It's quarter to eight in the morning and the promised cooler weather has arrived. The mountains opposite are swathed in mist, with their tops covered by low cloud. The air feels different, and I can believe it might rain.
Last night I thought it had. I had just uploaded my last blog post and was getting ready to go to bed when I heard loud water noises from outside. I looked out of the door and saw there was water pouring off the roof; so much that the steps and entrance area were flooding. I thought "Crikey, what a cloudburst!" and stood staring at it for a moment. Then I remembered I had a line of washing out, and I went scurrying to rescue that from the balcony.
Where it was not raining at all.
I walked back and forth several times in confusion, thinking stupidly "Rain? No rain?" before I realised it had to be something else. In my defence, it was 11 pm and I'd had quite a tiring day. Also water pouring off the roof is blessedly not something I've had to deal with before.
I texted the owner, Mr Kaikas, who arrived shortly afterwards; looking as dapper as ever but just ever-so-slightly perturbed as he explained that there was a burst water pipe and he was going to have to turn the water off at the mains. Which would mean the whole of Block B would have no water supply, and I (& the other two couples of guests) would have to move.
If you've ever wondered how you'd cope if you were told "Get out of your home, you have twenty minutes max!", this is a good scenario to test your skills in that respect. I shoved things haphazardly into carrier bags and into the top of my case, emptied my fridge, grabbed the line still full of washing and bunged that all into another bag. It felt quite surreal.
When I stepped outside, the marble-paved terrace outside the door was dripping wet, but the waterfall from above had stopped. Mr Kaikas came and helped me with my things, and in a couple of minutes I was in my new studio - which has turned out to be an apartment for 4. The extra space is decidedly odd. I left Mr Kaikas to wait for the other Block B guests to return from their evening out, and did a little desultory unpacking, and fell into my new bed. I didn't get to sleep until well after 1.00am, though; too much adrenaline in the system, I suppose.
Then, irritatingly, this morning I was woken at 6.00 by my newly-acquired neighbours putting on the BBC News. With the volume up loud. It seems they are both early risers and telly addicts (the television has stayed on constantly ever since).
The clouds are getting lower and thicker by the minute; it's rather beautiful, in a moody kind of way. The light instead of bright and crystalline is soft and muted. The distinctive noise of a rubbish truck progresses along the sea-front road; how very Monday-ish. All my insect bites are itching furiously. I need to get up, find out how my new shower works, and get on. I know I'll feel more human with some breakfast inside me.
Last night I thought it had. I had just uploaded my last blog post and was getting ready to go to bed when I heard loud water noises from outside. I looked out of the door and saw there was water pouring off the roof; so much that the steps and entrance area were flooding. I thought "Crikey, what a cloudburst!" and stood staring at it for a moment. Then I remembered I had a line of washing out, and I went scurrying to rescue that from the balcony.
Where it was not raining at all.
I walked back and forth several times in confusion, thinking stupidly "Rain? No rain?" before I realised it had to be something else. In my defence, it was 11 pm and I'd had quite a tiring day. Also water pouring off the roof is blessedly not something I've had to deal with before.
I texted the owner, Mr Kaikas, who arrived shortly afterwards; looking as dapper as ever but just ever-so-slightly perturbed as he explained that there was a burst water pipe and he was going to have to turn the water off at the mains. Which would mean the whole of Block B would have no water supply, and I (& the other two couples of guests) would have to move.
If you've ever wondered how you'd cope if you were told "Get out of your home, you have twenty minutes max!", this is a good scenario to test your skills in that respect. I shoved things haphazardly into carrier bags and into the top of my case, emptied my fridge, grabbed the line still full of washing and bunged that all into another bag. It felt quite surreal.
When I stepped outside, the marble-paved terrace outside the door was dripping wet, but the waterfall from above had stopped. Mr Kaikas came and helped me with my things, and in a couple of minutes I was in my new studio - which has turned out to be an apartment for 4. The extra space is decidedly odd. I left Mr Kaikas to wait for the other Block B guests to return from their evening out, and did a little desultory unpacking, and fell into my new bed. I didn't get to sleep until well after 1.00am, though; too much adrenaline in the system, I suppose.
Then, irritatingly, this morning I was woken at 6.00 by my newly-acquired neighbours putting on the BBC News. With the volume up loud. It seems they are both early risers and telly addicts (the television has stayed on constantly ever since).
The clouds are getting lower and thicker by the minute; it's rather beautiful, in a moody kind of way. The light instead of bright and crystalline is soft and muted. The distinctive noise of a rubbish truck progresses along the sea-front road; how very Monday-ish. All my insect bites are itching furiously. I need to get up, find out how my new shower works, and get on. I know I'll feel more human with some breakfast inside me.
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