Snork Maiden - Vide Bateau

 

2022

 

Ready to sail 2014

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Our sailing yacht, Snork Maiden, has been judged by the insurers to be ‘beyond economic repair’, due to interior fresh water flooding whilst stored on land.  France The insurers may accept an offer for the boat, and this could be of interest to someone who wanted to do the work themselves.  So far as we know the hull is sound and the spars and standing rigging are in good condition.  There is a complete set of running rigging available by separate negotiation.
If interested in making an offer for the boat, please contact Jenny Jones by email
shark@thesea.co.uk
Or telephone Al Lethbridge who speaks fluent French +44 7973 563639
We will pass on the details for the offer.
The boat can be seen at
JMS chantier
Port du Corps de Garde
Poitou Charente
17230
Contact: Benoit Gresanleux
+33 (0) 6 76 45 86 99‬

Sadler 29 1982
Here is a full description of the boat.  This vessel was number 004 out of the mould and was finished by the first buyer.  So she is not ‘unsinkable’ and as a consequence there is much more storage space than is standard in these boats.  She is very well equipped and well suited to passage making.  She has been stored on land every winter since we have owned her (1 exception) and has currently been ashore for several years. Draft is 1.52 metres with a fin keel design.  There is a 2-bladed prop.  The rudder is hung on a skeg and was rebuilt professionally in 2010.  Surveyed 2018.  (Survey available on request).

Cockpit is spacious and comfortable with wooden slats.  There is a large locker on the port side.  Separate gas locker. Fuel tank 60L.  Nexus wireless wind instrument with separate display, depth and speed combined sensor all with cockpit display, mounted above companionway.  Digital Yacht chart plotter & AIS display.

 

 

Forward of main cabin, separated by a louvered door, are heads on the P side, washbasin, cupboard and good-sized dry locker on S side.  Sea toilet is a Blake’s Baby – highly efficient, not subject to blockages if treated well and completely odour free. Going forward there is a double V berth cabin with infill.   There are sail lockers beneath the berth, and a flexi-tank forward of those, carrying 115L of water. Storage shelf above narrow end of V.

 

ALL INTERIOR PHOTOS TAKEN BEFORE THE FLOODING.  THEY GIVE AN IDEA OF HOW THE BOAT CAN LOOK, AND WHAT MIGHT BE SALVAGABLE.

  

 

 

 

 

 

Deck & Rigging: sloop rig with mainsail (2014) from Le Bihan. 4 battens. Basic lazyjack system, slab reefing with ‘dog ears’.  Standing rigging 2014. 6 Lewmar winches (jib sheet winches are 2 speed). Mainsheet traveller above companionway.  Selden solid vang. Spinlock clutches to P. 4 headsails – Genoa, working jib, #3 – can be reefed, storm jib (unused).  All with sail bags, maintained every season.  2 sets of tracks to give maximum flexibility in positioning genoa cars (2 sets). Spare / spinnaker halyards. Adjustable backstay.  Flag halyards.

 Machinery: Bukh diesel HV20 – now water damaged, needs re-build / replacement

Instruments & Electronics: Nexus wind speed, direction, speed log, depth sounder.  Furuno radar, Furuno Navtex, Battery indicator, Garmin GPS.  May be some damage from damp.

Ground tackle:  25lb CQR with chain & rode in separate bow anchor locker.  Spare Danforth, Fisherman, small grapple for use with dinghy.

Miscellaneous: 2 new 110 amp hour batteries, boat hook, buoy grabber, mooring lines, fuel & water containers. Awning, wind scoop. Some cooking equipment, crockery, cutlery.

ITEMS TO BE SOLD SEPARATELY 

The items listed below are all invaluable to a small cruising yacht.  We will accept realistic offers. 

SEA FEATHER Wind vane steering: a robust, reliable and elegant self-steering system for sailboats, beautifully crafted in first quality materials. For details see website.   http://sea-feather.co.uk/ 

Sea Feather mount - custom made for boat but would probably transfer to any flat stern.

Offers over 500 euros please.

The Sea Feather had been coated with WD40 and wrapped in plastic, so no damage (it was on the aft bunk, not flooded; in any case, it was built for use at sea).  Spare wind vane.  Wooden rudder just visible.

 

Sea Feather illustration - handbook.

VHF not available.

 

 

Dinghy:  Tinker Tramp. Rigid floor. Canvas cover. Repair kit. Inflator.  Oars. Sorry no photos.  As seen.  Punctured inner tube on one side, but outer tubes good when last used.

Offers over 200 euros

 
2-stroke outboard engine MERCURY 3.3 hp - not tested

Offers - dependent on working order.

 

 

VIKING LIFE RAFT - good quality, regularly serviced, valise type.  Outer bag was flooded, but liferaft in sealed waterproof container. May be inspected.

If intact, offers over 300 euros.  These liferafts cost around 2000 euros when new. 

Tiller Extension - good quality, aluminium.  Very comfortable to use, length adjustable. Mounting peg on tiller.

Offers over 20 euros

 Headlining material - several metres of cream 'leather look' lining plus some adhesive.  Stored indoors.  Benoit has access.

Workbench - small, unused, in store - 10 Euros

2 X Raymarine ST 1000 tiller pilots

Need to check working order and offer accordingly. 

Spinnaker (whisker pole)
Offers from 50 euros

 

Many other items - mooring lines, galley equipment, water damaged but useable charts and pilot books, workbench, diesel, solvents, please help yourself to any of these items.  No charge, donate to a sea rescue charity if you wish.

Please leave cash with Benoit at JMS Chantier in Charron, or request our bank account details.

All photos here are pre-flood.

  Powered portable cool box (mains or 12V)

 

Some tools and spares available.

Pilot books

Lee cloth

 

 

 

 

 

Many items have been superficially damaged, but can be salvaged.  Some items are stored by Benoit at JMS.  The boat itself belongs now to the insurance company (see above) but all the rest belongs to us.  We are anxious that anything useable is disposed of before winter rains begin, so please take a look and help yourelf to small items.  make offers to us as necessary by email or phone.  We live in Greece, so cannot deal with enquiries in person.  You could use Facetime or something similar if you want to bargain or discuss individual items. 

Jenny Jones +44 7836 538873

Al Lethbridge +44 7973 563639

shark@thesea.co.uk

Benoit Gresanleux
+33 (0) 6 76 45 86 99‬

Additional photos

Miscellaneous goods

Spares

 

France 2022: A Night to Remember - Brittany and South again

 Music

So here we are, leaving Marans at last We have raided Bricomart and have a tarp over all of the Snork Maiden inventory that just might be worth saving / selling.  We will be sorry to leave the campsite which is spacious, wooded (first night was full of owls) and seems to attract few visitors.  

Maybe they are put off by the very busy N road that passes through the centre of what would otherwise be a pretty south-of-the-Loire town.  It is on the northern boundary of Nouvelle Aquitaine (the old Poitou-Charentes) and situated in the Marais Poitevin - a network of waterways that criss cross this naturally marshy area.  The original canals and ditches were dug out by local monks, helped out in the 17C by Dutch engineers.  They are a  prominent feature of the local landscape, although if you speed up the N135 you might not even notice they are there.  We have previously had some canoe adventures in the Venise-Verte area (somewhere in the blog archive) - always a good place to go in the heat, with it’s maze of navigable ditches shaded by trees.  

One evening we decided to explore the immediate surroundings of the campsite.  It started well with a walk along the first canal.  Men fishing, one a young chef who had decided life was better on a riverbank, with his dog, fishing for carp with his own-recipe ‘carp balls’.  He was hoping to perfect these and sell them commercially.  Another chap in a sort of inflatable fishing coracle that he powered along with flippered feet, a bit like a large rubber swan.  Nobody was catching much but they seemed content enough.  I think Al was looking longingly at the riverside houses we passed, some with their own landing stages or fishing platforms.  If it wasn’t for the region's current drought and heatwaves, he could be tempted.  

We turned in from the canal to follow a farm track.  Then another took us past a field o sunflowers and to what I hoped (thanks to Ms Google) would be the back of the campsite wood.  I didn’t bargain for the pair of ditches that separated us from our objective.  They wouldn’t have stopped the Ukrainian army, but they weren’t part of the evening stroll, so back we went, the long way, to the campsite at sunset an another one pot supper.

The next morning, or maybe the morning after, we were packed by around 11am and heading Northwards in the general direction of Brittany.  It’s a long way, and without an early start, maybe a bit too long, so we broke the journey along the way, just putting up the small tent for an overnight stop in a campsite by a lake in South Brittany.  Our small tent, for those of you who haven’t met it, is a quickly erected mountain tent, just big enough for the 2 of us, and with a small space for water bottles etc under front flysheet.  We bought it at a long defunct camping shop near the Shepherd’s Bush Roundabout, hungover, and just before closing time on a Saturday afternoon.  In spite of that, we made a good choice that’s given us decades of travelling shelter.  But in recent times, the main inner tent zip has given way, and despite a professional repair, has done so again.  The upshot of that is that it is no longer insect proof.  Not a problem at the lakeside, as it happened, but read on a bit.  Campsites with low hedges remind me of suburban gardens.

The green mark indicates 'safe to dive'

Morning, on the road by around 10am and bound for Trebeurden on Brittany’s Granite Rose coast.  Al has wanted to see this for a long time.  Like Cornwall, but pinker, and with the very distinctive spiky-rocks-in-the-water that I have only seen in Brittany.  They are terrifying to navigators, especially at high tide (and the tides are very high) when you just can’t see them.  There are places in Brittany where you can anchor at high water, and at low water find yourself and your boat completely encircled by rocks. 

The first thing we notice about North Brittany is that it is VERY TIDY.  After while I began to crave a throwaway coffee cup or crisp packet, just to demonstrate that somebody was alive in those grey roofed white houses.  The Bretons seem to either have over-strict planning laws or an ant-like consciousness that persuades them that walls must be white, roofs steep and grey tiled and gardens very, very tidy.  Small dormer windows are also popular. There is something crushingly well-ordered about this part of France that seems quite at odds with the Celtic spirit.  On the plus side, there is a sense of the civic mind at work for the common good.  Again, contradictory to the general behaviour of the French that suggests that they don’t give a stuff for Government.  Maybe it’s a matter of local vs central. (Pauline, I can sense you sharpening your comment quill.)

The campsite approach, according to Ms Google, was through a quiet suburban estate, followed by a nauseatingly steep hairpin and a precipitous entrance into the campsite which I can only describe as compact.  There were often 3 pitches where you might expect room for only one, but we squashed in between a caravan-tent-2 car party and a mini-caravan couple.  Much discussion over where our heads would be safest if any of the motors ran amok.  Yes, really.  

But the site was pretty, and best of all, there were steps down to the beach, as wild, seaweedy and as rocky as its location would suggest.  Maybe it was that first evening we explored the beach shack - actually a little above the beach on a rocky-concrete outcrop.  Excellent French french fries from unpeeled potatoes and later in the week we tried their steamed mussels as well.  And they were a source of cold beer and Fanta.  

We found the coastal walk that everyone does, but before that picnicked on a beach all to ourselves.  We found a cafe with a very nice proprietor who didn’t mind us carrying on a business meeting under his awning while he closed his cafe and went for Sunday lunch.  We went to Super-U at least twice - definitely our favourite with better taramasalata than I have had anywhere, Greece included.  
I am aware that my tourism notes are few.  You can PM me if you really want suggestions.

We made a sidetrip to Morlaix to meet Pauline and Chris, who have lived in France for more than a decade and moved to Brittany to be near the coast in Aber Wrac'h.  We had decided on a restaurant. Ms Google unobligingly sent us to the wrong side of the water (Morlaix has a tidal river and a marina with a lock).  Chris apparently spotted us on our false trajectory - he is a car identification genius, since there seemed to be very few Skoda Yetis in France - but failed to flag us down. Pauline kindly phoning us to let us know that we needed to turn around and go back.  How did we ever manage without mobiles?  And now do we REALLY know where we are?  
This meeting represented practically the only one we managed; between Snork Maiden and Covid, there were a few that didn’t materialise.  Maybe more about that in a future blog.  Or maybe not.   

After almost a week on our pitch, there was a bit of a booking confusion.  Maybe our fault, probably theirs.  Upshot - we were a night short.  The proprietor had a bit of a think, and said he had come up with a solution.  We would camp in Mia’s garden.  Mia turned out to be an absent 4 year old.  Her garden was vey nice with a gazebo, a Wendy house and miniature table with benches.  This let little room for the big tent, so we decided to pitch the small one.  No problem, except for THE MOSQITOES.  It was clear as soon as we went to bed that we had a giant sign on the tent saying FREE BLOOD FEAST, ALL WELCOME in mosquito language.  Al, sensibly as it turned out, headed for the car.  I thought a night in the car was pretty unappealing and hunkered down.  I thought I could hide in my bag, but it was very warm.  It’s hard to describe exactly how uncomfortable I was.  It’s the sound as much as the biting.  I thought about Deet, I thought about a sheet, I thought about shouting and weeping.  I didn’t sleep a wink all night.
 

Eventually it started to get light.  I crawled out of the tent, staggered up the steps and woke Al with my sad story.  I managed to doze off in the car for an hour or so  had a couple of cups of tea, packed the car and there we were, ready to head for home.  This was our turnaround point, around 2500 km from home.  

 

 

COMING SOON:   Ferry Good

Where's the Blog gone?

 Blog has migrated for a bit!  I shifted it to this site because I thought it was more secure when the Blogs were very personal and I wanted to keep them tight.  Now I am back to WORDPRESS because (a) I pay to keep the domain name (b) the editor has more facilities and (c) I can publish a draft or final straight from ULYSSES (thank you Terry Bennell for that - I really enjoy using it - recommended for anyone who writes anything).  So, here's the link to the latest (FRANCE 2022):

https://thenavigator.co.uk/uncategorized/france-2022/

P/W Boom2022

 Remember that the generic link is always

https://thenavigator.co.uk/

and you can look at the index for all blogs published there.

Years Are Like Horses: 22 April - 9 May 2022

Music Colours just because I feel like it! Probably a touch of nostalgia

Where are we?
From March 2020 until June 2021 we lived in the small village of Marediana. It’s quite different living here, in Kissamos, 5 minutes walk from the shops, the cardiologist, the  nearest cafe (The ‘Einstein’) practically at the end of our road. 

Actually we don’t go there because of it’s young, unmasked staff and clientele, although I am intrigued by it.  Marediana requires a car trip into the town, with no shops or cafes  nearer than a 45 minute walk, the return all uphill!  But Marediana, despite being in the country has a peace that the outskirts of Kissamos can’t match, with its scattered apartment blocks, broken up by small field, many with chickens and / or goats.

And yes, we can see the sea!

Getting Sorted
With a little help from an ex-bomb disposal handyman we now have some IKEA bookshelves and the box mountain is a little reduced on the lower slopes.  With a little help from Spiros and his son we have also netted the front balcony so it is safe for OurCat.  That gives us more space and ventilation now the weather is getting warmer.    Noticeboard, paintings and more bookshelves soon.  The aim is to gain a guest room / summer sleeping space in a room with A/C.  (There are two units, neither of them in the bedroom.)

 Stuff Revisited / Who Knows where the time goes? 
I have been here (this subject) before, when we packed up to leave Bristol.  The house had already been ‘de-cluttered’ by a lady called Judy, who did an amazing job of thinning out every room so that it looked a lot like a place you could move into and populate with your own ‘stuff’ whilst still looking like a real lived-in home.
Judy filled around 40 boxes that went into a medium sided storage unit in the local Safestore.  Now those boxes have come home to roost here in Crete, and since Judy hasn’t come with them, I am faced with the task of sorting them out - what to keep, what to try to sell….  Or leave by the bins - local method of Freecycling.

Memories are Made of This

Of course you can’t possibly sift through ‘stuff’ without encountering memories popping out of every corner like naughty Proustian ghosts..  The music track is about memory but more significant is the date of the Dean Martin recording - 1955.  This is one of the songs that has lodged in my brain from childhood.  Housewives Choice, 2-Way Family Favourites, Workers’ Playtime - thank you Lord Reith.   
 

I think I can now acknowledge that I am a hoarder.  Not quite pathological, given what we have seen on TV, but really, at least one box of cook books AND 5 folders of clipped recipes.  4 mini disc recorders - because I thought they would be like gold dust after the apocalypse, a lifetime supply of envelopes, and then some, given that in 2 years I have posted about 3 letters from Greece.  A lifetime’s supply of anything is a reminder that life is short.  Years are like horses that you have ridden to get to this place.  Or, if you prefer, the black bin bag and the skip await us all.
 

On a more positive note, Al’s Mexican EP for BMG is netting thousands of plays on Spotify 😃.  Probably earns the price of a ☕️ but that’s not the point.  You can give it a listen here.  Try Baja Sunset.

And how is Al?  
Still feeling the after effects of the op, of course, with but walking and working in a somewhat measured way, finishing up albums for Universal and the BBC.  The studio room is taking shape with some more of the acoustic material going up today and the new speakers doing a good job.  We are planning a major summer trip, so more about this next time.

Shopping in Kissamos (skip this if not interested in food)
Following on from ’stuff’ - we are still careful about going into shops -  it does put a brake on consuming.  One trip usually on a Tuesday morning to the greengrocer first (what a lovely word) then a 2 minute drive to my favourite supermarket (ΣΚΛΑΒΕΝΗΙΤΗΣ).  With any luck and an early start I can get there when there are only a very few cars in the carpark.  The staff are all familiar faces and I suppose they recognise me too.  In the summer shopkeepers assume we are tourists, and of course that’s always a bit annoying.  They speak in English and that makes me want to shout BUT I LIVE HERE!  
The greengrocers’ is a different experience.  He greets me, and his wife often chats to me a bit, in Greek, of course.  I don’t understand everything she says but I can get the general drift, I think.  Because of the Corona years, the opportunity for conversation with Greek people has been really limited.
What do I buy?  Greengrocer’s is easy - standard list of veg and fruit plus whatever looks good that week - horta (covers a variety of ‘wild’ greens, fresh off the farmer’s pick up, bundled into clear plastic sacks), cauliflowers, many varieties of green beans and spinach that looks like it’s just come out of your own allotment.  Organics tend to be few and expensive.  Most of the produce is from Crete, with the rest mainly Greek.  The Cretan organic lettuce is good - lettuces are large and come bundled up with bunches of rocket, fennel and a few spring onions.
The greengrocer’s wife (time I learned her name) treats my purchases tenderly, as if the soft fruits and tomatoes are precious babies.  She is careful to put the heavy stuff at the bottom before the softer things are laid gently on top.  
 
ΣΚΛΑΒΕΝΗΤΗΣ  (Sklavenitis) is a medium-sized supermarket  with a reasonable choice of food, reflecting the Cretan diet - a lot of pasta, pulses, rice, cheese, olives - and a large fruit and veg section, with fresh cheese, meat and fish at the rear of the store.  A few ‘international’ foods - Tabasco, baked beans, mayonnaise, Vegan cheese.   I sometimes pick up more organic veg or fruit at the supermarket - carrots, oranges, avocados, rocket mainly.  But they are usually overpackaged and not very fresh.  Each variety is weighed and bagged by a couple of assistants who  operate the scales and stick tickets on bags, between stacking shelves, putting pineapples through the peeling and cutting machine.  After a few weeks of ‘Οχι plastic’, I now get mine in paper bags or without bags at all, labels stuck to the items themselves.   

Normal Life? 

Maybe this blog is a bit boring because we have returned to 'normal'.  Of course nothing is normal.  Ever, or especially now.  Since we entered the Anthropocene, or at least, The Digitocene, nothing will ever be 'normal' in the sense of repeating the pattern of previous years, or previous generations.  Watching Indie Sage last Friday, one of the panel said wisely that 'normal' was what got us into the Pandemic in the first place.  Could say the same for the global human catastrophe of climate change.

Coming soon: planning the big trip 

Years Are Like Horses: 22 April - 9 May 2022

Music Colours just because I feel like it! Probably a touch of nostalgia

Where are we?
From March 2020 until June 2021 we lived in the small village of Marediana. It’s quite different living here, in Kissamos, 5 minutes walk from the shops, the cardiologist, the  nearest cafe (The ‘Einstein’) practically at the end of our road. 

Actually we don’t go there because of it’s young, unmasked staff and clientele, although I am intrigued by it.  Marediana requires a car trip into the town, with no shops or cafes  nearer than a 45 minute walk, the return all uphill!  But Marediana, despite being in the country has a peace that the outskirts of Kissamos can’t match, with its scattered apartment blocks, broken up by small field, many with chickens and / or goats.

And yes, we can see the sea!

Getting Sorted
With a little help from an ex-bomb disposal handyman we now have some IKEA bookshelves and the box mountain is a little reduced on the lower slopes.  With a little help from Spiros and his son we have also netted the front balcony so it is safe for OurCat.  That gives us more space and ventilation now the weather is getting warmer.    Noticeboard, paintings and more bookshelves soon.  The aim is to gain a guest room / summer sleeping space in a room with A/C.  (There are two units, neither of them in the bedroom.)

 Stuff Revisited / Who Knows where the time goes? 
I have been here (this subject) before, when we packed up to leave Bristol.  The house had already been ‘de-cluttered’ by a lady called Judy, who did an amazing job of thinning out every room so that it looked a lot like a place you could move into and populate with your own ‘stuff’ whilst still looking like a real lived-in home.
Judy filled around 40 boxes that went into a medium sided storage unit in the local Safestore.  Now those boxes have come home to roost here in Crete, and since Judy hasn’t come with them, I am faced with the task of sorting them out - what to keep, what to try to sell….  Or leave by the bins - local method of Freecycling.

Memories are Made of This

Of course you can’t possibly sift through ‘stuff’ without encountering memories popping out of every corner like naughty Proustian ghosts..  The music track is about memory but more significant is the date of the Dean Martin recording - 1955.  This is one of the songs that has lodged in my brain from childhood.  Housewives Choice, 2-Way Family Favourites, Workers’ Playtime - thank you Lord Reith.   
 

I think I can now acknowledge that I am a hoarder.  Not quite pathological, given what we have seen on TV, but really, at least one box of cook books AND 5 folders of clipped recipes.  4 mini disc recorders - because I thought they would be like gold dust after the apocalypse, a lifetime supply of envelopes, and then some, given that in 2 years I have posted about 3 letters from Greece.  A lifetime’s supply of anything is a reminder that life is short.  Years are like horses that you have ridden to get to this place.  Or, if you prefer, the black bin bag and the skip await us all.
 

On a more positive note, Al’s Mexican EP for BMG is netting thousands of plays on Spotify 😃.  Probably earns the price of a ☕️ but that’s not the point.  You can give it a listen here.  Try Baja Sunset.

And how is Al?  
Still feeling the after effects of the op, of course, with but walking and working in a somewhat measured way, finishing up albums for Universal and the BBC.  The studio room is taking shape with some more of the acoustic material going up today and the new speakers doing a good job.  We are planning a major summer trip, so more about this next time.

Shopping in Kissamos (skip this if not interested in food)
Following on from ’stuff’ - we are still careful about going into shops -  it does put a brake on consuming.  One trip usually on a Tuesday morning to the greengrocer first (what a lovely word) then a 2 minute drive to my favourite supermarket (ΣΚΛΑΒΕΝΗΙΤΗΣ).  With any luck and an early start I can get there when there are only a very few cars in the carpark.  The staff are all familiar faces and I suppose they recognise me too.  In the summer shopkeepers assume we are tourists, and of course that’s always a bit annoying.  They speak in English and that makes me want to shout BUT I LIVE HERE!  
The greengrocers’ is a different experience.  He greets me, and his wife often chats to me a bit, in Greek, of course.  I don’t understand everything she says but I can get the general drift, I think.  Because of the Corona years, the opportunity for conversation with Greek people has been really limited.
What do I buy?  Greengrocer’s is easy - standard list of veg and fruit plus whatever looks good that week - horta (covers a variety of ‘wild’ greens, fresh off the farmer’s pick up, bundled into clear plastic sacks), cauliflowers, many varieties of green beans and spinach that looks like it’s just come out of your own allotment.  Organics tend to be few and expensive.  Most of the produce is from Crete, with the rest mainly Greek.  The Cretan organic lettuce is good - lettuces are large and come bundled up with bunches of rocket, fennel and a few spring onions.
The greengrocer’s wife (time I learned her name) treats my purchases tenderly, as if the soft fruits and tomatoes are precious babies.  She is careful to put the heavy stuff at the bottom before the softer things are laid gently on top.  
 
ΣΚΛΑΒΕΝΗΤΗΣ  (Sklavenitis) is a medium-sized supermarket  with a reasonable choice of food, reflecting the Cretan diet - a lot of pasta, pulses, rice, cheese, olives - and a large fruit and veg section, with fresh cheese, meat and fish at the rear of the store.  A few ‘international’ foods - Tabasco, baked beans, mayonnaise, Vegan cheese.   I sometimes pick up more organic veg or fruit at the supermarket - carrots, oranges, avocados, rocket mainly.  But they are usually overpackaged and not very fresh.  Each variety is weighed and bagged by a couple of assistants who  operate the scales and stick tickets on bags, between stacking shelves, putting pineapples through the peeling and cutting machine.  After a few weeks of ‘Οχι plastic’, I now get mine in paper bags or without bags at all, labels stuck to the items themselves.   

Normal Life? 

Maybe this blog is a bit boring because we have returned to 'normal'.  Of course nothing is normal.  Ever, or especially now.  Since we entered the Anthropocene, or at least, The Digitocene, nothing will ever be 'normal' in the sense of repeating the pattern of previous years, or previous generations.  Watching Indie Sage last Friday, one of the panel said wisely that 'normal' was what got us into the Pandemic in the first place.  Could say the same for the global human catastrophe of climate change.

Coming soon: planning the big trip 

Hospital Blog 3: Day by Day

But First: The Octopus Experience

Today (27 March) was sunny and bright so we headed for the sea.  We went to Nopigia beach.  Not really a beach, but a track runs parallel to the sea, with stones and rocks down to the water’s edge.  We walked for about 20 minutes then scrambled down to the water, sheltered by a boulder from the wind.  I took my Crocs and leggings off and paddled in amongst the stones and next to another boulder.  I had been splashing about for a few minutes when I felt something next to my leg.  I did what any reasonable person would do and screamed ‘sea monster’ and splashed to shore.  I think I might have said ‘it’s chasing me’.  It sort of was, so we got a great view of an octopus in shallow water.  Al offered it a finger, and the octopus, for it was such a creature, suckered it.  Also was able to take a few photos before it headed back home.  What an unusual experience though!  When snorkelling we have searched and searched and only had one sighting, then, when we least expected it…
So, Al is getting back to normal life.  Baby steps.

 

 

At the end of the last Hospital Blog we left Al in his high dependency bed, wired and tubed everywhere.  The full weight of this experience is fading now; that first day, I really can’t remember what we said when I first saw him.  I think I told Al about my experience, and he shared his feelings about the ICU (see Hospital Tapes link in the last blog).   Of course I was overwhelmed with panic and relief.  I sat by the bed, occasionally getting out of the way for nurses taking blood, temperature, pressure, changing bags of stuff going in, stuff coming out.  Al mostly dozed, I read, got out of the way, maybe fetched tea…. It really is a blur now.
The nights were quite peculiar.  By now it is Saturday following his operation on the Thursday.  I think it was this first night when there was a panic over Al’s blood pressure, which was low.  At one time there were 4 people around the bed, including a very nice young female doctor who had been called down from the ICU upstairs since there was no ward doctor on our floor.  They worked away on various stats and eventually decided on a blood transfusion.  Half a bag of blood later, he seemed to have responded well, and panic over.  But Al was very uncomfortable.  Everything was uncomfortable.  he had to be on his back, propped up to help breathing. An awkward line into neck for speedy drug administration.  Thingy in arm for transfusions, drugs etc.  The young doctor from upstairs (Samvika, I think, although I may not have the spelling exactly right) struggled to make him more settled, propping him up with a pillow lifting his left side a little.  
Once we were left quiet again, I curled up on the bed-chair with my toes against Al’s arm so that he could wake me if he needed anything by pulling on them.  It worked!
Each of the following days was pretty much the same with bursts of activity, dozing, reading.  I am shocked at how little I can remember.  After the blood pressure panic, I realised that we were still not completely in the clear.  There could be problems in almost any major organ.  
There was quite a lot of ‘hands on help' - adjusting the bed, pillows, sheet etc.  I can remember that Al was very warm.  He was wearing the green post-op gown for the first few days.    Maybe on the Monday I went back to the house, fed and played with Our Cat, grabbed anything useful and headed back to the hospital.  Each day there was one tube or wire less, like a game of Pick up Sticks.
Nights were still difficult, although I was sleeping more.  Al not so much.  He was waking feeling as though he couldn’t breath, like a panic attack.  Only one other bed in the room, occupied by a heart valve chap, probably in his 40s, and his wife also sleeping next to him on a reclining chair.  (These more comfortable than aeroplane seats, at least in Economy.) They were ideal considerate neighbours.  After what seemed like an eternity of disturbed nights (I think maybe 2), Al was given a sleep inducing tablet, and that made things a little better.  

Maybe on Tuesday the nurses asked me where were Al's clothes.  Nobody had told me what he would need post ICU.  He had no pyjamas, but I had brought a bright green dressing gown that we share. I made a dash to the local supermarket to see what I could find in the pyjama department.  Actually, nothing.  Bottoms, no tops, all too small.  I found
- a pale blue cotton thin shirt, very large
- a red plaid brushed cotton shirt, right size
- a set on women’s XL pyjamas, blue with a white pattern that I hoped could pass.  (They didn't.)
The reason for the flurry of activity?  It was time to get out of bed and get dressed.
Al had been sitting in the chair for a while each day, twice after the first day.  Encouraged to spend as much time as possible in vertical mode.  But today was clearly special in terms of milestones to the exit door.  I modified the shirt, cutting off the collar and sleeves, and it worked fine.  Of course, because of the scar, the dressings etc. a front fastening garment was needed.  That and light track bottoms sorted the costume issue.  

On Wednesday it was bath time.  Two jolly nurses gave him a bed bath, including, at Al’s request, a hair wash, ingeniously rigged up using a bin liner as a washbasin.  I will draw a modesty veil over the rest.  Then we were shunted out to a sort of limbo ward where we were pretty much left to get on with ourselves, preparatory to going home.  Al was still getting a little dizzy at this stage, not sleeping well at all, and blood pressure still lower than the surgeon would like.  So instead of being discharged on Thursday, just a week after the operation, he was given an extra day.  By this time I had discovered the coffee shop in the basement, the mini market that sold chocolate digestives and the take away across the road from the hospital that did souvlaki and a couple of vegetarian dishes every day..

This room mate was cheerful but in pain with his kidneys and definitely did not suffer in silence.  Who could blame him for the moans and groans?  Also no wife to help him out, so I added him to the morning cafe  and tiropeta run.  
Nights were still difficult with breathlessness and panic attacks - seemed interminable to Al.  One night I got into bed with him.  A nurse came, took his blood pressure and left again, like a ghost without disturbing us at all. Always a relief when 7 o’clock rolled around and we could start the day. 

On Friday 25 February, one last check from Dr Kiparakis in the morning and we were pretty much free to go.
I packed our bags - fetched the car.  Went to buy a pillow.  Got a Covid test so that I could get back into the hospital.  Al was given a wheelchair for the long trek to the main entrance, and eventually, with a pillow between his chest and the seatbelt, off we went to the little house in Amoudara and a very grateful cat.  
Looking back on it all, it seems amazing that  only 8 days elapsed between the life-saving hours in the operating theatre and leaving the hospital under our own steam.  
The recovery period had begun.

                                            ***
 

It's probably time to bring the blog up to date now, staying in the present.  But thank you for accompanying us through the hospital experience.  Writing has helped me process this, and knowing that you have read it has also made me feel less alone.  Of course some of you respond, and I love that.  But thanks also to the silent readers. 

Hospital Blog 3: Day by Day

But First: The Octopus Experience

Today (27 March) was sunny and bright so we headed for the sea.  We went to Nopigia beach.  Not really a beach, but a track runs parallel to the sea, with stones and rocks down to the water’s edge.  We walked for about 20 minutes then scrambled down to the water, sheltered by a boulder from the wind.  I took my Crocs and leggings off and paddled in amongst the stones and next to another boulder.  I had been splashing about for a few minutes when I felt something next to my leg.  I did what any reasonable person would do and screamed ‘sea monster’ and splashed to shore.  I think I might have said ‘it’s chasing me’.  It sort of was, so we got a great view of an octopus in shallow water.  Al offered it a finger, and the octopus, for it was such a creature, suckered it.  Also was able to take a few photos before it headed back home.  What an unusual experience though!  When snorkelling we have searched and searched and only had one sighting, then, when we least expected it…
So, Al is getting back to normal life.  Baby steps.

 

 

At the end of the last Hospital Blog we left Al in his high dependency bed, wired and tubed everywhere.  The full weight of this experience is fading now; that first day, I really can’t remember what we said when I first saw him.  I think I told Al about my experience, and he shared his feelings about the ICU (see Hospital Tapes link in the last blog).   Of course I was overwhelmed with panic and relief.  I sat by the bed, occasionally getting out of the way for nurses taking blood, temperature, pressure, changing bags of stuff going in, stuff coming out.  Al mostly dozed, I read, got out of the way, maybe fetched tea…. It really is a blur now.
The nights were quite peculiar.  By now it is Saturday following his operation on the Thursday.  I think it was this first night when there was a panic over Al’s blood pressure, which was low.  At one time there were 4 people around the bed, including a very nice young female doctor who had been called down from the ICU upstairs since there was no ward doctor on our floor.  They worked away on various stats and eventually decided on a blood transfusion.  Half a bag of blood later, he seemed to have responded well, and panic over.  But Al was very uncomfortable.  Everything was uncomfortable.  he had to be on his back, propped up to help breathing. An awkward line into neck for speedy drug administration.  Thingy in arm for transfusions, drugs etc.  The young doctor from upstairs (Samvika, I think, although I may not have the spelling exactly right) struggled to make him more settled, propping him up with a pillow lifting his left side a little.  
Once we were left quiet again, I curled up on the bed-chair with my toes against Al’s arm so that he could wake me if he needed anything by pulling on them.  It worked!
Each of the following days was pretty much the same with bursts of activity, dozing, reading.  I am shocked at how little I can remember.  After the blood pressure panic, I realised that we were still not completely in the clear.  There could be problems in almost any major organ.  
There was quite a lot of ‘hands on help' - adjusting the bed, pillows, sheet etc.  I can remember that Al was very warm.  He was wearing the green post-op gown for the first few days.    Maybe on the Monday I went back to the house, fed and played with Our Cat, grabbed anything useful and headed back to the hospital.  Each day there was one tube or wire less, like a game of Pick up Sticks.
Nights were still difficult, although I was sleeping more.  Al not so much.  He was waking feeling as though he couldn’t breath, like a panic attack.  Only one other bed in the room, occupied by a heart valve chap, probably in his 40s, and his wife also sleeping next to him on a reclining chair.  (These more comfortable than aeroplane seats, at least in Economy.) They were ideal considerate neighbours.  After what seemed like an eternity of disturbed nights (I think maybe 2), Al was given a sleep inducing tablet, and that made things a little better.  

Maybe on Tuesday the nurses asked me where were Al's clothes.  Nobody had told me what he would need post ICU.  He had no pyjamas, but I had brought a bright green dressing gown that we share. I made a dash to the local supermarket to see what I could find in the pyjama department.  Actually, nothing.  Bottoms, no tops, all too small.  I found
- a pale blue cotton thin shirt, very large
- a red plaid brushed cotton shirt, right size
- a set on women’s XL pyjamas, blue with a white pattern that I hoped could pass.  (They didn't.)
The reason for the flurry of activity?  It was time to get out of bed and get dressed.
Al had been sitting in the chair for a while each day, twice after the first day.  Encouraged to spend as much time as possible in vertical mode.  But today was clearly special in terms of milestones to the exit door.  I modified the shirt, cutting off the collar and sleeves, and it worked fine.  Of course, because of the scar, the dressings etc. a front fastening garment was needed.  That and light track bottoms sorted the costume issue.  

On Wednesday it was bath time.  Two jolly nurses gave him a bed bath, including, at Al’s request, a hair wash, ingeniously rigged up using a bin liner as a washbasin.  I will draw a modesty veil over the rest.  Then we were shunted out to a sort of limbo ward where we were pretty much left to get on with ourselves, preparatory to going home.  Al was still getting a little dizzy at this stage, not sleeping well at all, and blood pressure still lower than the surgeon would like.  So instead of being discharged on Thursday, just a week after the operation, he was given an extra day.  By this time I had discovered the coffee shop in the basement, the mini market that sold chocolate digestives and the take away across the road from the hospital that did souvlaki and a couple of vegetarian dishes every day..

This room mate was cheerful but in pain with his kidneys and definitely did not suffer in silence.  Who could blame him for the moans and groans?  Also no wife to help him out, so I added him to the morning cafe  and tiropeta run.  
Nights were still difficult with breathlessness and panic attacks - seemed interminable to Al.  One night I got into bed with him.  A nurse came, took his blood pressure and left again, like a ghost without disturbing us at all. Always a relief when 7 o’clock rolled around and we could start the day. 

On Friday 25 February, one last check from Dr Kiparakis in the morning and we were pretty much free to go.
I packed our bags - fetched the car.  Went to buy a pillow.  Got a Covid test so that I could get back into the hospital.  Al was given a wheelchair for the long trek to the main entrance, and eventually, with a pillow between his chest and the seatbelt, off we went to the little house in Amoudara and a very grateful cat.  
Looking back on it all, it seems amazing that  only 8 days elapsed between the life-saving hours in the operating theatre and leaving the hospital under our own steam.  
The recovery period had begun.

                                            ***
 

It's probably time to bring the blog up to date now, staying in the present.  But thank you for accompanying us through the hospital experience.  Writing has helped me process this, and knowing that you have read it has also made me feel less alone.  Of course some of you respond, and I love that.  But thanks also to the silent readers.