Summer in Greece

If you like hot (or, occasionally, extremely hot!), dry weather then the Greek summer might be your dream time. If at the same time you like swimming in clear, cool waters it may be time to dust off the credit card and make a reservation on one of the Greek islands or selected mainland spots/resorts. The world seems to be flocking to Greece, discovering Athens and the ancient sites, savouring the culture or bathing in the sea but, especially, savouring the summer.

It is entirely understandable, in my humble opinion,  as the summer in Greece can be nothing short of magical at prices that can be reasonable, even occasionally cheap, though the higher end hotels and resorts can also manage to be eye-wateringly expensive; your aspirations and needs will determine the destination selected and the capacity of your pocket whether it is at all possible. There's something for almost everyone, all interesting, all worth it in their own way.

Sun, sea, culture and relaxation form an enticing package. In Greece this is not a slick, over-produced experience with the exception of a few fashionable destinations. There are places that still feel as if they are just being discovered, where the local colour is, in fact, where the facilities are sometimes less worldly but more authentic than what half a century of intense tourist development can lead to. Plenty of untrodden, or certainly less trodden, paths still await the adventurous and respectful visitor, away from the crowds, the groups, the inebriated.

There is great fun to be had in island hopping, especially off the busiest routes, with ships little and large plying their trade all year round, though with decreasing frequency and less reliability in the quieter times. Spring and autumn, with temperatures at more moderate levels and the sea relatively calm, can be a wonderful time to prance around. Granted, not everywhere is awaiting visitors with open arms and some of the hostelries may either not be open or have limited capacity, but that makes it even more of an adventure. And locals will generally take the right kind of visitor to their hearts, going out of their way to welcome those arriving in peace and with respect.

For the brave driving around Greece can be a fantastic experience also, and I will dedicate another post to that. While traditionally the average Greek driver is high on enthusiasm and low on skill, with observance of the rules of the road a relatively low priority, recent years have brought significant improvements. The road network too is being constantly upgraded, modernised and expanded, often with impressive results, making it easy to explore this enchanting, mountainous oddity of a country.

I adore the Greek summer and all that goes with it - yes, even the intense heat - but it is well worth remembering that it can also be dangerous: from the perils of injudicious sunbathing, which can turn one's body a vivid lobster red colour in a couple of hours, to the very real life threatening dehydration that can come about if wandering around without certain precautions. So approach it respectfully, enjoy it fully but sensibly, immerse yourself in it intelligently and the Greek summer will provide you with more than you can imagine. From mountaintops to secluded beaches and places in between it can be the experience of a lifetime.

Little wisdom, plenty of wine, much to discuss...

 Whatever criticism you may have concerning my long absence, dear reader, you would be justified in expressing it, though hopefully in a polite and constructive manner. My excuse is simple: though I have been as opinionated as ever I simply lacked inspiration in expressing said thoughts. Life has been smothering for many reasons, leaving me unable to vocalise all I wanted to say in my normal manner... So I just shut up!

But I'm back, ready, willing and able (I hope!) to keep you informed and entertained once again. There is plenty to observe, discuss and criticise in the world today and, while our opinions on what is taking place may vary, we all have thoughts and expressed or unexpressed observations.

World events have given us plenty of food for thought with, perhaps, the Middle East leading the way. Not only have the horrific events in and around Israel, showing human behaviour at its worst in so many ways, but the recent Syria developments overthrowing decades of tyranny but potentially dragging the country backwards into a theocratic, brutal and unenlightened existence. Further south and to the east in Yemen there is further unrest, directly affecting shipping traffic in the area and thus having an impact on our daily lives wherever in the world we reside.

The main developments that I am concerned about are in the USA, so far away from my European domicile but nevertheless affecting the whole world. The voters there have decided to reelect Donald Trump as President despite his many manifest failings; as the comeback kid he seems intent in upsetting not only the way the political system has operated in the USA since its creation, but also the current world order, established alliances etc. Nothing in his past performances leaves us confident that he actually has a solid understanding of how anything works and that he has well thought-out plans on how to bring about real, positive change anywhere. While the US is potentially the main beneficiary of his benevolence and creativity, the rest of the world will also be affected to a lesser or greater degree.

Russia is, of course, also a concern, with President (Dictator in all but name...) Putin seemingly intent on impressing the rest of the world with his country's might both militarily and economically, but achieving decidedly mixed results. It is unclear how he will seek to mitigate his lack of success, but I sincerely hope that as the dead mount up he does not resort to greater aggression. I fail to comprehend how Russia with all its natural resources cannot afford its normal citizens an adequate standard of living, while supplying the world with robber barons living the high life in their mega yachts. President Putin would have cemented his place in history if he had achieved internal balance and happiness rather than pursuing dreams of empire, in my opinion.

The past summer highlighted some of the problems of Global Climate Change, ultimately global warming, which is upsetting the sensitive balances of local microclimates with potentially devastating results. Long droughts, exceptionally heavy rainfall and prolonged periods of very high temperatures have caused problems in many parts of the world but it is the longterm effects that are the most worrying in both local and global terms. Current form suggests that things will only get worse, making me grateful not to be in the first flush of youth.

Still, I'm not quite ready to pop my clogs so you'll have to put up with my musings for some time. Regularly!

National Health Service in Greece

Recently I had opportunity to experience the Greek National Health Service in action in Athens, at the level available to every citizen, and despite some hardship I was mightily impressed. This was somewhat unexpected...

Let me explain: I, like most Greek residents, have found through long experience -yes, I'm getting on a bit now- that most contacts with the state mechanism in whatever form is generally frustrating and unrewarding, ending in disappointment if not anger. Most state employees, secure from dismissal or, sometimes, even evaluation, often show complete indifference to their fellow citizens needs and requests, making life extremely difficult. Loads of bureaucratic procedures exist to keep the general populace in their place and to insulate, empower and protect the bureaucrats; anyone who has had to face the system will have stories, including horror stories, to tell. This leads most everyone to approach the system with apprehension, or even loathing.

Well, on an overseas visit over Christmas (the United Kingdom if you must know, nosey parkers...) I managed to contract one of the many forms of COVID, diagnosed on my return to Athens. This was treated according to prevailing advice and went away fairly quickly and painlessly, save for a bit of a cough with some sputum which sometimes had a bright light green colour. This I knew from previous experience and doctor's advice to be a bad sign, a sign of infection that could have serious consequences for my sensitive respiratory system. Antibiotics were needed pronto, to put a stop to this and to get a prescription I needed to go to a public hospital to be examined and assessed; I was assured this was dead easy.

A few days later I walked across to SOTIRIA (literal meaning: salvation) hospital, about a mile from where I'm currently living, as not only was it the nearest but also specialised in respiratory ailments. Unfortunately I made a crucial mistake and did not check its status as far a s being the duty hospital (it was!), so found queues in the emergency department. Still, my little priority ticket claimed that I had something like a thirty-five minute waiting time, which seemed not unreasonable. So I stayed and waited, and waited some more, and then some; intensely frustrated, I considered leaving after two hours but stayed on, telling myself to be patient. Emergency cases kept arriving on stretchers or otherwise, desperately ill people needing immediate care and pushing non-urgent cases like mine down the list, something I found completely understandable if frustrating; the same could not be said of some of the other waiting people, many of whom kept complaining bitterly, often in a rude manner, to the obviously inundated and overworked staff. I kept my mouth shut, though I desperately wanted to have a go at the moaners, and waited. It was five hours from the time of my arrival before I was seen.

I had expected a cursory examination, with a prescription speedily dispensed to get me out of the way; nothing could have been further from the truth. I was given a full and detailed examination, including blood tests, in an efficient and courteous manner by people clearly overworked and under pressure but not shirking their duties, nor losing their patience and professionalism. There was even evidence of a sense of humour, something not always evident in Greek public facilities, and plenty of understanding.

Sure, I had to wait a further two and a half hours before my results were ready to take away, so overall I ended up having spent over eight hours in this not especially pleasant and certainly stressful environment, but I walked away tired, yes, but surprised, pleased and mightily impressed. The men and women I witnessed manning (personning?) the front line were dedicated, efficient, willing, capable and civil in the face of serious, sustained pressure. They operated at a level equivalent to any western country even though the Greek economic meltdown of a few years ago left them under-equipped and, possibly, under-staffed. So for all I witnessed I salute, congratulate and thank them.

Yet not everything is perfect, or even good. The bureaucracy that supposedly underpins and supports the system is convoluted, inefficient, occasionally self-serving, self-satisfied and lazy, letting down everyone concerned, patients included. Admittedly they often have to work under pressure, but still... There is a lot of work to be done before this system can operate like a well-oiled machine, with this perhaps easier said than done. But surely this is worth striving for, as it will benefit everyone involved. And the Government of the day, irrespective of political affiliations, should aim to provide these good people with the means to continue improving the good work they so clearly do.

Finally I must congratulate myself, as I don't see you, dear reader, rushing to so do... After all, while not known for my patience and stoicism, I managed to spend nearly nine hours in a far from pleasant hospital environment quietly and politely waiting as directed, without strangling or even wishing to strangle a single person. Or no more than a dozen or so of my fellow patients... A veritable candidate for sainthood, wouldn't you say?

More than brothers

I am aware that there are people who go through life without close friends and, I must say, I do not understand it at all. As the more devoted amongst you know, I have been blessed with many good friends in my life, people who have enriched my existence immeasurably and have made me feel infinitely wealthy and blessed. Every one of my friends has added something to my life in their own way.

But here I need to tell you a story involving  a small group of friends that has an extra special position in my life and affections:

Once upon a time many years ago a little blond boy entered the world, probably screaming and maybe even cursing, though he was generally sunny natured. About a year or so later he was introduced to a little boy a year older than himself, whose parents were friends with his lot. Over time they were brought together by their parents to play usually at the same time as the parents socialised, but not living next door to one another this was not an everyday occasion. Nevertheless their friendship grew and grew, was further tested but also strengthened during joint family summer holidays, and developed further with the passing of time.

The original little boy, by now six years old, left to live in the USA for a year, leaving his by now well-established friend behind but without forgetting him. On his return about a year later the two little boys took up where they left off, more or less, getting together quite often.

On his return from the USA the little blond boy, by now not quite so little, had what turned out to be a pleasant surprise in his neighbourhood - two new boys, brothers, just a bit older than him - had moved in more or less next door, so were instantly available potential playmates and possible friends. And friends they, indeed, became, to the point that late last year they celebrated sixty years of friendship! Shortly thereafter they were introduced to the blond boy's other friend, soon becoming firm friends with him also. The young boys not only played together regularly, including football, but became something of a unit, hanging around together at every available opportunity despite various ups and downs in their lives. Their little unit even acquired a name, which to this day describes the individuals involved but which must remain secret.

The blond boy was fortunate to have some spare space in his family's garage, with this becoming a base for the boys, a sort of clubhouse for their activities, this lasting throughout most of their teenage years. To the despair of some of the long-suffering neighbours one of their activities was a pop group, generating plenty of noise, which thankfully developed from the original cacophony to a loud but accomplished modern sound. Three of the four provided musical services (guitar, bass guitar, drums) while the fourth member, less keen on performing, remained as support staff. With parties and local events benefitting from their abilities, the musical activity lasted for maybe three years all told. All sorts of other adventures also ensued, especially as the eldest boy by now had a driver's licence and an ageing Austin Cambridge car available to him!

Life does not follow our self-penned scripts, alas, and the four boys experienced some serious ups -and even more serious- downs over the next few years. While the time spent together varied, their bond was tested but remained strong, and so it has remained despite many changes in their lives including living in a different country, weddings, funerals, children, financial triumphs and catastrophes. They have remained firm friends throughout, supporting each other in times of need and enjoying the shared history that unites them to this day, irrespective of how often they meet. And all this time there have been no fallings out, no periods of unpleasantness, no estrangement; to this day if one of the four asks one of the others for help with something the response is always positive within the realistic possibilities available.

From being the little blond boy, and you probably guessed that was me,  I am now a bald, ageing man grateful for the blessing that is my friendship with these three individuals. And how we feel about each other can best be summed up by the response of one of the four when thanked by the sister of one of the others for helping with a bureaucratic problem her brother had, quote: 'I would do anything within my power for him.'

Eternal beloved friends 'baked in the oven of life' so to speak, so much more than brothers, to you as long as I live and breathe I will be loyal and grateful.

Regression brings disappointment, and death

 As a young child growing up a few years after the Second World War I had to face the suffocating result, strangely named the Cold War; there was sadness, enmity and mutual suspicion, East versus West, freedom versus oppression, but also plenty of optimism that one day we would overcome all that. We, mostly, where eagerly looking forward to the day when hate would be consigned to the bin of history and all people could bask in the warmth of freedom.

The ultimate symbol of the oppressiveness of that era, the Berlin Wall, came down amid loud cheering from the assembled crowds on the 9th of November 1989; or bits of the wall came down that day, with lots more in the days and months following. I remember watching the events on television at home in London and feeling blessed to see this, freedom overcoming oppression, light defeating darkness. Hearing the song 'Wind of Change' still brings a tear to my eye, especially the verse "where the children of tomorrow dream away in the wind of change", because I lived some of that sentiment even if, by then, I was no longer a child.

Some of the tears in the last twenty years have been shed for how we have betrayed those children of tomorrow, how most of the love overflowing that day dried up and became cynicism, how nationalism and materialism overcame all fraternal sentiment. But sad as all that has been, nothing can equal the sadness of what is currently becoming the new status quo, with Russia and its 'charismatic' leader initiating and executing its appalling invasion of Ukraine based of excuses that make the Iraq invasion look like the best documented, thus justified, military intervention in history after the Trojan War. We have regressed to something from the Cold War era, with a dash of WW2 thrown in for good measure.

Death is not reversible, with loads of bodies adorning our tv screens daily, Ukrainian civilians in shocking numbers but numerous young Russian soldiers also. All these people are dead, irreversibly, for reasons I am unable to fathom. Of course loads of theories abound, none of which to my mind adequately justifies the death and destruction. There is no rewind button, no glory, just pointless brutality and many dead bodies.

It may be that we human beings are unable to live together in harmony for long periods of time, that sooner or later we cherish our neighbour's possessions or feel we need to display our superior strength to anyone convenient. It is sobering thought, even more so for the younger generations whose life stretches ahead of them, tantalisingly promising. For older creatures such as myself the dreadful realisation dawns that our life, which not that long ago was full of optimism for humankind, will fizzle out in the sour miasma of bitter disappointment.

Let's hope at least that we won't see World War Three.

English football and Marcus Rashford

English football has had some of its best - and worst - moments in the last few weeks, during Euro 2020 which has happened thanks to the Covid pandemic during 2021. Let me elaborate.

Anyone who knows anything about football - American football fans look away now - knows that the standards of the game are incredibly high in England, which happens to be its birthplace, with teams at all levels being hugely competitive. English teams have been extremely competitive and very successful in international competitions for many, many years; not so the National team, which has only won one major trophy and that on home soil - the 1966 World Cup, wine in thrilling fashion. This success has never been repeated, despite some great teams/players/managers being involved, for reasons not known or understood.

Roll around Euro 2020, a young unheralded English team and an untested manager on, essentially, his first managerial position - a recipe for disaster, one might think, and I confess to have had my doubts as to their potential. I was, of course, spectacularly wrong, with the England team showing great character and resilience while fighting their way to the final, convincingly beating their old Nemesis (Germany) along the way. Admittedly, there was little great football to see along the way as this young side struggled to fuse and fully express their talents, but there were sparks of greatness showing the potential, coupled with a convincing fighting spirit. And they reached the edge of greatness, only to fail in the penalty shootout against Italy in the final but still the most successful English team since 1966.

Probably the most spectacular penalty miss was by Marcus Rashford, the Manchester United player who has shown great maturity in his career to date on and off the pitch. A supremely talented young man, unfailingly polite and modest in behaviour, a player set to star in football both home and abroad for years to come. Marcus badly fluffed his penalty, hitting the post, while he had already sent the opposing keeper the wrong way - a mistake by a young man, almost still a kid, at an extremely stressful time and for which he was clearly devastated.

Out came the haters, ready to heap abuse on him, because Marcus is a young black man. To make matters worse, all three players (Marcus Rashford, Jadon Sancho, Bukayo Saka) who were unsuccessful in their penalty kicks were black, fuelling the imaginations and reaction of racists in England and elsewhere, producing despicable outbursts on the internet and even vandalism of a Rashford mural somewhere. Why? What were people thinking? These are hugely talented youngsters who are part of the future of English football and will surely bring trophies home soon - what will the haters say then?

Marcus Rashford issued a powerful, dignified, modest statement in response that shows, once again, the character of the man. My admiration for this young man has grown since his penalty miss; despite his youth he is mature, caring, articulate and a supremely talented footballer who will reward his team and his country hugely over the coming years. His skin colour is clearly an irrelevance, his quality as an athlete and a human being is not!

Lots of funerals, no weddings...

 Pass a certain age and the less than ideal fact is that one attends or hears of far more sad events, illnesses and deaths than joyous celebrations; that's just a fact of life, the way it is, tough. So funerals are common, weddings extremely rare, alas.

It was to another funeral that I made my way to this morning, luckily taking place at the local church, that of an older male relative. Though he and I were never friends as well as relatives, I felt the need to represent my branch of the family and show my face to his children, one of whom I am relatively close to. The price to pay is to endure the liturgy that the Greek Orthodox Church deems appropriate for deceased individuals which, while not excessively long is, to an irreligious but Greek Orthodox born person like me, a bit of an ordeal.

It is an ordeal not only because, depending on the 'package' agreed with the priests conducting the service, things may drone on and on, rich in readings, chanting and platitude, but also because it is full of impressive but meaningless verbiage to indicate constancy and eternity. I mean, really, who is going to be around to remember me fifty or a hundred years after I kick the bucket, never mind centuries later... Yet the chant goes: 'may his/her memory be eternal' - a joke, a silly little joke in bad taste.

Humankind has been on this Earth for a very short time, relatively speaking, for only a few thousand years, and Christianity for an even shorter time, 2021 years to be precise, yet it loves to talk about worship and remembering every Tom, Dick or Harriet centuries from now. And it does so on and on, on and on, on and on during a funeral service, pretending whoever has just died is of deep significance, to be remembered forever; we're not and we won't be, so please can we get on with the blinking service so the dead person can go to their grave or whatever forthwith, and I can go home/cafe/drinking sooner rather than later.

I have never been married and now may never have the joy of experiencing this particular ritual as a participant, so my only experience of weddings is as a guest, impatiently eyeing up the female section of the congregation for the reception later. The thought of nice food, drink and, perhaps, some attractive female company immediately after helps me through the religious gobbledegook; no such luck at funerals. And at my age there are now many funerals - with my own also on the horizon, though hopefully not quite yet -  and hardly any weddings.

And don't worry duckies, I'll make sure my own funeral is brief and to the point - he's dead, get over it and get on with life, thanks - so you won't be bitching about it to your friends or on some blog.

Ateni beach, Andros island, Greece

This should have appeared last summer, but did not; appearing today, it gives off a whiff of summer and what we are missing, but also what we are looking forward to in 'a glass half full' sort of world... Enjoy:

My loyal reader knows well that there is a beach on the island of Andros that I have a soft spot for, even more than for St. Peter's Beach, my ever pleasing consistent standard go-to place with bar called Funky Donkey -and this beach is called Ateni. I love this place primarily because, despite having a great little beach bar with sun loungers, umbrellas and drinks/snacks, it has the feeling of an unspoilt, undeveloped, natural place. Granted, it is open to the northerly winds that cool/batter the island for most of July and August, sometimes making the bay at Ateni an angry cauldron of water; waves can regularly make swimming a bit of an adventure. And the sea, during these windy days, seems eager to deposit loads of debris of all descriptions - though mainly assorted plastics from as far afield as Turkey - on the lovely sandy beach.

As unpleasant as these things sound, they detract little from the amazing overall experience offered by the place. The clean air, the feeling of being close to nature, the peace and quiet, they're all supplemented by an impeccable little beach bar, run by the Glynos family and their assistants/employees, that has won me over not just by the care they put into everything they do and the food they serve, but also the unfailing politeness and friendly service that is consistently offered. This year, despite the problems offered by the pandemic and substantial loss of business, they were all out there again looking after everybody while wearing the requisite equipment (masks etc.) and immediately utilising the necessary cleaning materials whenever there was a need, quickly and efficiently.Getting in and out of the water is slightly tricky at Ateni, as there is a rocky ledge running along most of the length of the beach. This is just an inconvenience and easily overcome with a bit of care, so it looks more tricky than it actually is and, once you are past it the water is just fantastic, clear and cool. There is a tremendous feel when splashing about in the middle of the bay surrounded by nature, with few sights, sounds and smells of the modern world intruding. There is peace and quiet here, allowing full enjoyment of the sea yet with the modern but unobtrusive facilities of the Ateni Beach Bar only minutes away.

The drinks and food available are, for a little family-run place on a beach somewhat off the beaten track, of good to excellent quality and represent a fairly comprehensive offering, for which they get great and well-deserved reviews. But in this strange year, dominated as it has been by Covid-19 and the measures taken to limit its spread, the quality at Ateni has just not been enough to ensure a sufficient level of business to ensure survival. Still they smile, welcoming repeat and new customers alike with the same warmth, efficiency and humility; hopefully enough of us will appreciate their qualities to enable them to survive, to be there next year, to continue enhancing this beautiful location.

Don't take my word for the attributes of the place - a pair of swans were daily visitors, enjoying the hospitality of the beach bar with us but, unlike us, they did not have to pay

for sunbeds, parasols or food.

Magical Ateni, probably my favourite beach - and beach bar - on Andros; it really is that good!

Kos - Part 1

I have spent many of my childhood summer holidays on the Greek island of Kos, part of the Dodecanese island group and, until 1947 under Italian rule. We chose Kos - well, I didn't, my parents did, together with relatives and friends - in the mid-1960s for two main reasons:
1. Kos, together with the other Dodecanese islands, were incredibly cheap as they were still in a transitional taxation period from Italian to Greek rule, a massive benefit for our financially hard-pressed families. This allowed us to spend more time on holiday without breaking the budget, with little terrors such as myself unable to spend more than a few drachmas a day no matter how foolish our spending.
2. There were few motor vehicles on Kos at the time but many, many bicycles, so that we could be allowed to roam hither and thither without much risk of incurring bodily injuries of any serious nature, other than minor scrapes from the occasional fall.

The tourist industry at the time was in its infancy, with Greece still recovering from World War 2 and its aftermath; there were a few rooms to let and a handful of rickety hotels, offering little more than a place to sleep that was very basic indeed. The first small hotel we stayed in - there were no big hotels on the island at the time - was near the sea, in a pretty but decrepit italianate building and had the name of a wind. To describe it as basic is kind, but at the age of 10 I couldn't care less, even when the occasional wandering cockroach was factored in to the equation - Kos was an adventure!

The first day we arrived, I and my oldest childhood friend LJ (Little John) set out to explore the place and, being young and football mad, we found the local football stadium and went to investigate what was what. While at the stadium we met a smiling young local boy, probably a bit older than us, called Hippocrates; he became our first local friend and helped us to meet several other local boys so that we could all play football together. We became so close to our new friends that, when the locals would play football against the holidaymakers team we were always on the locals side.

Childhood friendships, especially holiday ones, often disappear and fade with the passage of time and when distance emerges; sometimes you simply stop visiting a certain place and, as a consequence, all your local connections weaken and eventually cease to exist. So to a certain extent happened with LJ, me and our friends in Kos - life just separated us... until about 15 years ago, when I receive a telephone call from a TV program in Greece whose reason for existing was to reconnect people who for some reason had lost touch.

Not only did I get to go on television again - I had some appearances in my racing driver days - but the person looking for me was an old friend from Kos who had emigrated to the United States but was now back. The show was intriguing, emotional and gave me a prod to try and reconnect with the island where I had spent so many happy times but, assuming they were still around, with some of the friends who had made my youthful holidays so special. A few years later I took an early morning flight and spent three days searching around Kos town for my old friends.

Kos town was changed, sure, but not so as to be unrecognisable; it was still, at least in parts, picturesque and beautiful. Even more beautiful was the fact that I managed to find Hippocrates and really reconnect, leading to meeting some of the others. The rest, dear reader, is history, some of which you will read in the next post about Kos!

Coronavirus - The new 'Normal'

All over the world countries are starting to lift their restrictions imposed on their citizens and visitors in order to combat the coronavirus named Covid-19 or, according to the orange person, the Chinese virus. There appears to be no dispute at present that the virus originates from China, incidentally, but there also does not appear to be any independent fact that can confirm it was created and allowed to spread on purpose by the Chinese.

As you know, dear reader, I have been confined 'to barracks' in Greece, not allowed to pursue my normal activities; then again, so was everyone else, with the Greek government scoring a major success with its early, strict lockdown - not that I appreciated it at the time. The early lockdown has led to low infection and casualty figures and, therefore, early easing of the measures to allow the economy - and society in general - to breathe and start functioning again. Time will allow us to judge the measures taken properly, but saving lives can never be a bad thing, methinks.

Cafes, shops and restaurants are now fully open with restrictions in place as to the numbers of customers, distances and protective equipment that is mandatory. The warm weather of the arriving Greek summer is helping everyone feel better, though there is unease at the risks of undoing  achieved successes by trying to rush too soon back to the status quo. Already I've witnessed restrictions ignored on buses, bars and cafes, albeit by and large in a modest way, but who knows what may follow. The old folks considered more at risk - and I am on the basis of age, if not fitness, part of that demographic - seemed more concerned/frightened than the youngsters, which is probably fair enough.

Of course there are people up in arms about both sides of the equation - some are furious that any restrictions still exist, as the economy is struggling, with some businesses on the verge of collapse. Some of these people even consider the initial imposition of restrictions ill-advised, despite numbers seeming to clearly support the measures, with conflicting theories circulating on the internet stirring the passions. Conspiracy theorists are in overdrive, even ascribing to modest, unassuming Mr. Tsiodras, Greece's chief medical advisor/expert on the pandemic, political aspirations, general ambitions and personal gain issues in his handling of things, despite the fact that he consistently shied away from excess personal publicity.

Don't get me wrong, dear reader, I 'love' conspiracy theories and the - mostly - 'insightful' idiots who support them, as they make me feel I possess some small degree of intelligence denied to these unfortunate creatures; I cannot deny, however, that they can be extremely harmful to society as they spread their poison around and sow suspicion, dissent, even hate. I am intrigued at how these people find conspiracies everywhere, despite the fact that in today's connected world information can circle the globe in seconds, with very little hidden. In the 1970s, when information was much harder to come by, there were many films made about conspiracy theories - how 'they', unseen and all-powerful industrialists/conspirators,  ruled the world and controlled everything - but the shadowy figures have gone away, consigned to the dustbins of history to make room for new candidates like George Soros and Bill Gates. Whatever makes you happy...

In the meantime I have to get used to being served at cafes by people who look more like pirates or stick-up men, as small price to pay, I suppose, for keeping the Covid-19 virus away from the general populace and those most at risk. Strange times, indeed, and getting stranger every day.

A coronavirus diary of sorts

Unless you've been on a desert island somewhere with no information or media access of any sort you will be familiar with the present strain of  coronavirus, which brings about an illness called Covid-19. This virus, highly contagious, has been busy spreading all around the world, infecting and  killing people here, there and everywhere; it is not an exaggeration to say that it is currently changing the face of the world.

Since the outbreak has started I have been more or less confined to Athens (Greece, you silly sausage, not Ohio, Georgia or anywhere else, thankfully given the Covid-19 events in the USA) and environs, witnessing the shutting down of most social life all around me as the government tries to halt the march of Covid-19. Boredom is a major factor in the life of people here, people who are normally used to going out most of the time, whether to cafes in the morning, restaurants of one description or other later and bars at the end of most days. This is a society where, generally, staying in is not the norm and is often rather frowned upon; even in the days of deep financial crisis people found a few pennies and went out, to cheap souvlaki places and rather basic tavernas, maybe, but out nevertheless.

Yet the rebellious Greeks have largely complied with their Government's policy and requests, largely out of fear I think, making the country a bit of a star in the way it has handled this not only on a European but a Worldwide basis - Greek casualties directly attributable to Covid-19 have only recently passed the one hundred mark, with the thing seemingly under control. For once the 'naughty child' is setting a good example for others, something I find very satisfying.

As you've gathered by now, dear reader, this is nothing like a diary - I've never kept one in my life, actually - but more of an essay, an analysis without much detail, a descriptive, low-key rant. Fear not, for what follows is the real thing, descriptive, tight, expressive:

I wake up late with little to do other than eat some oranges for, I suppose, brunch.
Do little other than wade through emails and catch up on news on the computer, especially on the international activities of the coronavirus.
Go for a two hours exercise/walk, usually with a friend, returning late afternoon.
Eat something,
More computer stuff, applying to the odd job, or newspaper/sudoku/crossword.
Eat again.
Drink some wine.
Eat some more.
Drink some more.
Watch some television.
Go to bed, read or do puzzles, then sleep.
Get up the next day and repeat.

Enough diary nonsense, though. the Greek Prime Minister is this evening to make important announcements about gradually reopening the economy in a phased way, so all my thoughts above are probably irrelevant. This, I must confess, makes me upset, even if the rest of society is pleased and relieved. What is my world going to be like now? Will I be able to go out for a coffee again, without having to walk ten miles in the process in order to be permitted to wander about? Will I have to see my friends again on a regular basis?

Ooof! It's enough to make me write a proper diary...

China - to trust or not to trust?

We are strange creatures indeed, we westerners, suddenly faced with a world health crisis probably originating in China. Until yesterday China was a good place, providing us with all sorts of useful products, many developed and designed by us, at prices we could only dream of if we were to produce them ourselves. So what if the people producing our shit - I use the word loosely - were only allowed to sleep for only a few hours a day and were obliged to live a slave-like existence; we were happy to benefit, closed our eyes and ears and allowed life to continue to our benefit.

Then coronavirus appeared, the one leading to Covid-19 and, possibly, a painful death for anyone contracting it. China seems to be where it first appeared - Wuhan specifically - and from there it spread like fire all over the globe, infecting people left, right and centre. Much speculation on the origins has occurred all over, with conspiracy theories blaming China, the US or whomever, but China has always figured as the main culprit, unwittingly or not - was it a result of little Chinamen happily munching an infected bat or two over a cup of rice wine or an escapee from a secretive virus-creating laboratory residing in Wuhan?

Yes, the official China reacted badly initially, underestimating the potential problem and trying to hide things under a veil of silence; totalitarian regimes work like that to protect their interests, unsurprisingly. Yes, it has been proven to have been a misguided, wrong move that had disastrous consequences, but then turned around and worked wonders by instituting draconian restrictive measures and generally tackling the virus head-on, with so far seemingly remarkable results.

Now we in the West have started attacking China as dishonest and dishonourable, claiming not only that they hid things at the outset but that they are lying through their teeth now, providing false numbers relevant to Covid-19 etc. Furthermore, we are accusing China of using the provision of their assistance in this general time of need for empire building and as a benefit to their long-term plans.

There is a wonderful book by Peter Frankopan, The New Silk Roads, that analyses and tackles these issues both in detail and in context, so they should come as no surprise for they are not new, but have been going on for some time now. Why are we acting surprised? Do we find it convenient? It is both stupid and untimely to analyse China's role in this matter and in this way, especially given the lack of proof. Given the fact that we are still grappling with this disease without a hint of and end or a cure, nor indeed specific analyses of the precise origins of this disaster, is in not best to wait until all is known before apportioning blame?

Now is not the time for recriminations, especially given the interdependence within most of the world. Much of the Western world now wagging fingers in China's face are also largely dependent on China's productive capabilities, is that not a recipe for disaster? What about fairness, which the Western world used selectively in years gone by to abuse not only China but large parts of the rest of the globe. China may well be (or not) to blame for everything to do with this, but prove it we must before engaging in righteous polemics and attacking hither and thither. Whether we like it or not we live in an interconnected world, largely of our creation, that needs to be managed sensibly. Neither we, nor anyone else, can send the gunboats in anymore - empires belong to the past and stay there they must; proper procedures for establishing fault must be followed.

Jaw-jaw must prevail, for war-war, even of the commercial kind, will lead to destruction and mutual loss. It should be seen as a last resort, not an act of whim and folly.

Liar, liar, pants on fire?

Well, what can I, what can anyone, indeed, say about the person 'leading' the Free World, the current President of the United States, Mr. Donald J. Trump? And, furthermore, what can anyone say of his supporters, the people who even now refuse to face facts while their country is being ravaged by an epidemic that had been signposted months ago. The United States of America is fast becoming a bad, bad joke, killing its people and undermining its world status.

Let me make some things clear so I am not misunderstood: I am - and always have been - an Americanophile, having lived in the States in the early 1960s and gone to first grade in an American school. Furthermore, a lot of my schooling has been spent in American or American-related institutions, where I have been able to appreciate many great things to do with American culture - yes, fellow euro-snobs, there is such a thing, albeit much younger than most of ours. And I have had both American relatives and friends, all wonderful people who have enriched my life considerably, many of whom are no longer with us. My criticism of this often wonderful country and its equally often wonderful people stems from the facts, untainted by political bias - I am not, have never been and never will be a socialist, left leaning or a communist - and coloured only by disappointment.

American Presidents used to be educated, well-spoken, worldly figures who by and large grasped that the US had a role to play in the world due to its size, military might and commercial power and aspirations, a de facto major world power on the side of freedom (free trade especially) and democracy. At times their behaviour was less than laudable both as individuals and as statesmen, often allowing their country to indulge in despicable, even criminal, behaviour by interfering in the politics of other countries sometimes for political (usually anti-communist in the Cold War era) or economic reasons, occasionally both. Their intentions were not always - but sometimes were - altruistic, even when expanding or reinforcing their sphere of influence.

Today, led (I use the term loosely) by a man who is ignorant of world history, doesn't listen to advisors/briefings/specialists and gets his world views solely from watching his favourite TV channels, America is becoming not only a laughing stock but an enemy to all and sundry. A spoiled, selfish and self-absorbed man, he is passing his code of conduct on to 'his' nation, making it behave like a bully. Yet such seems to be the ignorance and/or moral bankruptcy of his supporters that he is admired for things that leave the rest of the world shaking their heads in disbelief and, like me, in disappointment. And everyone daring to criticise or speak a word against him is labelled a liar (Ha!), a lefty, a hoaxer, a fraud...

In this Covid-19 crisis President Trump has shown the extent of his ignorance, indecision and inability to listen to experts and comprehend facts, especially if these facts are not convenient for him and his interests. This will result in a significant number of American lives being lost as a direct consequence, maybe even tens of thousands, yet his adoring fans still applaud him and his lies - and it is not inconceivable that he could win the next election. It is truly unbelievable and extremely dangerous to the USA, to its people, to the rest of the world and americanophiles like me.

But perhaps sanity will eventually prevail. What do you think, dear reader?

How was the town jester allowed to become King?

Let's face it, a manifest idiot, one who is supremely dishonest and with the intellectual capacity of a pea, in times gone by would have had limited opportunities, probably justly so. If he was mildly amusing - think bing-bong, bing-bong - he may have been elevated to a level where he would be allowed to amuse the local dignitaries and, if he was good at that, he may have reached the pinnacle of his 'career' by becoming the  town jester, or a jester of some other form. Conversely, if he was found to be less than amusing, especially if those he was supposed to entertain were powerful and didn't take to him, he may have had to witness his head and his body swiftly parting company.

Today's is a different society, with a much more fluid structure, where bing-bongers are not necessarily hampered by their lack of real qualities but allowed to make their own way in life. The person I'm talking about here - resemblance to a currently living personage is, indeed, intentional - happened to have a very successful, self-made, wealthy father who opened doors for him, nurtured his ego and financially supported him in his business career, certainly initially. Even he, however, could have not expected that his spoiled, brash, egomaniacal son would capture the hearts and minds - I use the word loosely - of quite a large section of the American people; this because the son in question, most probably actively following in his father's footsteps, looked down upon exactly this section of society. Entertaining them, yeah, why not, it shouldn't take much to please them, after all, but leading them and claiming kinship? How has that happened?

It just goes to show that people whose only contact with gold is, maybe, a gold tooth are easy prey for a man who thinks that gold everything is the epitome of chic!

This is not a process that has developed over time and matured as both sides got to know each other; rather, it's been a whirlwind affair full of lies and empty words, tacky glitz and bing-bongs, yet surprisingly durable nevertheless. This man's supporters are shockingly indifferent to reality, to actual deeds, to action and, in this present crisis, inaction and see him as a titanic figure battling the world for their and their country's benefit even while he shows flashes of his incompetence, meanness, dishonesty and, despite all his protestations to the contrary, stupidity.

How on this Earth of ours has that been allowed to happen? How? Are we human beings truly this stupid that we cannot see a jester for what he is? How do we see a giant when what is standing in front of us is a midget?

I will survive

A little over 41 years ago a young Greek man left his home and headed to the United Kingdom in order to pursue a dream. The young man, little over twenty three years of age, wanted to become a motor racing driver, a champion no less. He had his dream, was intent on pursuing it and was prepared to make any sacrifices as needed along the way.

You, observant and regular reader, have already spotted it - that was me, younger, hungrier, full of piss and vinegar. Boy, was I determined and prepared to suffer in order to reach my target, do what was necessary, get out of my comfort zone; getting to the dream was all that mattered. And, as luck would have it in about March or April of that year Gloria Gaynor appeared on stage at the London Palladium for an amazing concert that I was fortunate to witness, when her song 'I will survive' was at number 1 in the UK chart.  I didn't just go to see her and dance along to her rhythms, I listened to her words, took courage and belief that I could cope with my suffering, acquired new determination.

Suffer I did, in many ways, some of which seem almost amusing today, spending weeks sleeping in my car, with only the occasional friend's sofa bed  as a luxury break, little money for anything other than a quick bite at a fast food place, survival only important as it allowed continued dreaming, and the effort needed to achieve The Goal (spoiler alert, it never was, fully).

Of course I could never have managed even a fraction of what I did without the support of some wonderful people along the way:

1. My parents, despite their misgivings for my chosen goal were able to provide crumbs to help me stay alive.
2. DH and IM-H gave me a base in London and allowed me to help in their enterprise, learning about London and survival skills while meeting interesting people along the way.
3. My two volunteer mechanics of 1980, Graham and ... (apologies, I have forgotten), whose unpaid if unskilled support helped me race for pennies.
4. My wonderful friend Vic Holman, still a friend today, who trusted me when nobody else, including myself, had any reason to, and allowed me to race while owing him a not insubstantial amount of money.
5. All the people whose names I rarely knew who offered me their support every weekend, with kind words, smiles and encouragement, helping me believe in myself.
6. The great Bob Geeson, the best race engineer I have ever known, whose support, cynicism and humour - not to mention unrivalled technical ability - allowed me to seriously dream of the top, and to show my best colours.
7. All the other racing car manufacturers, engine builders and the financial supporters large or small who, in so many ways allowed me to spread my wings, show my potential and fly. And dream.

Some of the above are no longer with us and may never have known how grateful I have been for their support. Others know, or knew. The adventure took place, the result was not what was hope for though I did achieve quite a lot with very little, but I did survive.

I'm still surviving, Gloria, if only just, but instead of dreams I now have memories.

Food, passion and coronaviruses

You, dear regular reader, know that I am a person for whom food is extremely important - and not just as a means of survival or existence; I love good food and the culture that goes with it. But good food depends on passion, as every form of it, from wonderful fruits and vegetables to exquisite restaurant dishes, require hard work and sacrifices with relatively limited monetary return.

Passion for great food is rare, wonderful and always worth supporting. Through this we preserve food traditions that may be centuries-old or create new ones, make better foodstuffs of every description, help celebrate life by sharing little glories, help share joy and the life-giving qualities that food, decent food made with love, brings. To me there is no greater pleasure than breaking bread and drinking wine, all made with care and love, with people you care about.

I was recently looking at something on YouTube, where a young man was summarising why he has gone back to his small, unsexy, family food-smoking business to be the 6th generation involved: 'I did a lot of fancy things with a lot of fancy people' he said of his previous career in big business in a big city 'but there was no heart. So I came back' (I apologise if I have somehow paraphrased him). To many of us, you see, money is not everything, passion is, and those of us involved in food and wine use this passion to lead us to great products, great moments, great pleasure.

As a professional voyeur on the periphery I am constantly amazed and pleasantly surprised by the number of people who share this outlook, this feeling. Few, if any, are world-renowned and famous, other than within their field, and - do you know - they don't care one bit. The reason they work hard, lose sleep and sacrifice creature comforts is because they are passionate about their craft, their products, their chosen field; the appreciative nod of the knowledgable buyer is all they need. I am in awe of these people, in awe of their passion, grateful for their very existence.

Life is about passion, creativity, dreams, at least as much as it can be about comfort, luxury and material things. Life is about the little things that make it special, the ones that someone else's passion has brought about and allowed you to get to know and appreciate. Life, whether through our passion or someone else's, can be extraordinary, even if due to external circumstances (hello coronavirus!) we now have to put it on hold and wallow in boredom.

At least that's what I think, dear reader. Feel free to disagree...

Riding on Greek buses

With all the scary stuff about viruses I very much doubt that you guys will be out there, hurrying to catch a ride on a Greek bus in Athens. In a way it's a pity, as buses are one of the last great bargains, with rides costing as little as 90 eurocents for ninety minutes of bus/metro/tram hopping in the greater Athens area, allowing the user extraordinary freedom in getting arounf.

Alas this doesn't seem enough for many Athens residents, particularly the young, who choose to trade without validating their tickets. While it may be an exaggeration, or even a statistical aberration of when I happen to observe, but eight out of ten bus passengers appear not to either have tickets or to properly endorse them according to the rules, with the young being the chief miscreants. It seems that a large number of people think that they just don't need to pay for using public transport in Greece.

Does it matter? Is it a problem? Oh yes, it is a growing, painful problem, as the bus company just cannot afford to pay for spares for its buses and being forced to cannibalise older vehicles for spares to keep the fleet moving a much as is possible. This is a serious, massive problem, neither acknowledged nor discussed presently, as it is leading to an impending collapse of public transport in its present form. Yet we persist in this reckless abuse - only this evening I witnessed fewer than half the people boarding a bus validating a ticket or travel pass.

Why is this? Well, one of the reasons is that these days there are very few controls on public transport, with the few existing being on the underground railway - I have not seen a ticket inspector on a bus in years - so the people feel that there is a free for all. What is even more worrying is that the people doing this, whether they are greek citizens or immigrants, do not feel that they are doing anything wrong as so many of their fellow users are doing the same.

Yet what they are doing is not only wrong, it is outright theft! They are defrauding the Greek state of the small fare that it has determined should be charged, a cost far below most other European capitals, and are doing so cheerfully and without any scruples. It doesn't matter if they are using the buses for one stop or many; if they cannot afford the fare they should walk instead of the current underhand practice.

Some people I have heard blame the immigrants, but in my experience that is generally not the case, though some are copying indigenous behaviour and benefiting illegally. More often than not we Greeks are our own worst enemies, cheating ourselves to feel clever. Bliah!

We need to grow up! We need to understand that this is not a victimless crime, that the thousands of law-abiding, ticket-paying citizens are not fools subsidising our immature, illicit behaviour. We need to learn that inline you need to pay your way, properly and fairly, in order to live in a decent society.

And in order to reinforce it we need to reintroduce regular, strict checks, however unpopular they may be in the short term, so that the burden is shared by all users, with those who cannot conform being forced to walk. It may even help with the obesity crisis...

The heroic winemakers of Switzerland

You'r probably confused already, dear reader, as you either never realised that there was such a thing as Swiss wine, or had tried it years ago and decided it was a bit of a joke - and not a particularly good one at that. The wines made were - and some still are - made from grape varieties not deliriously happy in the rather bracing Swiss climate, thus giving a thin, acidic, graceless liquid that no amount of skill can legitimately turn into nectar.

There have always been a few hidden gems, of course, and some perfectly drinkable stuff, especially in situ, but little to get excited about. Anyone who has visited Switzerland and has even a basic understanding of viticulture and what it takes to make a good wine would see that it would not be an easy task; rather, careful variety selection and a lot of hard work, coupled with a bit of luck, would be required to come up with the goods, i.e. a wine that could be served anywhere in the world and hold its own. And no, I'm not talking about winning prizes but winning hearts.

Recently I happened to be in Switzerland briefly and had the good fortune, though it did not feel like that at the time, to travel on Swiss trains back and forth between Saanen and Geneva with time to gaze out of the window, something that I am not able or inclined to do when driving a motor vehicle. Near the train tracks, even in steep and rather inaccessible parts of the route I discovered vineyards, incredibly well-tended, some tiny, well-organised vineyards.  These mainly face Lac Leman, the big lake between Lausanne and Geneva known to the english-speaking world as Lake Geneva.

You would not believe the effort needed to look after these plots of land, to protect the vines from both the weather and animals and then to harvest the grapes. This is a labour of love, of passion, nothing less, as commercially it makes little sense irrespective of the price of the finished article. These vineyards, or at least most of them, I'm reliably informed are now protected as World Heritage sites by UNESCO, for they are wonderful to behold. And the wine these days, you'll be pleased to hear, is no longer to be laughed at, with many extremely well made, deeply satisfying bottles around.

I have often ranted, dear reader, about the passion needed to produce decent wine not of the purely commercial, high volume variety. Wine needs this passion because it involves lots of hard work, risks with the weather and intense competition; these Swiss winemakers have it in spades. There is no chance you will make lots of money making wine in Switzerland - you probably have a better chance of winning the lottery - but you are doing something you love, ancient yet advanced, simple yet complex, pride-giving and quite adorable.

I salute these brave, passionate men and women, winemakers of Switzerland, true heroes, am pleased that their products have improved and continue to do so, and will back them in whatever tiny way I can. And you should too!

2020 or something

Well, it's here, this crazy date that seemed so remote when I was a child, featuring in futuristic prediction TV shows and novels pretending to know and understand what was to come. So many impressive ideas appeared and seemed like sensible predictions, only to be consigned to the 'daft ideas of history' bin along the way.

In fairness 2020 is only one of the dates used - and there were many - but the most attractive, symmetrical one, perhaps, and a very nice one it appears to be. And now it's here, with the first month nearly at an end and the days growing longer.

But what of our world, which is still without air scooters, fishbowl helmets and the like, even without aliens as far as we are aware (though I am suspicious of a couple of the neighbours where I'm currently living...)? How has it evolved and where will it be after this year?

For one the world seems like a very humdrum progression from, say, 1960; there is very little that is truly revolutionary and unrecognisable, for all the amazing technology surrounding us. Cars still have four wheels and function in a similar fashion to the contraptions of the time, if far more efficiently, with electric vehicles perhaps the only major differentiation, with the same being largely true of motorbikes, even though some of today's machinery would have left the younger me salivating; the principle is largely the same, but evolved.

Our homes equally are more advanced but easily recognisable and fairly similar, even if their equipment is far superior - there are very few 'space pod' type homes around - with a simple layout. Fashions may affect our clothes and personal stuff but they too wouldn't completely confuse a visitor from the previous century, apart from yes, computers and their power, which have given rise to all sorts of convenient and fun gimmicks but little that is essential to humankind's existence or, indeed, survival. The i-pad (or similar) is fun and even useful, true, but not really life-changing if we choose to be honest.

Look around you with an open mind, then go back to 1960 either in your memory if, like me, you are an aged creature, or in archives and their photographs. Many of the clothes we wear today are similar if not identical, furniture also, though mass production has provided us with lighter materials, sleeker designs and cheaper prices.

Under the surface a lot has changed, of course, mainly for the better. The 'futurists' of my childhood, however, imagined a radically different world which has failed to appear; in many ways I am grateful for that. Perhaps our children will go around with fishbowls on their heads and travel to the Planet Zog (or wherever) for a holiday or, indeed, to work!

The true 'Masters of the Universe'

In the crazy atmosphere of 1980s New York, so graphically depicted in the novel 'Bonfire of the Vanities', people made ludicrously huge sums of money gambling with money belonging to others on the financial markets. These individuals not only didn't realise that their rewards were higher than any  proper compensation for what they were doing, but they considered that they were taking risks and so deserved every penny. In those cocaine-fuelled days they regarded themselves as 'Masters of the Universe', important, deserving people.

Oh, how we laughed in the late eighties when their make-believe world crumbled along with their egos. As their clever but ultimately flawed schemes failed one after the other, some were fired and others demoted; a small number who had, even by the financial professions lax moral standards, behaved badly even went to prison for a while. And we naive people on the outside expected their world to cleanse itself and start again.

Ha! No sooner had the dust settled and they were at it again, different individuals perhaps but with the same exaggerated idea of their importance, equally dodgy 'investment' schemes and fresh sales patter. These snake oil salesmen of our times, clever admittedly and emboldened by the realisation that hardly anyone, themselves included, truly understood their schemes, went on the rampage again cloaked in the respectability provided by their 'Banking' habitat. Passionate evangelists of their schemes, they told everyone that they were not like the previous - failed - eighties mob, they were the real deal, the true 'Masters of the Universe'. Why, they worked so hard and risked so much just for a measly few dollars (millions were, perhaps, implied but not always mentioned), out to provide a much-needed service helping their fellow humans have a better life.

It all went bad again, of course, as reality caught up with the clever schemes and demolished them and all that went with them. Once again customers paid the ultimate price, though of course some of the 'wizards' also found themselves unneeded and, more importantly, unwanted. Yet there were tears and frustration at the unfairness of it all, how the world was unkind and refused to recognise their talents just because of a minor blip. Many of the those involved still saw themselves as 'Masters of the Universe', albeit unfairly and temporarily demoted.

Fast forward to today, when I read on the BBC website that the toddler son of an Australian firefighter, who lost his life trying to protect others in the current bushfires, was given his father's medal for bravery; another toddler is due to receive a similar award next week for his fallen father. Or go back to so many rescue crews who have lost their lives trying to save others or, indeed, imagine the unimaginably brave 9/11 emergency crews who raced to help their stricken city, with so many subsequently paying the price for their heroism. There are similar incidents everywhere in the world, every single day, of people risking everything to help others, sometimes paying the ultimate price. We reward these people with an everyday salary and a pat on the back (or a medal) for their bravery.

If we are in need we expect the emergency services to rush to our aid disregarding any peril in their way, seeing that as part of their job and not thinking much about what they do unless we live through their heroism ourselves. They risk their lives for us but we regard financial operators as more important and reward them accordingly, regarding them with awe and envy, the emergency services as just people doing their jobs.

We're crazy. The important people in this, the true 'Masters of the Universe' if we can ever give such a title to human beings, are the members of the emergency services willing to risk even their lives for the rest of us. We should revere, appreciate and honour them, not just posthumously, and strive to help make their jobs and lives easier by being considerate - they deserve as much.