If it’s true you never get a second chance to make a first impression, then Halki has nothing to worry about. As the boat approaches the island you are welcomed into a harbour, shaped like an embrace. A welcome hug from a relative you never knew you had. The faces of colourful neoclassical houses are warm and pretty. The little harbor IS Halki and its beautiful in the fuzzy-feeling way only a pretty Greek island can be. The houses are arranged around the harbor and tumble down right to the waters edge. And that is right where we are going too. Continue reading “Greek island tails…”
That awkward moment when you get home from the school run and find a horse in your house…
Yes, this is a real picture. Of my house. And my horse. And I really did come home from the school run to find him like this. My friends will tell you its nothing unusual. Many a time I have posted pictures of him sticking his head through a window or through the half door of the kitchen. He has been living in our garden for a year now. Since the fire brigade flattened the fence around his field to put out a fire. It was only supposed to be temporary, just until I fixed the fence again. But, I admit, I like it. I mean who wouldn’t want this half tonne beauty just outside their back door? It’s every young girls fantasy, isn’t it? (reminds herself she is 44 years old) But the problem with them being just outside your back door is that sometimes they make their way inside…
I’m in the shower. I can hear rustling of plastic bags and a bit of commotion. Flippin’ dogs, I think, they must have got into the rubbish again. ‘Poppy’, I call in vain. Poppy is plugged into goodness-knows-what on youtube and my shouts fall onto large earphones. I mentally run through what was in the rubbish to estimate the scale of the mess. I calculate it’s not that bad, so I don’t hurry. Towel wrapped round me, hair dripping, expletives for the dogs on the tip of my tongue and Woah! I almost collide with half a tonne of princely horse beauty…in the kitchen. IN the kitchen. IN THE KITCHEN. He’s standing so peacefully, resting a back hoof. Nudging through a bag of rubbish. I panic. I laugh. I panic again. I think twice about taking a photo, feeling things might have gone a tad too far this time. Oh, do you think?
I do manage to manouvre him back outside, albeit reluctantly (on his part, honestly). Its quite a tight spot corner from the back door into the kitchen and I am ridiculously grateful that he is such a laid back horse. And that he’s not wearing shoes. And that my husband wasn’t home.
So you would think that might have prompted me to get that fence fixed and send him home. But he’s such good company. And he saves us having to mow the lawn. I don’t rate him much as an assistant though, he drinks far too much tea for my liking…
ourbigfatgreeklife 