STIRRING FROM MY DEN
Thanks to the best efforts of our allegedly
conservative government, foreign travel currently is a bewildering labyrinth of
regulation and restrictions, echoing a regimen concocted by Walter Ulbricht or
Clem Attlee on one of his bad days. The cost of air tickets has soared and
there are wholly unnecessary and amazingly expensive mandatory tests that even
the dutifully vaccinated must take on re-entry to their native land. The rich
can shrug this off but most people cannot, and for sure many spivs are lining
their pockets at our expense. Despite all this we are planning to fly to Greece
soon to see our charming, ever-helpful middle son and 3-year-old grand-daughter
there, not embraced since November 2019. We want some sun (probably we will get
an excess) to warm our aching joints and lots of Mediterranean cooking and cold
vino to leaven the suety Northern European lump.
Tasty
Greek Food
I have been a little out of sorts of late and
the trip is in part recuperative. Normally I approach the journey out with
excited anticipation but this time there is also a strong dash of trepidation –
what nasties do London Airport and Greek Border Control have up their sleeves?
We hear of half-mile queues at UK passport control, planes at remote departure
gates, anti-Brexit fines (the Macron tax) on incoming Brits, Greece burning at
40C and electricity supplies collapsing, shutting down the aircon. Wild fires
are very dangerous, killing 102 at the seaside town of Mati, well known to us,
in July 2018. Maybe I can avoid these horrors – I can only hope and pray to that
frisky group on Mount Olympus.
To instill some degree of serenity, I loved the
recent Albert Hall Prom given by the Scottish Chamber Orchestra, conducted by
Maxim Emelyanychev, of Mozart’s last 3 symphonies, the skittish and cheerful 39th,
the deeply felt 40th and the triumphant 41st (the
Jupiter). What joy! – I was proud again of being Scottish, a volatile emotion
as Boris and Nicola supposedly have an on-off meeting today – inevitably a
dialogue of the deaf, sowing discord, perhaps best avoided.
While on holiday I will read and my thoughtful
and golden-hearted eldest son gave me a couple of choice books. The first is Doom,
the Politics of Catastrophe by Niall Ferguson, which will be fascinating,
but perhaps too near the bone for holiday reading. The second book, The Best
of A. A. Gill will be perfect. Gill was a clever Scotsman who wrote for the
Sunday Times, as a foodie and as a wide-ranging critic of politics and
international affairs, written in a flamboyant fashion, with much sympathy for
refugees, the dispossessed and the helpless. He was not blameless, but given to
drink and infidelity. He also was married for 5 years to Amber Rudd, later the
offensively outspoken Remainer, who somehow was appointed to May’s cabinet as
Home Secretary and who could not work with Boris. Anyhow Gill was a memorable
writer, joining those belle lettristes like H L Mencken, Arthur
Marshall, Tom Wolfe and even Boris himself in his Brussels days, all of whom
much enlivened literature with their humourously trenchant short pieces.
Our Greek holiday is most wonderfully subsidised
by our youngest son, a high-flying banker, – limos, business class travel, the
works – who is our constantly generous benefactor – how lucky we are! Our next
expedition will be to his house in Charlotte, N Carolina, which we have never
seen and I am sure is very civilised (if we can avoid wokeish fans of
cataleptic Joe Biden and crackpot nostalgics for Donald Trump!). America will
find its admirable feet again soon.
My lovely wife will shepherd me through our
journey to her native Athens. She will miss some TV, especially American
house-renovation series as she is an avid fan of Chip and Jo Gaines’ Fixer-Upper,
The Property Brothers, Drew and Jonathan Scott, and of Nate and Jeremiah,
all full of advice on how to change our house, probably at vast expense! They
feed a fantasy, at least.
So, we’re off – fingers crossed!
SMD
5.08.21
Text Copyright © Sidney Donald
2021
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