More Butter, Less Toast

F has been scraping together her personal resources.  We are not sure how they seemed to get spread so thinly - like trying to make the last smears recovered from the butter dish spread all the way to the edges of the toast .

Just dispense with the toast, I say. Lick the butter straight off the dish.

With restrictions on places to go and people to see, with not even having to commute, you would think there would be plenty of butter to go round ( or a VERY SMALL PIECE OF TOAST to spread it on).  Despite that she seems to be of the view that there simply are not enough hours in each day.

We are in Greece for goodness sake! There are more than enough hours for relaxation and socializing over cold coffee, going fishing, or simply taking a nap.

So what is her problem?  We don't have our allotment.  There is no backyard garden and lawns.  Her weekends are not spent yacht racing (oddly), and she has no charity work or cycle touring club outings in her schedule.  Her clock spring has gone slack none-the-less.

I can't find the key to wind her up again.  (She's gone like the other bunny in the Duracell adverts.)

Possibly, deciding to try to recover the physical fitness lost during successive lockdowns has sapped something.  It gets harder as we get older.  I should know.  I still do ZOOMIES, but they aren't a full 'funny five minutes' any more.  They are more 'short dash' than 'mad ZOOM', and the recovery time is longer.  Restorative naps are essential but F doesn't seem to do those.  She needs lessons in being more cat.

Her morning bike rides have been getting longer.  My breakfasts have been late every day this week; which is how I time the bike rides.  I get up in the first light of dawn and go outside to my, now al fresco, Condo to watch the sunrise and the arrival of the fishermen; and I see her depart on her skinny bike.  She says that seeing as I wake her up she might as well leave early and take advantage of the cool(ish) time of day.  (Mr B on the other hand does another 3 or 4 hours in bed after that - he knows how to make his butter reach the edges of his toast.)

A week of covering work for a colleague on study leave extended the work hours a bit, and during that same week we celebrated Mr B's birthday.  It has an 0 on the end which means it is 10 years since our last big party for him (I still remember it well - it rained a lot).  We celebrated this one with a special Torte from a fancy shop, and a plate of anchovies eaten at a taverna in the evening; and F is organizing a party (if you could call 4 people a party) for the weekend.  I recognize the world PORK on the whiteboard in the kitchen....😋  On top of all this she is rushing to finish the latest batch of small human clothes for Mr B to take to UK with him next week.  Post between UK and EU hasn't worked for us this year.  It is easier to post things to (and get them from) NZ, Aus, and Canada than UK.  The form filling for post of parcels to UK... well let's just say Mr B is driving back; he can take this stuff.

Having expressed all that, we sat down and thought about it together and decided that being released from imposed restrictions doesn't just expand the range of opportunities available, it also generates some sort of increased expectation (in oneself) that we will avail ourselves of them. We need to make time for eating out, sitting in cafes, visiting friends, tasting wine, stalking lizards, sight-seeing, travel.... We need to make up for a year in which we had planned to visit more in this part of the world and make the best possible use of the fairly limited time we have here.  25% of that time didn't go as planned, so the remaining year is going to be like cramming for exams - or at least it feels like we ought to be 

And all that expectation will be at the cost of all the activities engaged in over the last 12 months to 'keep busy', 'create routine', 'fill days', 'be constructive', 'stay alert', 'stay sane'....  Eventually it will be easier to let them go and return to filling our days the ways we used to, but for now, in the transition period, they still feel important and balancing the certain with the uncertain is energy sapping.

Comments

  1. It all sounds too exhausting to me. I think I need a nap.

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  2. I feel that way - sort of half released, but enough restrictions to stop me from what I REALLY want to do. I'm delighted with the freedom but frustrated with what remains. The travel restrictions are especially painful - I couldn't care much about the pubs and hugs - but I do want to go camping and visit the alps again... and shop without a mask. I wish we could pick and choose - but hey, 'this too will pass' as someone very wise once said.

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    1. It's not like we were travelling every weekend anyway - we were trying to become Masters of our local Square Mile... but now we feel like going further afield. We had planned to go to Azerbijan last year, and Cappadocia this year.... and we still have lots of Greece to see and enjoy. It's just the feeling that we should be trying cram it all in anyway.

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  3. Hari OM
    "...Just dispense with the toast, I say. Lick the butter straight off the dish."... forgive me Mr T, but that one had be cackling out loud. I sooo identify...

    And with that last sentence. Think that one is the nail fully hit. So much is still uncertain. Over here already there are murmerings that the 'freedom for all in June' might have been a tad reckless of an announcement. REally? Out of all the previous unstatements???... sigh...

    Driving all the way from Greece? Safe travels Mr B. Hugs and whiskeries, YAM-aunty xxx

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  4. OMG i just asked Google if I could drive from Greece to UK and it said yes and it also said it would take three 12 hour days. is that true? at first i thought how can one do that, then it occured to me, it must involve ferries. sorry for all that blather, but the drive took over my mind. I did read the post and did enjoy it and Beau loves to lick butter or anything at all from dish or bowl or butter tub... Tigger you look Fantastic...

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    1. You can travel overland from the Greek mainland to ports on the Western European coast of what we call the English Channel and North Sea. At that point you can either board a train (in your car) that goes under the sea, or drive onto a ferry. This version is a long way. We haven't tried it - but we might when we all move back.

      You can also take a ferry from Greece to Italy that cuts out the overland long way round through the Balkans. This version is about 900 miles from Ancona to Calais - about 2 eight hour stints of motorway driving.

      Tell Beau that cream cheese it good too.

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  5. I must admit I like a good amount of butter, I think it just makes food taste that much better. Does Tigger like it? Ours do.

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