An email from my sister today; she spends every summer on Syros, in the Cyclades. She complains that it is cloudy, and that she may demand her money back. Poor dear. When she comes home, with her already-retired husband, she has to decide when to give her notice at the school where she has taught for almost 40 years. A dedicated and ever-enthusiastic teacher in one of Glasgow's most deprived housing estates ('schemes') she has had enough, and her health is suffering.
I can't imagine her not teaching, but I've already bagged an out of season trip with her to this so-interesting little island, to work on making their new apartment a bit more homely. The term 'work' is relative, you understand, with all the usual Greek holiday influences and a pace of life that makes mine seem positively hectic. Can't wait.