Double Easter


Easter is over and we’re on our way to Greece, where Easter is about to begin. Holy Week 1.0 (the Orthodox vsn) starts today.

Half way from Heathrow to Athens I remember the reason I didn’t want to fly. Security was awful, and my seat is jammed upright and my headphones don’t work, and we’ve already seen the in-flight movie; but I am not deterred by all that man-made inconvenience. But i do have a problem with in-flight toothache, which is nature’s highly personalised way of telling me to stay home. I was made to fly; about as much as cows were made to flit from bough to bough of small trees. I take two paracetamol and remind myself of the 10C temperature advantage of Athens over London, excluding the wind chill factor. And I can rationalise the toothache. It’s self-inflicted pain, the well-deserved consequential counter-karma to a life-time of chocolate and other gratuitous sugar indulgences. Furthermore, toothache is a proper feature of the theologically fallen state of mankind, or nature, or both, the theologians have not yet resolved that one. So, I give thanks for the future hope of toothache-free flights, and resolve to go over-land next time, and also try to forget the inescapable threat of the return ticket.
Once my teeth and i have landed, normal atmospheric pressure will be resumed as soon as possible. And it is. We get an X95 bus into the city except we’re thrown off before we reach Syntagma Square. As we walk the last mile we realise why the bus route is foreshortened. A demonstration is planned, or from the police equipment iI’d say a riot. So, as I say, a normal atmosphere. For Athens. Nevertheless, the day ends well in the rooftop bar of the Royal Olympic Hotel, looking at the Parthenon, Zeus columns, I Capito, and the Athens Hilton. While the Athenians are kicking off holy week by revolting in the streets.

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