I really do not know what else to call her. The walk to the open market in Tripoli is from the main square through the narrow roads on uneven pavements. As you leave the square there are modern shops and banks and as you approach the market there are general trading stores, saddle makers and…
Conversations with a Portuguese Tiler
My father had a Portuguese tiler working for him at the time of the main expansions of our house. “Patria”, he would shout as he passed the tiler, and the tiler would give him a broad smile. There was a labourer or two, but they were always in the background. The tiler did all the…
Conversations on Olympus
Mount Olympus is the highest mountain in Greece. It is also the most revered, as home of the gods. I am sure it would be safe refuge from some of the money mongers who have dug Greece into debt. Perhaps they should just let those innocent of any financial misdoing live there peacefully with the…
Conversations with a Lamb
The carcasses would normally arrive Saturday morning, sometimes three or four of them. They would be laid on the kitchen table, covered by a cool white sheet as we had no cold room. The smell of dead meat and almost rancid fat would pervade the house. As the day wore on specks of blood would…
Conversations on Filing
“An office stores documents. It’s up to us to organise them.” That’s what my father thought of filing. I remember my first job in the office when I was about 12 was filing in the big Lever arch files, placing them in the metal filing cabinets. Each document had to have a section in which…
Conversations with a Physician
My father had a diligent team of physician, cardiologist, cardiothoracic surgeon and a cardiologist specialising in arrthymias. They were all top of their game; they excelled in their profession. But before them he had a only physician, in the days when most people had general practitioners. He was top of his game; he excelled in…
Conversations at a Funeral
Our neighbour, Mr Austen, used to work for MGM, Metro Goldwyn Meyer, in South Africa. In the 70’s my father arranged that he brought films home on the weekend and a projector, and we would show it for the neighbourhood and extended family. Eventually my father bought a Bell & Howell 16mm projector with Cinemascope…
Conversations with a Health Inspector
Union Cafe was built by my grandfather a few years before the country became a republic. He did not change the name in 1960. It was the quintessential Greek cafe. It stood on the corner of 7th Avenue, a steep sloping road, in the middle where it flattened out a bit. The double wooden framed…
Conversations with a Coach
My father and I often spoke about life coaches. In a way, he was a crisis coach for many people. People came to him with a problem, he analysed it with them and helped them look for solutions. He was a financial coach for others, a bit more structured, and something he clearly understood. We…
Conversations with a Municipal Manager
In the seventies our home town near Johannesburg faced massive growth and became a hub for commuters staying nearby but working in Johannesburg. Traffic volumes were set to increase in the next decades and even though there were new highways replacing the old main road, aptly called Voortrekker Road for the locals, the cars and…
basilbloginc.com 