No Flies on us! - An everyday story of Roy and Margarita cc 1991

Kafenion Kalamitsi Alexandrou

No flies on us

“Drat!” exclaimed Margaret as she gave another swipe with her swatter “Bother these flies” it was a hot sultry afternoon, the mountains lying dreamily in the haze, the faint sound of the church bells drifting across the fields. In the kitchen of the cottage that they had lovingly restored in the tiny village of Kalamitsi Alexandrou.

Village square

 Roy and Margaret were preparing their afternoon tea. Margaret put the electric kettle on to boil. In the winter they would be using their old kettle on the permanently lit wood stove, but now, in the summer, those days were a long way off. The locals thought that they were slightly eccentric drinking tea at all, but the habits of a lifetime living in Wales are not that easy to change.

White haired, Roy was a tallish man with a military bearing, sporting a tidy white moustache; it was easy to guess that he had been in the Royal Air Force. Margaret had come to Crete a small and petite woman, but would be the first to admit that the good Cretan food had begun to take its toll on her waistband.

Roy and Margaret had moved to Crete some fifteen years before, after taking early retirement and now lived down a little lane with only one other house nearby. They drove an old white Citroen Pony called Myfanwy with a big Welsh dragon emblazoned on the front – not easy to mistake.

Another swipe at the errant bluebottle.

“How I hate these flies” ejaculated Margaret giving another even more violent wave with the fly swatter. Wallop! It hit the kettle “Now see what’s happened” she cried. Roy came over; he could see that the switch on the kettle had broken.

“Never mind” he commiserated “the kettle still works; we will just have to switch it off manually until we can take it to town to be fixed. It’s not the end of the world.”

“We have to go next week anyway” sighed Margaret, “we can take it in then.”

The following week found them in a small electrical shop in Hania, some twenty six kilometers away.

It was a small shop full of appliances, parts and a miscellany of unidentifiable boxes. The man behind the counter was helpful and spoke a little English. He was short like most Cretans, with a shock of white hair but a suspiciously dark moustache.

“Grecian 2000” whispered Margaret

“You mean Cretan 2000” chortled Roy.

It was soon ascertained that the kettle would have to go off to Athens to be repaired and would take about ten days. Having asked how much the repair would be Roy decided to pay there and then.

“Was that wise?” Margaret asked him “I mean, to pay in advance?”

“Oh yes I think so ,” he replied, “the Cretans are a very honest race”

So, for the next ten days they boiled water in a small saucepan, until dawned the morning of their next visit to Hania.

“So sorry.” said the shopkeeper, “It is not ready yet, come back in another ten days”. Ten days later the same story,

“So sorry, ten days.” This pattern was repeated so often that it became a bit of a joke each time they went to the shop.

“It would have been easier to buy a new one.” complained Margaret.

Eventually, after about six months, the day dawned that the kettle was ready for collection.

Joyfully they took it home filled it and switched it on. They both watched as it gradually warmed up. The teapot was at the ready, the cups and saucers on the table waiting to be filled with the fragrant beverage. Fresh scones stood warm and inviting then, slowly, as they watched, the new switch wobbled and fell off onto the table.

“What the!” exclaimed Roy, he carefully examined the kettle, “After six months of waiting our kettle has been repaired using sellotape!” He couldn’t help laughing “When it heated up the tape melted.”

“Put the saucepan on” groaned Margaret “Or better still, pour me a large Vodka and Tonic!”

Kalamitsi Alex.