Delivery, Small Island-Style
A dozen years ago – can it really be? I’ve never lived in aplace for so long! – Yorgos Orfanos showed up one day at the Honey Factory todeliver all my belongings I’d shipped from England.
Now I’ve been in my own house, equally unbelievably, for fiveyears. When I bought it, I’d agreed to buy it with all the contents and I didn’twant to change too much about this authentic little island house by the sea.But my house is finally entering the twenty-first century – which feels OK nowthat it’s 2024 and all.
It started with a trip to Rhodes a few weeks ago to take thecar for its MOT (KTEO), meet my mum at the airport, and take Lisa to the vet;then since I had the car, we went for a drive out of town. I’m pretty sure lasttime I visited the IKEA in Rhodes there wasn’t much of a showroom. That mayhave been several years ago.
This time, it was rather more impressive, and I’d beenthinking a few of my old things really had to go. Maybe I was ready for a newcouch (I have two, both second-hand, or maybe third-hand). And some new outdoor furniture. And a thick rug would be nice under my feet in the winter. Oh, and some lightweight, stackable chairs. And…
The sales assistant at IKEA at first insisted they didn’t deliverto Tilos. But luckily I knew that they did. We insisted. They checked. They diddeliver to Tilos. We placed the order.
Back in Tilos a few days later, the next thing that happened wasthat another hotplate became unusable on my old cooker. This stove was also inthe house when I bought it five years ago, and already very old, but two of thehotplates and the oven still worked. Why change it…? I even painted over the rusta couple of years ago with white enamel. Really. And painted little icons to showwhich knob was for which hotplate.
But recently it seemed the oven only had two settings, off orburning. And there were no numbers left on the knobs, so only I knew how to workit. To be fair, I have considered buying a new one, but the little hotplate forthe briki, the Greek coffee pot, has been something of a sticking point – and notbecause it hasn’t been cleaned. Most new cookers don’t have them, and I didn’twant an extra appliance. I liked making my Greek coffee on my stove.
Then one night when my mum cooked dinner, one of the knobscame flying off onto the floor. An accident? I’m not sure… But I did go onlineand order a lovely new cooker.
Anyway, so, a few days ago I was in Livadia when I saw Yorgoshanging out with a group of guys I knew, and as I said hello, I mentioned thatI’d ordered some stuff, because Yorgos is still the man who transports large itemsby truck via the big ship from Rhodes to Tilos.
‘It might be here already,’ he said. ‘What is it, chairs?’
‘Yes, and other things… Call me!’ I said. I was excited; andthen as several days passed, I figured it must have been someone else’s chairsthat had arrived.
Delivery to Tilos is fairly haphazard, at the mercy of boatschedules plus mysterious other obstacles. Christmas cards from the UK arrivein February. Last year I ordered something from a company that refunded my moneybecause it took so long to arrive, even though I told them that was normal.Yesterday I received an email from another company asking me for feedback on my recentpurchase of a new bag. Don't you get tired of being asked for feedback on everything? But in any case, it hasn’t arrived yet.
This morning was Sunday morning, as peaceful as most Sundaymornings at this time of year. Lisa stayed in bed after a big walk to the monasteryyesterday, so I made myself a Greek coffee and a little breakfast. Then I noticedsomeone standing at my gate, and heard my name shouted. It wasn’t Nikos thefisherman, and didn’t seem to be one of the farmers with vegetables…
It was Yorgos, with a truckload of boxes that he said were allfor me.
‘Where d’you want it?’ he asked as he and his helper startedunloading and carrying stuff in.
I suggested they just stack most of the stuff against the outsidewall and I’d sort it out myself, but clearly the cooker at least would need to finda place in the kitchen to await the electrician.
‘If I’d known it was coming,’ I said to Yorgos, smiling, ‘ifyou’d called me, I could have made some space and cleaned…’
But Yorgos perhaps thought that most people would have theirhouse already in some kind of order and cleanliness, i.e. as a general state ofaffairs. Whenever I clean, I think how nice it looks and that I should do it moreoften. But then I go for a walk instead, or into the garden to plant some seeds.And with my front door always open, the kitchen floor seems constantly coveredin mud, dust, sand and bits of firewood.
I hurriedly moved boots, dog food, bags, socks, snorkel, sarongs,etc etc and swept a space for the cooker, and the guys carried it in.
Yorgos said, ‘Don’t stand on it,’ and grinning, pointed to theicon on the packaging on top of the cooker that did in fact show a pair of feetand an X over them.
‘Oh, I was hoping to dance on it!’
(And anyone who's been to a party in my kitchen knows that stranger things happen.)
The whole thing had taken maybe ten minutes and then they weregone, with everything piled neatly. I thought Yorgos probably doesn’t callpeople in advance because this way it all gets done quickly, or asthey say in Greek, derived from the ancient Doric I believe, ‘taka-taka.’
It was a warm, sunny morning, but somehow it felt likeChristmas. I retrieved my coffee and started opening my first package.
