Unusually, I was scheduled to play golf on Sunday, rather than Saturday. "Let's do something. Go into town?"
No sooner were the words out of my mouth and the phone rang. The oven man was coming. Again. This time, to change the thermostat. "OK. After the oven man." Spice stood stock still on the balcony, barking at the BBQ chimney. "It's a snake!" Mrs L has the speed of a gazelle when faced by a snake. She opened the screen door, leaped behind it and closed it again in one movement.
The inter-phone from the front gate rang. I let the oven men in, as I advanced upon the balcony, 5 iron in hand. We got the oven men to the oven, and the dogs into the kitchen, while I stalked our slippery friend, which had found a comforting niche amongst the crossbeams and roof of our main terrace. To get him (or her, I didn't ask) out, I would need to flick it back towards me. The idea of flicking a snake onto my head quickened my decision process considerably.
"Phone the snake man." I panted, having rematerialised on the safe side of the screen door. With Mrs L. And Spice. And Charlie. And the oven men.
I advised the oven man to isolate the oven, flicking off the red switch behind the microwave. He blindly reached over, flicking the switch. Efficiently, he changed the thermostat and reconnected it, instantly tripping the ring main, spiking his hair and giving himself the aspect of a man who has just thought to himself "that wasn't a fart".
"The electric is still on."
"Is it?" I asked innocently.
I imagined the microwave wouldn't work. I suppose blind, one switch feels much like any other. Poor chap.
Wiring himself into the mains had the added effect of blowing the new thermostat, which now needs replacing. Muttering darkly, he re-fitted the old thermostat and promised to return at an unspecified future date. I thought better of offering him a comb and ushered him past the snake.
Mercifully quickly, the snake man appeared. "Where's the baby?"
"If you mean the snake - it's up there." I pointed.
"Coinsnake. Harmless. Can you hold my phone? Wait? How did you get behind that screen door?"
"Never mind. It's a talent. Yes, I'll film you rescuing the 'baby'."
Yianni got hold of the snake, which promptly bit him twice, until its head was grasped and it settled on becoming a dynamic bangle.
"You want to see? Wait. You're the other side of the screen again? You're deceptively quick for a big fella."
"Come any closer and both you and the snake will be smashed into the middle of that vineyard." I growled, 5 iron in hand. (Did I mention, I really don't like snakes?)
Anyway. Mrs L and I were finally free to go into town. What's more, she was driving.
We settled on a newish restaurant called Jam, where we brunched in the modern style, avocado toast and eggs benedict everywhere. It was splendid. We talked, I believe we may even have laughed. It was just so lovely to have a tiny window of normality. Free of car keys, I washed down brunch with a few glasses of Xynisteri, an indigenous grape variety that makes for a crisp light white.
Ah...this is what I signed up for...#livingthedream
We took a stroll around the sunlit marina, and before I knew what happened, I'd purchased my much-coveted, discussed, iPhone-mini.
The dangers of brunch.
I'll share my thoughts on it once I've played with it for a bit.
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