The Hills Are Alive…

Well everyone, it’s that time of year again.  The clocks have gone back, the nights are drawing in and the weather has turned cooler… 

It’s fair to say that usually I’m heading back to the UK around now.  But this year (apart from a couple of weeks over Christmas) I’ve decided to stay on here in Kalymnos.  Not least because I have work to do and there are too many uneccessary interruptions back home – what with the various shift patterns to fit around, constantly missing car keys to help search for and let’s not forget the numerous meals expected to be made. 

But even these aside, I suppose it’s only right that I should stay put; Kalymnos is, after all, the setting for my next novel.

Obviously during the winter months it’s going to be a very different place than the one I’m used to.  There’ll be no trips to the beach or lazing under the sun with the excuse that I’m planning the next chapter, for example.  And I can tell by how quiet it’s getting already that there won’t be many people around – which isn’t necessarily a bad thing for a woman who needs to get on and do…  Or for a woman forced to walk around whilst staring at her feet!

Oh yes, I’m pleased to say that’s yet another bonus to my stopping here…  my eyes will finally be able to roam at will, without being subjected to any un-pleasantries.

Of course, when I say un-pleasantries, I’m not talking about the scenery as such.  Thanks to its rocky, rugged landscape, Kalymnos isn’t just dramatically magnificent, it really does look like an island straight out of Jason and the Argonauts.  But then again it’s also because of this very landscape that I’m forced to keep my head down at all times – Kalymnos being a haven amongst the world’s climbing fraternity, as it is. 

Naturally, you’re now all wondering what could possibly be wrong with a host of handsome, muscular athletic types adorning the place.  A question I too, indeed would be asking.

However, when it comes to climbers whilst, yes, their bodies might be their temples, it seems many of them still don’t know how to run a comb through their hair.  And whilst wide legged sweat pants are horrific at the best of times, it appears many of them don’t realise just how scandalous it can be to wear them a couple of inches too short. 

And, moreover, what’s with the dread locks and Jesus sandals?

Saying that, any disenchantment I might feel at these is nothing compared to the nausea I often experience during the Summer months – courtesy of an array of tighter than necessary leggings.  And let’s face it, these garments aren’t just offensive, per se, when it comes to a man’s particularly body parts, it’s probably better to maintain an air of mystery… 

Honestly it’s enough to make a girl shudder!

Still, at least now it’s quietening down around here I’ll be able to dismiss all images of lycra covered crotches from my mind completely.  Instead, able to spend time taking in the more beautiful aspects of the environment.

That’s unless I decide to include a group of climbers in my scribblings, of course!

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