07 November 2012


Started Greek lessons under the genial donnish Aleko Damaskinos, whose family my parents knew well and to whom my mother referred often.
We meet at Sally's in Ipsos and sit over by the dartboard, far enough for the sound from the TV not to defeat my aural hearing.
Merry little group, alert and keen.
I can read the Greek which puts me ahead of the rest and, I think, annoys A who writes greek on the board and then has to translate.
Pronouncing v as v rather than as 'n' will grate in time.
Aleko's notes are excellent as is he, taking us patiently along with simple examples. I learn a lot because it is teaching me the groundwork as opposed lazily picking up what i hear.
Lesson 3 i forget to print out the notes so i do not have a crib sheet and dont look so smart, much to the others' relief and satisfaction.
After, we retire for a beer: i sip leisurely at my beer (booze with lesson? disgraceful!)
After the first lesson, A and I had good chat and then up to the Vitamin where he is well known, as where he is not?
He knows where the bodies are buried.
When I was asked how the lesson went by a long-time corfiot, I mentioned my enjoyment of the long chat after, solving all the problems of the world and exhuming others, the blood drained from her face and she 'probed'. I was casual and played ignorant but i knew exactly why she blanched. Mum's the word as I tease the good stuff out. More anon.

First thing Aleko asked eagerly was, had I seen the Democracy Street coverage of his lessons.
I had not and whatever I punch in I still can't find photos or critiques such as I myself will be coming up with.
But gosh, doesn't rue Demo look fresh and clean these days. I continue to plummet in grumpy gloom as new-style blogger wastes even more time than it did before.
Perhaps updating it at 0557hrs has something to do with it.
Let me at least upload some photos and arrange and edit at a more sensible hour.

The Baddeley/Damaskinos class - thanks to Sinbad for passing on.

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