Something wonderful happens in this big old city every Easter. It empties. Everyone goes to their village to celebrate Easter and a peace decends on the Metropolis that will not exist again until the middle of August. The few of us who remain get an idea of what it must have been like here forty years ago. I'm not being antisocial - I also enjoy the bustle when all five million Athenians - native or adopted - are packed in here like sardines. But it's pleasant to enjoy the contrast every now and again. And I get to enjoy the 
pleasure of planting my bottom on a comfortable chair on my balcony or tending to the plants without hearing boy racer 
zooming by below on his decibel-maximising souped-up moped cum sewing machine every five minutes. 
I also get to enjoy pottering about. It's hard to truly define "pottering about", but basically it's the art of doing something for hours
without actually really doing much that you couldn't have done in five minutes if 
you'd put your mind to it. But who wants to put his mind to anything much in an empty sunny city where the most important decision is whether to deadhead the
red geraniums or the white ones. I plumped for the red ones. The white ones will happily wait until August.
Kalhnyxta se olous, good night each each, a nos da i chi gyd