09 January 2007

Wild Oats

Dimitri greeting partycrasher Ian DunaneAs blogged earlier, Maman held her annual Greek Epiphanatical knees-up for the great and good, to which came the distinguished gent seen here.

I hadn't said much to him, him being clearly respectable and me being a grouch and sponger.


D and party-crasher IanSuddenly he came up to me and started singing a jokey Greek song I had written 30 years earlier to pull the birds and ingratiate myself with the local taverna owners. How the deuce did he know the words?

He gave me a big hug and asked, "Christos! Is you! You don't remember me?" I did not but he filled in the gaps. Mon Dieu - that Dimitri.


internal shot of dimitri being the perfect guestBack in the jungle that was Kerkira circa 1974, I was running amok with pater's Fiat Spider and a Yairi nylon-string, and one of the baaddest dudes around was a shaggy-haired entrepreneur, hated by all but feared for his money, ruthless ways and brilliance as a sirtaki dancer. Dimitri.

Spotting my pied piper ways with the chicks, he took me under his pterodactyl wing and virtually gave me carte blanche  with his discos and eateries.We embraced and summoned large brandies for the toast.

I reminded him of a splendid incident that did my ego no end of good:

That year's disco of choice was D's Apollo Dancerie, which I naturally frequented and for which the beat was often silenced for yours truly to take the microphone and chant. Eeuww and megalo yukk, I know.

Into this disco would come an odious type, loaded with money and swimming with lady friends of deep cleavage and vacant expressions. Dimitri took an instant dislike to him.

One evening I found myself invited to a beach party for which I needed booze and cigs, so I asked the barkeep if I could have a bottle of red and pack of his finest Papastratos "on account".

"F- me, mate," said moneybags with a sneer, "You'll be lucky."

Dimitri was in earshot and snapped out, "TWO bottles! NO CHARGE!" The twit's face was a picture.

I laughingly reminded Dimitri of his splendid gesture, at which his expression darkened.

"I said that? Christos - I am so sorry. I should have said 'Two bottles wine, one brandy, my most beyootiful barmaid ... NO CHARGE."

"Hang about," said Larisa his exquisite wife, who'd sidled up to see what the love-in was all about.

"That was me. Remember?"

2 comments :

Ashley said...

So many great stories. You really should start to put them together (edited for a single voice/style and angled with some sort of theme/hook) into a manuscript. Shop it around. You certainly know where and who might like to see it.

Busker said...

I know. And *you* of all people know. And even my old publishing buddies go on at me,

"F-'s sake, Holmes. Off yer derriere and do what the Good Lord sent you for. No use just boring *us* - take it global, sirrah"

But thanks. From you, that means summat and makes me think i ought to shift my butt and leave my daughters something to cringe over.