn’t tried on. Ever resourceful he is contemplating taking up knitting so as to avoid a repeat visit when his pullovers become threadbare and need replacing.
Prosperous Pedros uses the excuse of the old crone of his widowed mother to avoid leaving the village. He keeps her in a separate house in the neighbouring village of Rapanaki, named for a radish, calling in dutifully every evening to check on her needs. His mother Fotini is a nagging shrew with not an ounce of natural motherly love for her dutiful son. She is a tiny woman rattling round in a large house she rarely leaves, constantly expecting her son to be at her beck and call. Her nasty nature has permanently alienated the good folks of the village whose patience has worn thin from her endless insults.
Prosperous Pedros gets worn down by her demanding phone calls as she telephones at the oddest of hours, instructing him to come round and change a light bulb or oil a squeaky door. She continually expects him to call in the village shop to purchase chocolates and sweets to satisfy her voraciously sweet tooth, and to collect her numerous prescriptions from the pharmacy.
He attempts to limit his visits to once a day, calling in on his way to the taverna in the evening. Although he has repeatedly told her not to cook for him she always has a meal prepared that she expects him to eat. He dutifully consumes it before leaving to eat another one at the taverna.
He finds the convivial company there relaxes him after the daily ordeal of dealing with his formidable mother. It is no wonder he has remained single all his life as he was a first hand witness to the way his mother’s nagging made his docile father’s life a living hell.
Chapter 28
The Outside Bathroom
When Prosperous Pedros’ father first purchased the tiny stone fishing cottage by the sea, which Prosperous Pedros now lives in, he envisioned it as a bolthole to escape from his demanding wife. He filled it with his musty history books and enjoyed many a solitary hour living in the past.
One of the great ironies of modern Greek history is the military junta, who came to power in 1967, and were generally despised as a cruel dictatorship, did introduce one thing to rural Greece which was a welcome change. The junta decreed every home had the right to have a bathroom. This may strike some as a contradictory communist notion for a military power to come up with. The truth is quite a few people were suspect of this generous offer, because not only were the junta decreeing bathroom rights for all, they were paying for them too.
Now when a house has never had a bathroom the natural thing for the rural peasant of that time was to build an outdoor bathroom. Some built them onto the sides of their houses with outside access and many old village houses still feature this style.
Others didn’t quite understand the concept so well and simply installed a modern toilet in the garden with a wooden surround. Prosperous Pedros’ father originally planned to have his new outside loo adjoining the cottage but the neighbour’s wife complained it would spoil the view from her kitchen window.
Not wanting to become embroiled in a lifelong feud with the neighbour, a common Greek occurrence, Pedros’ father complied and moved the position of the toilet a good few hundred meters away, ensuring a muddy tramp across water-logged ground in winter to reach the facilities.
Most excellent work was done within the small confines of the four walls. An uneven concrete floor was laid but never tiled, nails were inserted into the walls for handily hanging clothes on while showering, and a hosepipe was connected to a water barrel on the roof, allowing cold showers. No light was installed as electricity hadn’t reached the rural outreaches then.
Despite having the financial means to improve the bathroom situation Prosperous Pedros was quite content to leave things as they were. He tramped across the garden to shower with the cold water hosepipe and carried a new fangled torch if he needed a light.
Ten years ago the unexpected happened and Prosperous Pedros met a woman and fell madly in love. His friends convinced him no matter however much the woman loved him no modern woman in her right mind was going to be satisfied with an outside toilet with a hosepipe as a place to do her ablutions. The very idea was absurd.
In the first flush of love Prosperous Pedros rushed out and purchased a modern spray head shower attached to a water cistern, which he balanced on the toilet roof in lieu of the barrel. He even connected the shower to the electric system to heat the water. There was no getting round the fact the shower was still practically on top of the toilet, as space was at a premium.
Instead of his thoughtful efforts being received with gratitude the woman was not amused. Pedros expected her to cross the soggy land in public view, stand on a wet and ant ridden concrete floor, disrobe and hang her clothes on the by now rusted nails, to shower. A howling draught came under the door along with the insects.
Her disappointment was evident and it was clear she would settle for nothing less than an inside bathroom, rather than one on public display. Having known nothing better himself Pedros considered her ungrateful.
The final straw was reached when one day the woman had no choice but to partake of the toilet facility and entered only to burst in upon a pig. It was too much. No woman should be expected to share her bathroom facilities with a pig, when the goat and wandering cows had been bad enough. She had no choice but to leave him.
She soon met another man who could offer her the luxury of an inside bathroom. One day after showering in the new man’s bathroom she slipped on the wet tiles, banged her head on the marble washbasin and bled to death on the bathroom floor. As Prosperous Pedros expected to remain single he never bothered installing an indoor bathroom.
Chapter 29
Olives Aren’t Eatable from the Tree
“It’s so nice of you to take us out for a scenic drive,” Deirdre said to Adonis as they enjoyed a morning coffee in Stavroula’s taverna before setting off on their journey.
“This is what the good friends do,” Adonis replied. “When I visit your country you take me all round Big Apple.”
“We don’t live in New York,” said Quentin “we come from Idaho.”
“Is all fine,” said Adonis, “you can take me round yous potatoes.”
Stavroula appeared table side, asking Adonis to tell the American pair she was preparing a special meal of homemade McDonalds for them that evening. Socrates had told her they were craving thi
s strange foreign food and she had instructed him to find out what it was so she could use her culinary skills to replicate it.
“What a treat to look forward to,” Deirdre said, though in truth she wasn’t craving it as much anymore and was really developing a taste for the delicious Greek food. Last night’s goat had been first rate, tasting just like the finest lamb.
“Let us be on our way,” Adonis said, leading the way out to his pick-up truck. Roaring off through the village they narrowly avoided knocking Petros the postman off his borrowed donkey.
Driving along the coastal road Deirdre caught a glimpse of Prosperous Pedros crossing his garden wrapped in nothing but a towel. “Ah that Pedros he live in the past like a peasant with the outdoor bathroom,” said Adonis. “I ‘ave very modern ‘otel, but is closed now as I ‘ave the builder in nailing up shower curtains in the bathrooms. We open soon and if yous still ‘ere you can move in instead of staying over Yiota’s, no?”
“No,” agreed Quentin “the car will be fixed soon and then we will be off on the rest of our Grand European tour. Mind you we do like it here very much, the pace of life is so relaxing and everyone is very friendly and welcoming.”
“Well apart from Bald Yannis at the hardware store,” said Deirdre “I think he tried to sell us a cat to cook.”
“Bald Yannis is bigly malaka,” agreed Adonis, pointing out things of interest they were passing. The sea lined one side of the road and the other side was dotted with row upon row of olive trees below the undulating hills. His habit of taking his hands of the steering wheel to make the sign of the cross as they passed every roadside shrine unnerved Deirdre, but he squeezed her thigh and told her not to worry while offering her a sip from his hip flask.
Goat In The Meze: A farcical look at Greek life (The Greek Meze Series Book 1) Page 5