FORMER

craig brown is always good value

GANGNAM-gangnam style

• MIKO style
• Condom style
• Gunman style
• Sexy Style mashup
• In the Navy-style

Pre-ponderance of the Banal

~ Dateline: Corfu, 0600hrs ~

At the prodding of an editor, I unwisely sent her samples of the 'real' local feedback that's bombarded our credentials-krazee Corfu Grapevine over the ITV documentary 'Chasing Tall Tales Round Two Islands'.

Her response is still pushy but with a glimmer of sympathy:

"There is nothing quite like a Comments page for appreciating the pre-ponderance of the banal in human thought and existence."

RAIN

Splendid day. Drank as much as I wanted last night and still woke clear-brained and steady.
Walked Sam round the estate and this time remembered to take shears to clip a clear route along the cottage path.

• Scrambled eggs (à la Gordon not pretty-boy Jamie who doesn't get the stir right)
• Saucissons and grilled 'matoes
• Diellas bacon
• Toast and chunky marmalade
• Tokas booming from the speakers.

Après, on with welligogs, seize saw, and down to that thicket that's been blocking my view of the gate and waiting gardenry twats hoping to enter and view maman's 'lovely garden - hope you don't mind'.
Working on the railroad ~ this being a serious blues/folk-oriented blog, I always try to stick it to 'Lanky-limb' Potts with summat he won't have cottoned on to.
I'll have him with this one.
Tree felled, I thought I'd pick a little blès.

Nuisance about cutting my head off in the best action shot but at least my wearing wellingtons shows my Corfu 'normalness'.
Let them eat Galaktoboureko: My kind of evening last night, sitting around swilling Pimms and Fleurie as I regaled the assembled company with recitations of the more 'authentic' comments from Grapevine reactions to this Tale of Two Islands soap.
My Sunderland accent a great hit; Lupin's nose quite put out of joint and he stamped out of the room declaring that he had better things to do down at Sally's where 'real' people gather.
Carrie gave me a 'look' as she told him to wrap up warm and not drive too fast.
I waited until I heard the door slam before quipping,

"Look, I have the car keys. He will not be breaking any speed limit in his GT HushPuppies."

How we laughed, and Miranda told me I was positively the wittiest man in the room.
I did not catch Carrie's eye.

Επέτειος του «'Οχι»!

Oh, hi! ~ stupid anti-climactic Wicked Paed - sounds like a Dimitri Savile tribute band.

Sent this link to Spitfire Anna as part of her ongoing education into Corfioter-than-Thou-ness credentialia and the Lioness of my Loins chirped back,

"Daad! Like, 'Oh hi'?"

I had been telling her of the noble patriotic anniversary I would be celebrating, with 5-star Metaxa and music of the rousingest.

Now she'll be telling her homettes, "Like yah, the Italians wanted to move in on the Greeks' territo' - totally like the '300' - so the gang leader texted

'Yo! Ioanni!' and he was like 'Oh, hi! Brandy 'n' Redbull?'

I'm terrified that Maria will be visiting and beckon her over, "Come here, darling, sit by me. Now, do you know what important day this is? I am sure father has been teaching you how to be a good Greek" and Anna will curtsey prettily and spout the above. Maria's expression (shudder):

"Close enough. Chreess, I will talk to you mia fora!"

In my ongoing campaign to boost my Corfu Grapevine 'credentials', I'm 'correcting' my harshest critics by reminding them that what Metaxas actually said was,

"Dear boy! Come in. Brandy and soda? No?

Alors, c'est la guerre."

PROGRESS REPORT

~ Grapevine Towers ~

Babeler Than Thou ~ Faster, damn you!

Must be topped off in time for final episodes of A Tale of Two Islands.

'CORFIOTER THAN THOU'

~ A Tale of Real People ~

Chuck towel in. I admit defeat.
Last night saw the third episode of our contentious documentary on the 'two islands' of Corfu - still not definitively explained by the makers but much conjectured and pronounced on by the fierce commentariat of Facebook annexe, The Corfu Grapevine.
I set out to review the series as a whole, never imagining the tsunami of local feedback and strident opinions that burst over me.
Only episode three and I'm exhausted monitoring the heart-felt comments and, frankly, baffled by the 'thinking' behind many of the opinions.
Who are these people? What has coming to Corfu done to them?
If I felt so inspired, I'd ditch the keyboard, grab the Ovation and write a Randy Newman-style paeon to 'Real People', quoting extensively from actual comments.
It's of personal satisfaction that the prelude post I dashed off has proved so prescient ~ indeed, actually quoted from, albeit without their realising they were all drawing from a single source.

The defensiveness ~ the long-nursed grudges and pre-conceptions ~ the resentments and life-long yearnings to be heard. It has opened flood-gates of deeply-buried emotions way beyond mere televisual entertainment. I am not up to the task of measured analysis, let alone a light-hearted commentary.
We live in straitened times, bankrupt and going down slow. How else hold our heads up except to declare ourselves 'real'?
The deafening roar of self-justification depresses and disarms my pen. I lack the vocabulary to pin it to the page.
His ear bent by a neighbouring bar-stool drunk, Hemingway turned to the man and said

"I get in my own jams."

Thanks to my mother, here in Corfers I mix with the 'Unreal' and - do you know what? - Grapevine might be a-thunder with knee-jerk reactions, but in the salons of the plummy-voweled, not a ripple disturbs the uneasy calm of our own woes.

We/They simply do not comprehend what on earth all the fuss is about.

This must be how all Us/Them revolutions start: cultural incomprehension.
I set out to tease and goad with harmless wordplay, but I under-estimated the sleeping beast that has been woken.
It has not just stirred but reared breathing fires of rage and strangled-vowel indignation that even the most articulate rabble-rousers must sense goes deeper than the imagined slights that fuel these verbal flailings.
I will not take them on.
I've met them individually, of course: in the workplace, pubs and the daily humdrum of life. But never out of their native habitat, and here again is a clue to the uniting unhappiness of displacement.
I've never had a 'home' country - Australia, Hong Kong, unmarried London/married London, Texas, Boston, London again, Hong Kong again, Seattle and crumbling marriage ... Corfu and crumbling family home.

Just to type it is exhausting but only now I do type it does any sense of the rootless reality come thru.

I have nothing to say for or about my fellow inhabitants of this paradise ghetto.

I'm not inclined to watch further episodes, not because of what'll appear on the screen but of the intense boredom and incomprehension stirred by the almost hourly torrent of must-read reactions from others with whom I share my final home.

Ace comment link from the Bluesman.

"Κερκυραϊκήss my ass!"

~ the reminder I posted on Facebook's Corfu Grapevine ~

TALE OF TWO ISLANDS ~ ITV, 0035hrs tonite.

To be safe, put the indefatigable Domonic Willgrave's hard work to use and choose your own access.

Please don't forget to tune in to Episode 3 of the documentary that has us all afire. We are the stars.

The Grapevine comments that rage *afterwards* are gripping by far than what Matt et co caught on camera.

Nor do we need to know what's gone before: already after only two episodes, it's clear that facts only get in the way.

• Mewl moan bleat ~ The ill-informed hammering that stalwart Marcus took.
• The self-referential whinges about ToTI not being the fawning advertorial many of us clearly expected.
• Matt's thorough research beforehand received many reminders not to overlook the dogs and donkeys (worthy but boring).

  Here we are - only on #2 - and mewl mewl mewl about no mention of the Sanctuary.

Patience, mes chers!

Mirror mirror on the Vine ~ What makes the feedback so riveting - and why please puhleez we should all chip-on-the-shoulder chip in - is the mirror it holds up to us all and how we're learning so much about who else shares our paradise island.

Κερκυραϊκή-ss my ass ~ Goodness! The 'Corfioter-than-thou' posturings, the Robespierrian grillings over 'credentials' and Corfu 'history'.

What my Greek homies refer to as 'Κερκυραϊκή-ss my derrière'.

Absolutely hilarious.

There really should be a pamphlet of edited Comments issued with the DVD boxed set of the final eight episodes.

This is just a pleading reminder not to miss it and not to hold back on 'robust' opinions.

Let a thousand comments bloom! ~ If Episodes 1 and 2 are anything to go by, a plethora of new threads will sprout without any centralised moderating for a one-stop reference source. Self-immolate: This heads-up is set to self-destruct once its job is done [so you wont have me to kick around 'til the next time].

Coming attractions:

• Bernard and Heather celebrating their 60th wedding anniversary during their annual holiday
• Well-spoken Tim and Victoria waxing lyrical on their love for Corfu
• Music Maestro! ~ Great sounds from Rick Driscoll and his hot-babe chanteuses 'live' at Kovtokoli's 'Navigators' (plug plug) and do note Rick's T-shirt promoting his boaterie
• 
  Bribe for the babe ~ If my groveling and pleading, not to mention the hefty backhander squeezed dahn Matt's bulging 'budgie smuggler' has had any effect, there should be a fleeting camera-pan of the Pulse-of-my-Heart's arty periptero, Kýma ("Murals to the Gentry")

I've sent out pushy grovels to the editors for whom I write, assuring them of a 'lively' critique of the documentary, but I have the feeling that the intra-Corfu reaction is where the real story lies. Thanks, and enjoy!

Holiday Forum - my daughter in Seattle says they're agog over the show. Sends me this. No doubt old hat to all y'all.

Κερκυραϊκή Αλεπού

...το Blog της Κέρκυρας

I like to dance around the blogs, checking out the cheekier ones and following them for a week or so.

This agile chappie has given me amusement and a run for my Greek vernacular.

Reading the renegade locals' blogs, seeing how they make no concessions to what's coming out of the GB Brand ghetto - prolly totally unaware of our churnings - I think what fun it'll be when I'm sufficiently damaskinosed to rap with the homies.

GANGBANG Corfu-style ~ Nai!

(or whatever the Etonian Corfiot is for 'Yah!')

Couldn't be perfecter timing.

ITV's 'Tale of Two Islands' en transmission and the stalwart Domonic right there for us with all da links.

India Knight in the Sunday Times keeping it real by monitoring the Midian backlash from all us salts of the earth.

Grecian goddess Ariana Huffington's Post also on the case.

Tory toffs dont get it ~ which we knew but the Torygraph puts the bovver boot in.

We live in glorious times: 6 more episodes to go of ToTI and already the natives are restless.

Pempti (25 Οκτώβριος as ever is) promises/threatens to be dishing up tofferopouloi to make even moi sound like Sid James.

Grapevine ~ expect it to be white hot with the 'Normals' hissing and dissing.

Can't wait.Last word for Eileen (of course): "Nothing worse or more harsh than a working class snob." B'boum.

CORFIOTER THAN THOU ~ Tuesday soir, dinner entre les élites. Much jocularity about lower orders' huffing and puffing on Gripevine.

Only 2 episodes in but typical pre-judging and gun-jumping. All agreed jolly good mirror for everyone to hold up to themselves.By the final episode, the 'Corfioter than thou' brigade should have some inkling what is actually going on around the island.

Περισσότερες από ό, τι Κερκυραίος ~ Meanwhile, much water to be passed and many many axes to grind before curtain-fall ... so don't forget, it doesn't actually matter what/who/where Matt takes us in Two Tales: its sole function is as a peg on which to hang our pre-judices.

Exemplary Toff ~ Classic example was dear Marcus who very handily stood in as whipping boy for every imagined slight and posh type under whom those northern tribes have ever rankled.

CORFU FORUM ~ as the series progresses, expect ever-increasing hysteria and wild conjecture, not to mention self-referential bleats.This sort of link will be good for folks who conveniently blur over how the whole thing was set up and the care and detail and conscientious research.

Touching Tales ~ soppy little story about true luhve in Acharavi succeeded by clue that the team were alerted and offered the chance to do 'dogs and donkeys of Corfu'. Very not surprisingly, they declined with all the right apologetic noises: let me guess, 'Lassie' and 'Muffin the Mule' too brayin' barking boring.

TALE OF TWO ISLANDS:

• October 25: Expats and tourists doing their Corfioter-than-thou thing. This week's spotlight on Bernard and Heather celebrating their 60th wedding anniversary during their annual holiday. Particularly look out for Tim and Victoria, who love Corfu so much they built their own house there.
  Rick's babe belters 'live' at the Navigators.
• November 1: Marvel and gasp as a 17-year-old girl struggles to find work over the busy summer season.Guess Who's the former antiques dealer from Kensington 'trying' to live the artistic dream.
• Cheer the lady who came to Corfu for a holiday and decided to stay for good.

"Warm and honest" ~ can't say fairer than that. That's the programme, mind you. It's up to the audience how they behave and react.

Corfu Forum ~ particularly usful in the coming days and episodes for feedback on the 'Corfioter-than-Thou' beefers.

Post Merge - got a bit FancyBoots and started more than one post - just as Grapevine sprouted more threads than we could control with no Mod.

Tattle tale of 1,000 comments

TALE OF TWO ISLANDS

Ferocious battle brewing over ITV's documentary on Corfu (8 episodes, oct 11 - nov 29; props to heroic Domonic for cool tubing as the rest of us flailed round bad-mouthing and bitching)

Oh poh poh! The ferocious tribes oop t'north donning warpaint and wode and really laying into the Us/Them/Rich folks/Po' theme.

If it achieves one thing it'll be to have opened eyes to who else strives here in the Brand GB ghetto.

Only 2 episodes but minds are set on wot it's all abaht, Alfie

Cannot wait for next Pempti 25th's transmission when, i hear, the tumbril rolls with some of my favourite toffs aboard: a very clever writer/antiques dealer and, i assume glumly, his wonderful wife who must surely have demurred firmly with many an aristo glare. And another couple that I too fear to mention. You will spot them.

Now that the series is showing and the chattering salons are abuzz, I cannot believe the old school haughties who fell for it.

Not my boy, Sinbad: Carrie was too canny.

Pity because some of the UK mags I foist my scribblings on had asked me to submit whatever mischief i chose to submit as an insider and i would have done for Badders with a Grossmith job on his appearance. Perfect target, Lupin setting it all up with the Holloway Comedians invited. Carrie in her new smock-frock dress. Camera lights, action! Camera pulls back to show a game of 'Cutlets' in progress. Just when it can't get worse, knock on door. Mr Perkupp (alerted by me that a suave soirée would be en train chez Spiti Simon.) I might do it anyway; wonderful exercise.

The Corfu 'Grapevine' has really come into its own and the island will never be the same. I am taking careful notes of the chief players and brayers and copying some of the more 'bullish' comments to post into the article.

Turned maman's bedroom into a studio for the Strat and the draft first verses wrote themselves:

TALE OF TWO ISLANDS

"Tale of 2 islands, 'Normal and the 'Posh',
Corfu credentials and all that hogwash

Tale of two islands, tale of three divides
Sidari down to Kavos, theyre all taking sides

chorus: Denise Kyma caring, Caroline in Salt
Me i'm in the dog house, everything my fault

Tale of two islands, six more to go,
Natives gettin' restless, the rich and the po'

[Wild frantic solo, much tremolo bending and opahs! Surly demands to 'show me thy credentials!' and "woss yer corfu 'history'?"]

... a Tale of Two Islands, sand and shining sea,
Don't miss the dogs n donkeys,
And specially dont miss me. "

Lawd have mercy!

Needs wailing harp from Big Jim and I want to add some grik verses that i'll pass via Maria for tightening and vernacularising as only she can do.

More, much more anon.

And I'm so pleased with Caroline's daubs of me as Rockfist Rogan that I'm showing them orf here.

Meanwhile my pale version of Carrie sends me pics of Mexican TV's weather hotties.

Unembarrassed contempt for people Not Our Kind: we sneer and jeer at the Posh vs Squash divide, but apparently it still exists.

Hark the good old Torygraph; food for thought.

I must read the Vine bleats with greater caution and respect.

FOUR SONGS

[that make me cry]

Includes links

Dreadful soppy words

But who am i to talk? Driving Caroline to airport this morning to spend 2-3 weeks in the arms of her chap. Feeling un peu soppy m'self

Actually came across this page researching strikes in case there was no point driving C anywhere. Seems to be a strike tomorrow but less certain about today being disrupted.

Now i've got this on my mind.

Now i read this blog more closely, I see how useful it would have been - still will be - to my life in Corfu

print-out guitare

AXE

Dude! I've heard of pimp my axe but how about PRINT my axe?

VICTORIA DREW

~ bookbinder supreme ~

Props to the marvelous Victoria Drew for such an expert job on our late Consul of Cricket, the late and great John Forte's, history of willow-on-leather history of Corfu cricket.Here's a measure of Victoria's conscientious insistence on only the best: the book was falling apart, re-glue no use, so she stitched it together.

PLEB DOUSER ~ I'm being fanciful in this foto to the left.
Ive rested the book against a dragon-fish my mother brought from China.
Mandarin houses had them at each corner of the rooves: the open tails would catch the monsoon rain and it would gush out of the mouth on the pedestrian plebs below.
$1,000s and thousands, they're worth now. Mum brought some back and this one is on the patio and another at a corner of the pool where dogs and daughters can drink if they're thirsty.
PIMP MY DAD'S DICTIONARY: there's another example of Victoria's work, my saintèd dad's dictionary that he used in his studentia at Bradford Grammar and then at Sidney Sussex, Cambridge.
Look at the wonderful restoration. The lush block leather is a joy to handle.
I took it to Oxford and later insisted my literate daughters use.

"But, daad! It doesn't give the word!"

'Fie, child, in that case it must be one of your 'modern' words. A plague on it! Choose another!'

It was printed in the early 1930s. No excuse.
It has some marvelous creaky definitions which I would read out to my techie colleagues at Amazon.

"Dude! That is like a must in the FAQ."

Project Maria

KALO HIMONA!

"So farewell, Jimmy 'Slow-spade' Potts!
Back to Blighty, are we? I'll miss your
Friendly smile and genial comments.
The anons aren't always that obvious
But Keith's mum says yes, they're definitely you.

ALL ALONG THE WATCHTOWER ~ I have the perfect vantage for repelling boarders - mum's old desk. I can see anyone arriving and duck before they've turned the corner and focused ahead on my window.One of the smarmy gang of mater's gardenry grovelers turned up just before nine - prolly hoping i was still in the seven sleapers or doing business in town.
With a friend, was her excuse, but my face showed the displeasure: she is one of the 'banished' simperers in the court of Marge who was happy to be waited on hand and foot and make no effort to contribute.
So many did help and speak out to make my life a little less servile - not to mention save my mother looking too much the high-handed self-referential gardenry gabbler - that I treat myself to closing the gate to the more egregious uriahs.
This lot wanted to look round the garden and so i took the opportunity to catch up on Fany de Bono's latest last-ditch effort to make his property saleable. He broke ground on this ill-fated condo three years ago and has endlessly modified it to no avail.
It was from Fany's father that my parents bought the land for San Luca and we've been vague friends ever since.

When the project was new, Fany came up to beg some plants and advice for the greening of his project. Mum was friendly and practical and said he could take what he wanted but Greeks didnt garden. Fany and scoffed and said 'maybe they dont garden like you' but maman was right and four months into construction there was a volte face and the spaces in the front for flowers were 'dozed up for more practical carports and whatever.The friend of the 'untouchable' was visiting from England and didn't know the background to my grim expression. The Corfu host made the mistake of referring to my servitude as a joke and the garden-loathery drummed into me as a passing phase.

"We all felt a bit sorry for poor Chris-"
"Actually, no you didn't," I butted in, turning to the visitor and explaining, "it was rather like the Jimmy Savile story - plenty of people knew but didnt bloody say anything. Now of course with my mother gone, out they come from the woodwork (meaningful look at the wankerene) but it's too late. The worm has turned."

The funny thing was that the local lady hadnt kept up with the news - they don't in the ghetto [in the ghettoo; good song cue. Notice how El pronounces the Ts. English imitators dont get it right, they try their pathetic American accent on 'ghe-e-ddo'] - and got increasingly worried as I brought her up to speed with Sir Jim's filly fondling low-down ways.(Not for long, they said, but hold! Death has a sting)

OK, back to plain *Mister* Savile. That means Dad is plain Mr Holmes (which he wont mind, he never used or abused it) BUT ... mum back to Mrs Holmes? Erm ...

St Peter: sir ... that new gardener? ... you dont have to keep calling her 'lady' ....

Le Bon Dieu: i *know* that, ffs, but you try dropping her title ... that withering 'pleb' look? Just LEAVE it, for My son's sake! Im already in the dog house letting Capability Brown transplant the Burning Bush away from the unicorn corral.
"Ooh, i dont think your mother would like to be talked about like that ..."
I gave her my gimlet Paddington 'look': "Really? Petunias ... paedos ... don't see much difference, m'self"
The guest looked suitably at sea.
JIM WILL FUCK IT ~ I have a Savile story: when i was handling PR for Fred. Muller in the late 1960s, i promoted 'Rufus - story of a fox', adorable creature that his keeper brought down from Pitlochry to take around the TV shows. Absolutely tame and i used to hold him as we walked along - I tell you, quite an ego trip sauntering down Oxford Street with a fox in ones arms. Never budged as dogs either side would totally freak. Don said it was his reynardine scent.
Anyway, we went to a hospital where we took R round the wards and let the children stroke him. Savile happened to be there and came round to see who was stealing his thunder and asked me to take Rufus into an empty room because he wanted to show him to a 'friend' - a pretty young blonde - and asked to be left alone with her. I said no way was i letting Rufus off his lead and Savile said he looked tame enough and made to stroke him. Rufus let out a growl and suddenly looked like a wild thing.
"It's the cigar smoke," quipped Savile but i had never seen him like that and when Don came back i mentioned this and he didnt believe me.
I never liked Savile, something distinctly not right about him - OK, something sinister and disgusting.
Loipon, the intruder asked "Shall i make us a cuppa?" to which i apologised, "Best not. Tasia is making me a briam today and i dont like to disturb her." Talk about rude.
So off they pissed and i did my favourite slight of waving once and immediately walking back inside.
I rolled my eyes at Tasia as walked thru the kitchen and she giggled. Mireille was here one day, speaks fluentish greek from the usual abusive marriage and being banished to the mountains. I'd seen off another ghetto grottie and was sniffing appreciatively the mousaká she'd prepared for our lunch. 'Not staying?' asked T as the car graunched down the drive.
"Tell her they stayed too long as it was" but Tasia caught my drift and giggled. Mireille said sternly something about me being soo rude; laughter all round.

Guitar - i've found the perfect acoustics, in the hall on the stairs where the sound echoes up. T very amused by my strumming and yet another axe. Her elder son plays but not well and she asked if he could come round and just hear, to which i said fisiká. He stood nervously so i handed him the Ovation and told him to stick on A. He looked nervously out to where his mum was sweeping. His english is good and i caid 'Cmahn! My house now.' He was not good so i handed him the Encore and told him to fool with it as i went off and pootled around. Tas' looked nervous so i got Nikos to translate that i smashed my axes every night, like all true bluesmen do.
Masses of mails so i'll end here.

LES PATTERSON DOES HONG KONG

Dame Edna's cultural attaché other half gets right to the hub nub of glorious old Hong Kong.

CLASSIC BRIT AWARDS

- sickening sham -

Ha ha! A palpable hit. Bravo, that man.

Morley's blog.

CARDIE SMARTIE

My mother would snaffle away my good gear to bundle up for my bro' when he visited. I got wise.I saw where she hid the wonderful multi-colored pullie I'm wearing and simply produced it a few days before my bro was arriving and asked what the deuce it was doing in the 'theft chest'.
'Well, it looked a little small on you the last time you were it, and anyway i can't remember when i bought it. it must have been at least three years ago in London. in fact, i think i originally bought it for Pete'
She owned unrattle-ability when busted.

Moi: OK, i bought it last month at the church Nearly-New. This is the first time I've worn it. It fits perfectly. It was donated by Anthony Stevens and we laughed at the time at its 'flamboyance'. Perfect for me.We need to sort out the thefts from the dementia absent-mindedness.
The price of camp cardies is eternal vigilance.

STAIRCASE BLUES - i was waiting for a fone call and plunking on the 'strat' (lower case coz it aint) and the acoustics were amazing: brittle echo all the way up the staircase.also, ace shadows ...

"Nnggh ... Sittin' here in cool shadows, pretending i got a mean mean rider, asprawl upstairs in bed,
Gotta love that Shads-style shadow, brittle acoustics, staircase curving past my head
Canceled Sun studios, gonna lay them tracks down
Right here in Corfu instead"

Lord have merceh, but i won't tell lanky Jimbo, pretend i was down in Tupelo, nngghh.

MISSION MARIA ~ attended the Kirk, just to say farewell to the Gullands. Knew it would be a good day. Mary warned me, 'the Pottses are here, but Jim is sitting next to her.' Didnt faze me, went right over and snogged her just the same.
I love Maria. She said she woke each dawn and rushed to the puter to read my latest blog scurrility.
As she left, she trilled out for all to hear, "Remember, Chreess, think of me last thing at night."
I preened. Now to think up some blogois worthy of her scrambling to the puter.

Speaking of the blues man, got a lovely one of him - legs astretched, talking to his bassist about getting more oomph into the third bar.

BLUES CONNECTION

Getting stunning clarity from Tune In radio channel.

Browse by genre

Alight on something like RadioIO

HOTEL CALIFORNIA

... and a damn'd good version

Death not a full stop

... merely a hyphen.

Wasn't actually looking for a heading; I'd thought I'd call it 'theft alley' or some such, then my eye was caught by this good line so I thought I'd punch it in.

These photos are taken from what would have been the viewpoint of my mother as she stood by her chest-of-drawers in what I came to call Thief Alley.It is in fact the connecting walk-in wardrobe that separates what is my bedroom (from which I'm peering) from what used to be my mother's bedroom.

Before the theft of my daughters' heirloom jewels on or around early morning of April 6th, 2007, I didnt bother that much with the wardrobe: I stored clothes there and, on one of the shelves, a box of my entire 40-year collection of cufflinks, tie pins and general knickknacks.It was the safest place I could think of.
After my mother had filched my jewels when i wasnt looking - i estimate around 2am of the day of departure to Venice - to take them over to my brother's place ('Villa Thefti'), I became lynx-eared for movements in Alley Thefti, especially around the thieving hours of early morn - and would time my entrance for maximum drama and effort.

I would take interested (or incredulous) parties from all sections of the island to show them the corridor and mimed so well my part in catching her 'red-handed' that people would laff and ask me to recreate the hilarious scene with camera and pose.

My younger daughter in particular never tired of my recreating the scene.

I'd be woken by my mother's scufflings, usually the sound of her rearranging her jewel box.

I would burst in the room when I judged maman to be at a key moment and explain my wakefulness and stealth on being keen to avoid another mishap such as the snaffling of the girls' treasures.

The air of guilt was hilarious and of course the place reeked of memories of the April 2007 thieving. [to be continued, but i'm glad to have at least started on this post, perhaps the first in a reconstruction of some of the key moments over the years ]

Good Grik Songs

Strolling thru Corfu Bluesman, came across this list of best-of-breed songs. Have made a start but must next go in and see if there's a way of bypassing some of the raucous ads that precede some songs, and also check that I've successfully tagged the right songs according to the Bluesman.

Dromoi Palloi (Zorbala)

Mera Magiou (Kayaloglou)

Kleista Parathira (Kayaloglou)

Asma Asmaton (Farantouri)

Marina (Farantouri)

To traino fevgi stis okto (Dimitriadi)

Sotiria Bellou, O Naftis

Sotiria Bellou, San Pethano sto Karavi

Bellou and Tsitsanis

Stelios Kazantzidis

Ena to Helidoni , G.Vithikotsis

Crippled my generation

A mother sighs

STAND BY ME

give this a chance to pick up pace.

Presidential Debate

~ songified ~

Tasìa was in the bedroom making my bed etc (spoiled boy that i am) and had to listen to me hooting with laughter.

These auto-tune wizards are geniuses.

Muffins in Congress

Corfu

~ A Tale of Two Islands ~

Episode: 1 of 8

When: Thursday, 11 October 2012

UK Time: 10:35PM - 11:05PM

I can't believe I haven't burbled about this before ...

'A Tale Of Two Islands’ [no one understands the title, we all disagree] follows expats and holidaymakers from all walks of life; rich and poor, young and old, English and Greek, in a country that relies on tourism to survive, but is in the throes of economic meltdown.

Corfu is a microcosm of Britain on a Mediterranean island.

The programme tells the story of an island caught on the cusp of two cultures, whilst trying to cope with economic uncertainty.

From my hovering around Facebook/Corfu Grapevine, I picked up this report from a subscriber:

"A taster for the first episode of Corfu:A Tale Of Two Islands.(Looks like it will be quite interesting instead of the normal Kavos stuff!!)

A fascinating new eight-part documentary series which takes a look at this popular getaway through the eyes of the people who holiday there, and the many who make their living through tourism on the island. [Now i read it, seems like just blurb lifted from a hand-out]

Corfu can accommodate a broad cross-section of people as a holiday destination attracting everyone from the super rich to the budget holidaymakers who both share the island in the peak season.

In the first programme, we are introduced to Sally who came to work in Corfu as a holiday rep, and now plans weddings for visitors.

We also meet a real-life Shirley Valentine. Mary travelled to Corfu in the 1980s and is now celebrating 25 years of marriage with her Greek husband."

The crew were here for some time in July and very nice and friendly they were, too.

They filmed all over the island, including Kovtokoli's Navigators bar and of course me. I wasn't too shame-makingly drunk but nor was I reticent and they found my accent dinosaur-posh Queen's regulation received English ... and understandable.

Not the best hour to watch it at many of the bars and hotels who are showing it (specially the bits they are in), but i am plugging my laptop into my mega-inch screen and watching and guffawing from home over some good bottles of wine.