Sarlata Woman Bares Bum in Argostoli - Shock-horror!
Our next-door neighbour Jayne, has a morbid fear of dentists, hospitals and the like (she’s also bonkers, but that’s a whole book). A couple of weeks ago, Carole and I were just settling down for a quiet afternoon when the phone rang. “I’ve had a bit of an accident, can you come round?”. Jayne is always redecorating, so we naturally assumed she’d fallen off a ladder or something, but no: when Carole arrives, she finds Jayne dripping with blood, and slightly less than coherent. It transpires that Jayne (who is the world’s worst cook - and that’s yet another whole book) has decided to make apple pies. Now to be fair, if there’s one thing she can cook, it’s apple pies, so what on earth can have happened? It turns out that she left the cupboard door open, bent down to get something, and when she stood up she stabbed herself in the forehead with the bolt that holds the door handle on: she’s ripped a big hole in her forehead and probably given herself concussion as well.

Jayne is practically hysterical with fear: not of the injury itself, but at the thought that she might have to go to hospital. “You can fix it can’t you Carole - it just needs sticking back together, PLEASE don’t make me go to the hospital”.

Carole takes one look at the damage and insists that stitches are necessary. When Jayne continues to protest, we call Stavroula for a second opinion. Stavroula is our landlord’s daughter and a junior nurse. She is adamant: Jayne is going to hospital, so with much wailing, off they go. At the hospital, they stitch up her head, and tell her she needs a Tetanus shot. They don’t have it at the hospital, so she will have to go to the pharmacy to get the prescription, then return for the jab. The hospital twice in one day? This is too much for Jayne, who’s ready to flee the island at this point, until Stavroula suggests that perhaps they can persuade the pharmacist to administer the injection.

At the pharmacy, Jayne asks the man if he will give her the injection. He smiles, “Of course, no problem”. She rolls up her sleeve. He smiles again, and shakes his head: he is looking meaningfully at her backside. Jayne is thinking fast: “What knickers did I put on this morning? Can I face another trip to the hospital?”

In the end, fear wins out over dignity, and she goes behind the counter and drops her keks. The male customers suddenly find that there are lots of interesting products behind the counter, and are pressing forward. But Jayne doesn’t care, given the choice between that and a trip to the hospital, she’d rather bare her bum in Argostoli.

Don’t get jumbled up.
Two days before the jumble sale, Carole from Sarlata had a room full of jumble donations. Now she knew she had to transport the large sacks to Svoronata but didn’t fancy making half a dozen trips. Time was running out and she wanted to make her delicious lemon curd to sell at the sale. To save time, and knowing that we had much more jumble than we could possibly cope with on the day, Carol decided to have her own mini jumble at home. This meant she could make money for the charity, get rid of some of the load she had to transport, and at the same time make her batches of lemon curd.

Carol spread the word to the women in the village, letting them know they could come and root through the jumble whenever they wanted. Sure enough, it was a great idea except Carol had accidentally hung her coat in the same room as the jumble. One woman tried on the coat, which was a perfect fit and Carol didn’t have the heart to tell the lady it wasn’t for sale. 

Left in the cold Carol, but your donation warmed our hearts (except for Janice’s who didn’t get to buy a jar of lemon curd).