… is a lemon. More precisely, the first lemons on the tree I planted. I have an absurd sense of pride and squeezing one to dress the lettuce salad was a symbolic moment of achievement. And that is the extent of today's great thoughts on the condition of the world.
It is a cold wet day, snow is forecast, but I expect it will only fall in the mountains. Travelling through Athens on a bus after another day of protests you could see precisely nothing. No demonstrators, no banners, simply a big city getting on with everything that big cities do; people travelling to work, opening shops, clearing rubbish, normal humdrum things. And here in the countryside all is quiet, even the cockerel is hiding from the rain that drips from the skeletal frame of the klimataria and the bare sticks that were a vine in summer.
With the brain in a state of suspended animation, it is time to retreat to the olive wood log fire.