One day Chris was being rowed back to the boat after treasure hunting on ‘our ‘ little beach. She suddenly squealed with delight and pointed to oysters standing upright on the bottom. Joel yelled…’go on mum’, so I retrieved a couple and Chris awaited the pearls. Alas, nothing but slimey, salty stuff. However, as I smile and remember Chris and this treasure hunt, the many pearls we DID find, come flooding into my memory….here are a few:
A company of shearwater in an empty sea; eating our first meal on Greek sand; safely tying up after 12 hours at sea and being told in a brimming German accent, ‘what beautiful toenails!’ Our first meal in a little Greek home with new friends; Terry’s face as he careered off to the ticket office on the back of Vangelis’ scooter; arriving back after two weeks in UK to the welcome of a ( random) orchestra playing in the town square; finding the boat by moonlight; Matina in the bread shop and another Matina at her taverna; taking Tristan and Heather to the anchorage and watching them unwind; TP offering to do Biscay after Terry pulled out; listening to music in a prophetic sunrise with Abbie and Tim; fava with gorgeous fresh bread and setting sun in Perdika; peeping at two sleeping grandsons through the hatch; getting a ‘nudge’ to stop at Meze Meze and doing just that; choosing from 47 flavours in the ice-cream shop; finding a shopkeeper whose eyes shone with love for Jesus; bumping into Nicoletta on her scooter and realising we have a friend here; the first walk across the passarelle; turning to see Poros lit up on a dark night; the shadow of Simon at ‘the nurses station’ talking to a passing ship on the radio in pitch dark; laughing with Charlie about Downton Abbey whilst sailing without sight of land or ships; Joel shouting at Simon from up the mast; cutting through the waves at 9 knots and remembering how we used to think 5 was the biz when the kids were small and we all crammed into 28ft; the wonderful love and support of friends who came to celebrate and bless Rope Sole before we left; finding a baby tortoise on the Bisti. Coming home…..and looking forward to going back.
And so it goes on…memories written down to be kept alive.
