At 7.30 sharp I met George the Albanian up at the Greek Hovel. He skipped and jumped across the terraces like a young goat. In his sixties he puts me to shame. But it did not take him long to reach his verdict. I don't speak Greek but I understood. He is an honest chap. We retired to the village and went to see Vangelis, at the recently relocated hardware store. a man who speaks English.
It is not worth me paying George to harvest so bad has been the storm damage. But I am determined to bring some Greek hovel olive oil back to England so I asked if George could give me a few sacks. Vangelis understood "you will harvest by hand". Indeed I shall. There are so few olives left on most trees that actually picking them w2ill be quicker than laying down sheets and beating them off with paddles. On a few trees, sheltered from the storm, the crop is bigger.
I reckon that at five hours a day I can do it in four days. I start tomorrow. Avrio. This is not going to be easy because, as followers of previous harvests know, it is bloody hard work which will break you, unless you are a 65 year old Albanian or his wife. But cometh the day.... I want my oil.