Mad dogs and Englishmen..... Regardless of which English speaking tradition you grew up in you have probably heard the Noel Coward song at least once, or heard it's most famous line quoted. Even I, the Tigger, have heard it.
Mad Dogs and Englishmen and Greek Whipper-snipper-man; hatless, shirtless, in full midday sun and baking heat on an open rocky shoreline. You could fry eggs on those rocks at this time of day in mid-Summer. Even mad dogs and Englishmen know better.
We can now, however, see the difference:
Spot all the pieces of rock you can see now right out at the point, and they are cutting everything beyond the bottom of the stairs today as well. F is a little concerned for the welfare of the capers and Kritamo, but a few small hummocks of green remain nearer the sea. Whipper-snipper operators are not usually known for their discernment or discrimination when it comes to land clearance in brain-baking heat.
Meanwhile, this morning, the no-flowers garden also got a hair-cut and scrape clean:
(we don't have before and after photos as they took us by surprise with this one). We heard some beeping and looked out to see a BIG truck full of prunings backing up and a machine known generically in UK as a JCB (big yellow thing with tractor tyres and a BIG arm - this one happened to be a Komatsu, other brands are available), departing the scene.
Those plants are about 1/4 the height they had been with about 1/20th of the green cover. We couldn't see the cafe awning before. Kyria No-Flowers will be pleased. (Unless of course she has evacuated to some island based home to escape the suffocation of Athens in summer.)
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