El Arte de la Música

Yesterday after finishing work, I got dressed and headed off with Mr Zeus to fulfil my dream of seeing Buena Vista Social Club in concert at the open-air Braxon Theatre.

And what a concert it was! True to the rules of a superb performance, they got the crowd involved singing along and left the absolute best till last.

Last night, when they closed their encore with Dos Gardenias, it was a very special moment, an epiphany of sorts. "Wow," I thought, "How completely different my life is between hearing this track for the first time 4 years ago, alone and miserable in a rented house in Cardiff, and hearing it live, happy and content in Athens of all places."

Muchos besos Buena Vista Social Club, you were GREAT!

Image: from http://www.cineguns.com/divers/cinema/affiches/af00088.jpg

Hairy Godmother

Sunday morning I was in panic mode, trying to get my masses of curly hair washed and presentable and trying to keep my all-white ensemble clean. I managed the first but not the second. White is really not my colour, I had stained the trousers before even reaching the venue.

We picked up my godson, who was in a good mood, and headed off to get toasted in his outdoor baptism. All was well. And then we met the priest.

Let me tell you, religious heads of any kind scare me because I was schooled in the Home Country where religious education is compulsory. Being a bigoted fanatic was part of the curriculum, and so I just don't like being around those types. They draw too many dividing lines between people.

The priest was a jolly Santa-Clausy sort of fellow who asked first of all, in a grave voice, if me and Mr Zeus were married. Uh no, but we're working on it! Ah, he said. Good. And the girl is Christian, correct?

I confess that there, in the Church, Mr Zeus lied on my behalf and said "Yes". Now I know people like Anonymous will probably take great offence to a heathen like me sneaking my way to godmother status but I don't buy into the "My God's bigger than your God" mentality. I believe there's only one God.

Besides, I ended up knowing more about the baptism customs than Mr Zeus thanks to my research, so I was a better fake Christian than he is a real one.

Best of all, because it was a private ceremony I didn't have to read out the Greek prayer. There were various things which I had to repeat after the priest that were explained to me later. It was all very short and intense, ending with the godparents presenting back the baby to his parents, baptised, oiled and dressed in new clothes. That bit was best, not because by then my godson was crying hysterically and wriggling out of my arms, but because I felt established as a part of his life.

So that is how I became an official illegal godmother. Godparenting is a huge deal in Greece, and might I add a very profitable business! Part of the reason things went so smoothly is because we crossed the priest's palm generously as it is customary for godparents to make a donation to the church. Just a tip to keep in mind...

Image: http://movies.sulekha.com/moviepics/godmother1.jpg

Dear Anonymous

If you don't like my blog, don't read it! What part of that don't you understand? Stop leaving bitchy comments on my blog, I'm not publishing them because I don't have to. In the same way you don't have to read my blog if you don't like it.

Guilty Secrets

"You're an old soul." people have told me. It could just be that I'm an old person trapped in a young person's body, if my listening habits are anything to go by.

At about 6pm every day my ears strain for the sounds of Mr Zeus coming home. When I hear him, like a teenager frantically stubbing out an illicit cigarette, I turn down the volume on the computer speakers and close my guilty windows.

You see, I am a closet BBC Radio 4 listener. Being able to access it online has been part of the reason why I am now settling down so well in Athens.

It all began when I developed a crush on someone that bordered on the obsessive. I had just moved to London, and had just come out of a period of depression, so I think my obsession became a hobby to occupy me before I developed a social life. Or, indeed, a life of any description.

Anyway, I discovered this person had a habit of leaving the radio on at night tuned to Radio 4, so I started doing the same, in some sort of creepy attempt to reach him over the airwaves. Not surprisingly, my stalkerish affections were rejected, but the habit stayed with me.

For almost the entire time I lived in London, I would end my day by lying in bed and listening to the creamy rolls of posh English on BBC Radio 4, learning all kinds of things on their documentary slots and using the shipping forecast as my cue that it was late enough to go to sleep.

These days I leave the radio on while I work. The theme to the Archer's, which once upon a time was reason for me to laugh out loud at ridiculous Middle England, now has me listening carefully: Really? So and so is sleeping with so and so? But she never seemed the type! Who'd have thought!

Mr Zeus disapproves because he thinks it prevents me from learning Greek. I think secretly he's more worried that I'll morph into a pearl and pastel twin-set wearing middle aged woman.

So that's my guilty secret. I love listening to BBC Radio 4 and no one can stop me!

Image: http://images.jupiterimages.com/common/detail/83/58/22595883.jpg

People of a Nervous Disposition...

... shouldn't attempt to be freelance journalists.

Every rejection sends me to the pit of despair, making me want to set my portfolio on fire and enrol in medical college.

Image: http://images.jupiterimages.com/common/detail/92/00/23210092.jpg

Hotter! Hotter!

Getting that melting feeling? You and everyone else in Athens!

The temperature yesterday at 9:45 am when I was on my way to Dafni to try find something to wear to a baptism this Sunday (more on that later) was 33C. It wasn't even 10 in the morning!

The weekend is set to usher in temperatures topping 41C. The morning news has a dedicated slot for the heatwave, advising not to go out between certain hours, carry water with you, stay covered up etc etc. Everyone is popo-ing and ach aching at the scorching heat.

But since I have no tolerance to cold weather whatsoever, I am in heaven. So as long as I am observing from a safe distance, i.e. not actually standing out in the sun, I am happy happy happy. These high 30s and low 40s are what I grew up with and I feel goooood!

Summers should be like curries, not so hot that they obliterate everything but hot enough to make you sweat. Let's take it to the limit! Keep going! Hotter! Hotter! Yipeeeeeee!

As for the baptism, I admit that I am stressed out. I meet none of the guidelines of who can be a Greek Orthodox godparent, I have to convince the priest that I am Greek Orthodox or at least Christian, and so I can't wear this or this to avoid provoking them, and to top it all off I have to read out a pretty hefty prayer in Greek infront of everyone.

I keep pronouncing the Greek word for God (theos) like the Greek word for Uncle (theios). 'Son of Uncle'... hmmm, doesn't quite have the right ring to it. Let's not even get into how to pronounce words like συμπροσκυνούμενον or συνδοξαζόμενον.

Image: from http://meltingman.co.uk/images/banner.jpg

My Nomadic Life

There's a rule that goes plant, pet, person. If you can take care of a plant, you can move on to a pet. If you can take care of a pet, you can move on to a person. In which case I'm not doing very well. The dog is sick with a human cold bug which I, quite disturbingly have also caught off him.

The worst fate that could befall any living organism is to be a plant in my vicinity. Very often I'll take them to the brink of death before remembering they exist and frantically watering everything. To the plant gods, I’m sorry.

It’s now been one year and a few days since I officially moved to Athens and things are finally better. I’m not anywhere near expert in Greek, but I can follow and participate in conversations, make and appreciate jokes and other such delights. My life is totally transformed.
If you’re planning to move to Greece, don’t underestimate the power of learning the language. Most of the population of Athens does speak English, but this way you’ll just skip across the surface of Greek life. To really integrate, you HAVE to learn Greek.

I’ve also reconciled my cultural identity. My parents are from two different South Asian countries. I was born in the UK but grew up in the Homeland. Then we moved back to the UK. “So where are you from?” was never a one word answer for me, and never will be. Here in Athens, things got even more confusing for me. Just as I had reconciled who I was in the UK, I moved to Greece and felt like I had to start all over again.

There were times when people asked me where I was from and I replied “I don’t know any more!” which made them think I couldn’t understand the question so they asked in English and got the same answer. Mr Zeus had to endure Bollywood tunes uncut, blazing hot curries and depression over not finding fresh coriander.

I went through weeks of rejecting everything Greek, then everything English, then everything Homelandy, trying somewhere to find something that fitted.

But now I’ve realised my identity doesn’t depend on what I eat, wear or listen to. I am happy that I can appreciate a table being set for dinner with no cutlery, or 6 metres of fabric being turned into an elegant dress without a single cut or stitch, just as easily as I can appreciate wearing denim shorts on a hot day or knowing how to pick good olive oil from bad.

Image: Copyright of Edward Monkton

Food = Spots

Here's an update. My low-processed sugar diet has resulted in me bounding around full of energy, but the rebel forehead spots still refuse to shift camp.

I've gradually reduced one food item or the other to try and identify what is it that is causing these spots and I've finally figured out what it is. It's food. Food gives me spots. If I cut out Food from my diet, I should be spot-free. Yes!!

(Mum, I'm joking)

Image: http://www.victorystore.com/signs/property_management/images/nofood-1.gif

Under My Umbrella Ela Ela

Sorry for my silence on the blogosphere lately. I'm currently out of Greece in the UK, leaving just as the rainy weather in Athens was due to end and landing myself in the middle of gray skies and sad faces.

I held up okay until yesterday when the cemented-over skies plunged me into acute melancholy. At least the weather is better today and I am spending time with my family which I never get to do often enough.

In the last month I finally feel like I passed the biggest hurdles in living in Greece. So that took me pretty much one year to get past the tears, tantrums, doubts and hysterics. Athens now feels like home, and I feel I have come back to something closer to what I grew up with.

A lot of times when something about Athens was getting on my nerves I'd say "I don't understand, Greece is in the EU, why is XYZ like this?" until a friend said: "Bollybutton, you have to remember that Greece may be in the EU but it isn't really European. It's more towards the East in location and mentality"

I hope for my own sake that I really am past the hardest bits now. Settling in a new country takes a lot of energy which I'd rather spend writing my future best-selling novel.

This trip to the UK completely snuck up on me, and so on the night before I left Mr Zeus and me could be found in a local taverna moaning about my ogre-sized carbon footprint and how we didn't manage to buy a galaktoboureko for my family to try.

Well I won't let a small thing like that stop me. If you want to make a Greek custard pie (galaktoboureko) here is the recipe I used to impress my family.

Image: http://i34.photobucket.com/albums/d141/muas_one/ArtCatchMyRain11_6_06.jpg

Monsoon Athens

Sitting on the balcony last night, I couldn't deny that summer is well and truly here. The child next door, who was a toddler when I first came to Athens, is now a full-blown anthropaki (little person) who you can have a conversation with while he munches on his icecream. The myna bird which I thought was dead is back out on the balcony opposite us. As you know, myna birds are great at mimicking sounds. This one has perfected the art of squealing like an excited child, since it lives in a house with an excited child. Every evening the street is perpetually filled with squeals of delight. Such a happy neighbourhood I live in!

The weather is about to change though. In a tribute to the Homeland, things are going to get stormy for the next few days. So don your best sari and flit about between trees as the one you love chases after you. Bring on the bottomless tea and samosas! Rain in the part of the Homeland where I grew up was so rare that my mother had a special menu she would prepare when it did rain. Sadly, 10 years in Britain changes my relationship with rain, but maybe living in Athens will take me back to the good old days when rain was a treat rather than a depressing event.

To refresh anyone who is moving to Athens, you can find a lot of useful info about learning Greek etc. at a previous post of mine: Advice from a Good Samaritan.

Image: http://www.fantastikasia.net/IMG/jpg/monsoon-wedding203.jpg

Eat sushi, not Men

On Monday it was mine and Sarbel’s birthday so we met up and discussed the finer points of his Eurovision performance on Saturday. Just kidding, though it was both our birthdays on the 14th.

Monday was my first Athens-based birthday ever, and it was great. Mr Zeus showered me with a huge bouquet of flowers and giant chocolate cake and took me downtown for some yummy sushi at Furin Kazan in Syntagma. Good Japanese food at prices that won’t bankrupt you.

I’ve noticed that whenever I go out with Mr Zeus, there are women who blatantly and shamelessly flirt with and make eyes at him. There’s nothing wrong with a bit of light-hearted flirting, we all do it, it makes us smile. But I find it the height of bad manners to act so coquettish and provocative when I am very clearly on a date with the man. They act like I’m not even there and it’s open season on trying to bag a catch.

Mr Zeus was mimicking their flirtatious gestures and tone of voice later on and I asked, “Why do they do that, do they like the challenge or something?”
“They don’t like the challenge. They LOVE the challenge,” he replied.

This has happened plenty of times before, but I guess that it happening on my birthday finally tipped my opinion over from “I don’t care” to “Actually, that’s not very nice”

To the ladies who keep doing that, you may be very pretty and have perfect hair and toenails, but learn some manners and show some respect. The good karma might pay you back one day. (I’m being polite, as you can see, but what I really want to say is; BACK OFF, BITCHES! FIND YOUR OWN!)

Further dampening my summer joy is the news that even though I think I have been making a supreme effort to speak more Greek since I dropped the Hellenic American Union classes, Mr Zeus out of the blue said last night that I’ve stopped trying to speak Greek and that when I do speak my Greek has got worse.

Boohoo! Must try harder.

Image: http://www.scenicsigns.com/catalog/images/R-025.jpg

Summer, sweet summer in Athens

If you live in Athens, look outside the window… wonderful, isn’t it?

The first hint that summer was around the corner came about a month ago when I was standing on the sidewalk waiting to cross the road, looking my usual dressed-in-the-dark self, and within 30 seconds two different men had cat-called me. This, my lovelies, is the phenomenon of the Greek summer.

It makes you half-blind, uninhibited and you do all kinds of things which the rest of the year you would know better than to do. And that’s why we LOVE it!!!

I was downtown this morning stocking up on some hair-removing essentials now that summer is here, braving the terrifying world of the Hondos Centre. I admit I have a childish and irrational anxiety around Greek women. Some of them look at me like I’m a little insect, and being in the heart of their home-turf is truly a test for ones nerves.

But a girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do. If Hercules thought Hydra was a bitch to get rid off, he’s lucky he never met my follicles. 10 years of waxing and they still refuse to give up the ghost. How I laugh when I see that stupid Veet advert on TV in which the girls pretend to wax their smooth as a baby's bottom legs. Should've hired me if you wanted visual impact, Veet.

Now I also have to pay some more attention to my habits if I want to see and be seen with any sense of self-worth. I like to think I’m above it, but I’ve got at least some shred of dignity to question my lifestyle of work-from-home-sitting-infront-of-the-computer-all-day-and-watch-my-thighs-spread.

So I cut out sugar from my diet, except for morning tea with one spoon of pure as a baby’s soul cane sugar from sugarcanes on my uncle’s fields in the Homeland. The rest of the day I supplement my sweet-tooth with apples.

This isn't just a health issue. I'm mostly doing it to try and irradicate a clutch of spots that have taken up residence on my forehead for so long now that they might as well declare themselves an independent state.

It’s one week now and my skin is looking much better but I’m developing an acute hatred of apples. I feel like a drug addict craving a fix. Thank God the laiki this time of year is full of perfectly ripe summer fruit like shiny red cherries and fragrant sweet strawberries.

None of this is of any use or interest to you whatsoever, but the next few weeks will be dedicated to all things Greek summery so you can get clued up. Kalo kalokairi!

Image: http://www.e-cart.biz/stores/vintage-metal-art/images/beachbabies.gif

Okay You Got Me

June makes one full year since I officially moved to Athens. So I guess that means that this is home now. Somehow it only occurred to me today.

I can do it. I found a rental shop tucked away downtown that sells double-movie Bollywood DVDs for €2. Who needs Mum's cooking!

Image: http://warchild13.com/images/images/CAPTIVE%20WILD%20WOMAN.jpg

We're Not Perfect

I am flagging this post well in advance to say that there is a chance I'm going to offend Greeks with it. If you're Greek and easily offended LOOK AWAY NOW! You've been warned, don't leave me offensive comments later.

This morning I was watching the news when a story popped up about two elderly nuns who have been strangled in a Greek monastery which was then robbed. It's terrible that two such peaceful women had to lose their lives in such a violent way. But I was very disappointed to see and hear the whole 'It must have been the Albanians' debate again.

Can we please agree that Greece is essentially just like any other society on the planet? There are good things and bad things, good people and bad people, well-adjusted people and a minority of psychotic social misfits with evil and murderous intentions - and yes, there is a chance that such a person is Greek and that such a person killed those two nuns. The 'Let's just blame the Albanians' thing is getting irritating, not to mention it's as racist as America's 'Let's just blame the Young Black Male.'

You can't say that because Greeks respect nuns too much they would never dream of doing such a thing and robbing the monastery afterwards. Every society has it's exceptions to the norm. If you were to follow the same rules, in a society like Greece which adores children, you would expect that children never, ever get molested or abused. But sadly this does happen, and sadly it does happen from Greek adults towards Greek children,because there are some members of society who don't respect any moral standards and yes, THEY COULD BE GREEK!

Let me please declare that I much prefer to live in Greece at the moment than any of my other options (Misogynist Homeland, Messed-up UK) I am not attacking Greece for the heck of it. I just want to say that being Greek doesn't put you above the depraved aspects of being a human being, and neither does being Albanian make you more prone to them. Also, I belong to an ethnic minority, and I can't say 'Well this is none of my business because I'm not Albanian', because tomorrow if the spotlight turns on my race, then what? Who's going to stand up for me and say 'Guys, let's all calm down a bit and think about this over a frappe, eh?' As much as I respect Greece and her culture, it would be irresponsible of me not to question the small details that can get so much worse if left to fester.

If the culprits of this incident turn out to genuinely be Albanian (and not just scapegoats) then fair enough. But nobody died and made us judge, jury and executioner.

Image: http://www.popartuk.com/g/l/lget4001.jpg

Athens Exchange is up!

Since some of you expressed interest in an online area where us folks in Athens could get rid of our clutter and make a little money, Athens Exchange is now up courtesy of yours truly. It works like this:

1. Email the address listed on the page (athensexchange@hotmail.com) with what you want to sell, your asking price, terms and contacts and I'll list it for you. Simple. You are then responsible for completing the transaction. It's FREE!
2. If you have a bad experience, use the comments function to flag up bad sellers, a bit like ebay
3. If you're unsure, take a look at the page and the first listing.

I am going to run it via the blog entry titles. Hence the first one there says Books. Each time I get a request to list a book, I'll update the post with the new items for sale. I'll see how that goes and find another way if it fails.

Please let people know about this so we can get it running!

Happy exchanging. Oh, and don't laugh at what athensexchange looks like as one word.

Oh No You Don't!

By the way, I forgot to add the tiny detail of being wrong-footed by Mr Zeus at Easter time when he asked my parents for permission to get engaged later this year while I was testing out my barbecue gear. Greasy, bedraggled hair and old clothes that stink of smoke, what a vision I was. That man's timing is OUTSTANDING.

Anyway, it ain't all happy houses. There's no way the Greek Orthodox Church is going to let me shack up with one of their flock unless I convert too, which I neither want nor feel the need to do, as I believe in one universal God. I don't think He cares what phoneline we call Him on, so what if my connection is different to yours?

We have time to kill before we need to seriously think about what exactly we're going to do. By a (divine) coincidence, the day after we'd been pondering the issue, we awoke to the spectacle of a Greek priest saying that in the future, those with political marriages (this is the only route we'd be able to take) will not be allowed to be godparents. Also their marriage isn't recognised by the church. I don't mind so much about not being a godparent, but I don't think it's fair to punish Mr Zeus like this. By the way, I am due to baptise my godson soon, and God help me if the priests kick up a fuss on the day about me not being Greek Orthodox. I love the kid! Just because I'm not Greek Orthodox doesn't mean I'm going to start training him to be a suicide bomber!

The Church is also pushing for a type of religious ID card to prove that you are Christian when applying to marry, to avoid charlatans like me trying to blag my way in. If we somehow worked out a way to get married in a Orthodox Church, I would need to sign a paper declaring my future children will be baptised as Greek Orthodox. Relax, homies, I beat you to that one already, since Greece is so homogenous when it comes to religion that I'd rather my future kids had a good start fitting in. If they take an interest in my religion when they grow up that's up to them.

It's okay though, since both of us are screwed if we get married without either one of us switching religions. I as a woman can't 'marry out' of my religion, so I'll be automatically ex-communicated, and he'll be religiously condemned too. At least we'll be together in hell.

For now, it's funny. I have a feeling though that this issue is going to turn out to be a real pain in the bum. I could convert I guess, and have my Dad reconvert me after the ceremony on the steps of the Church, ha ha ha!! You didn't think of that, did you Papa!

Image: From http://imagecache2.allposters.com/images/pic/MMPO/MyBigFatGreekWedding~My-Big-Fat-Greek-Wedding-Posters.jpg

Virtual Spring Cleaning

Ever feel weighed down by all the extra stuff in your house that you really don't need any more? I know I do. Sadly Greece doesn't seem to have a garage/carboot sale culture and so I can't find a profitable way of selling on my crap to other people. Mr Zeus says this is because people are shy about their neighbours knowing what they've got in the private folds of their apartment. 'Look at that toaster from 1975, times must be hard for Mr Popodopolous if they only JUST replaced it and are selling the old one.' That sort of thing.

I am ebay's number one customer in Athens I reckon, but I mean in buying terms. When it comes to selling, the price of posting things to customers in the UK or America is just too high to attract buyers.

Know what I mean? If you do,tell me what you think of this idea. I was thinking of setting up another blog page where we can advertise our stuff for sale. I wouldn't take a cut from it, it would literally be like an exchange and advertise page. You email me and I'll put your stuff plus a price and your contacts. I have a lot of things like books I've read and don't plan on reading again, DVDs, shoes etc.

Waiting to hear your opinions, we can start it up and take it from there. No one loses anything right?

By the way, the above idea is copyright of Bollybutton c. 2007 and I'll send the boys round if you steal it...

Image: http://www.swapmeetdave.com/Humor/Workshop/OL-Donkey-Cart.jpg

Athens in Spring

Mmmm what is it about a Mediterranean spring that makes you want to get naked and run through the orange groves?

While resisting my urges to be at one with nature, I am welcoming with open the arms the warmer tinge that the breeze has, the adoring caress of the spring sun and the evening breeze that is filled with the amazing scent of orange and lemon blossom.

The combination is wonderful. It's also very distracting and I'm not getting any work done.

Image: http://www.brewberg.com/Meadow%20frolicking.jpg

How to do Greek Easter in England

Did you all have a good Easter? I certainly did, complete with full roasting lamb. Let's not examine the fact that in England you can't buy a lamb with the head attached. You can buy the head separately and do what you wish with it. And thus on Easter two little lamb souls were watching from heaven and shaking their heads at the indignity of being roasted attached to someone else's head/body.

You don't get the huge roasting gear in England so I had to order it from a scrap metal company. I had made the appropriate phonecalls from Athens and located one that was willing to do it for me, and so off I went to draw them what I wanted, boldly asserting that the roasting stick had to be at least 2 metres 20. It went something like this:

"Are you sure you want it that big?"

"Yeah, it's got to be, I'm roasting a whole lamb"

When I turn up for collection my eyes pop out of my head when I see just how big 2 metres 20 is.

"It's uh... a bit big"

"You asked for it to be this big"

"Yeah I know"

No need to worry, it was just the perfect size. Greeks everywhere, be proud of me, this little South Asian who managed to order lamb-roasting gear in a small English town and get the proportions exactly correct.

In Greek Easter, size is everything. And so on Saturday it was off to the Arab butchers in Birmingham to buy our full lamb. They let Mr Zeus and my mum walk into the meat freezer to pick it for themselves and then he found a head that matched up nicely. Armed with our booty, we headed off for the preparations.

On Sunday about 15 of my cousins, aunties, uncles and friends turned up and howled with delight when they realised "Come over for some roasted lamb" meant literally an entire roasted lamb. There was lots of curtain twitching as curious neighbours wondered what their nut-case exotic neighbours were up to now. We had lifted some slabs out of the patio to make a fully fledged roasting pit, and faced with a barbecue of such epic proportions, no one else in the neighbourhood attempted to wheel out their little grills and face total humiliation.

It was a total success. Thank you, Greece, for transforming Easter from a boring Sunday trying to catch something interesting on TV into the party of the year. Jesus would have been most proud that you got a whole gang of non-Christians in on the act.

Image: From http://jan.moesen.nu/media/photos/2004/07/jhx-kernweekend-in-houffalize/20040710-barbecue-1.jpg

Unmarried at Easter

Happy Easter/Kalo Pasxa to you all! I know it's not easter yet, but exciting events abound mean I won't be able to post on the actual day. This is largely because I will be too stuffed to fit myself on the chair infront of the computer.

My trip to the Homeland went off without a hitch in every sense of the word. Not only did I come back unmarried, but I was able to brush off questions in that direction with an ease I never knew I had. Why, it almost bordered on Mr Zeus's aversion to marriage!
A greek friend once told me the only way to get a greek to marry you is to get pregnant. Riiiiight.... I think I'll save that one as Plan Z. But although I used the phrase "I'm not getting married" with the same emphasis as "I'm not getting leprosy", I can tell that everyone Back Home feels very sorry for me and my absolute lack of a marriage proposal. With each passing of Suitable Moments To Propose, like New Year's Eve, Valentine's Day, Monday, I can feel my mother's desperation and pity for me grow. She must sadly envision my reproductive system shrivelling up (naturally, since I'm well past 22 now) and try to reconcile herself to the fact that she'll never see her little Indo-Greek grandchildren. Dad has kind of given up on me, but Mummy dearest, God bless her, I can read her face like a book.

Anyway, I'm all set for a great easter because this time Mr Zeus is flying out to do easter with MY family. Yipeee! Cue Bollywood dance spectacular complete with villainous dad polishing his shotgun. And no proposal, this I have confirmed in advance because I don't want mum to be dusting off my dowry when all her daughter is likely to get on her finger is an onion ring.

Image: http://www.worldswalker.com/images/nanny-goat_jpg.jpg