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Maria was born into poverty and did not have much luck in escaping it. Yet she was an unchallenged believer, who would say regularly, Oti thelei o Theos: Whatever God wants. This, while I would huff and puff and mutter that God helps those who help themselves. But part of me envied Maria her certainties.
The dismissal of Gough Whitlam by then Governor-General Sir John Kerr in 1975 has been described as the greatest political and constitutional crisis in Australia's history. It seems pallid in comparison with what is now happening here in Greece.
Panayiotis runs the mini-market he inherited from his father. I have known father and son for 30 years. 'How do you see things at this stage of the krisi?' I ask him, for I'm always asking people what they think of Greece's financial crisis. 'What crisis?' he grins. 'Greece has got a crisis; Greeks haven't.' Published 14 June 2011
My father was disgusted by beggars. 'You know what that's all about? A bottle of metho to go with the boot polish.' These days I divide beggars into categories. The aged are in my in-group, and so are children. I give to amputees, but one day an 'amputee' got up and revealed himself to have two legs.
In their Greek travels, 20th century writers Lawrence Durrell and Henry Miller tried to construct a sort of paradise for themselves. Most foreign inhabitants of Greece try to do the same. I certainly did. I hope now that there is a chance of Paradise being regained.
Two weeks ago two grandmothers met at a popular rendezvous in central Athens. Their talk was the usual leapfrog business, but there was an undercurrent of worry: What was going to happen to this country? Was any sort of solution going to present itself? Suddenly the riot squad hove into view.
The day my father died I was at the beach. Strangely, that morning one friend and I had been discussing death. My phone had been switched off, but as I walked away at the end of an almost perfect day, I turned the little time-bomb on again. It exploded almost immediately.
At least adults have a little hope of understanding the pain, and coping with it. Even the most equable of children must find the experience bewildering at best, and agonising at worst. My eldest son had a period of not eating. His migration as a child remains the defining fact of his life.
Panayiotis runs the mini-market he inherited from his father. I have known father and son for 30 years. 'How do you see things at this stage of the krisi?' I ask him, for I'm always asking people what they think of Greece's financial crisis. 'What crisis?' he grins. 'Greece has got a crisis; Greeks haven't.'
My sons had their bedtime stories for years, but had to become used to my saying 'Just a minute' while I raced to the end of a page or chapter. Now grown, my technophile youngest had a most surprisng reaction to the marvellous present sent to me recently.
My father was just 23 when he saw action. He is now nearly 90, and his recent description of the Borneo beach landing, which he had never mentioned to his offspring before, made my brother's blood run cold.
When I first moved to Greece, my language skills were reduced to those of a three-year-old. The pain of this was exacerbated when six months after our arrival, my six and eight-year-old sons started speaking to each other in Greek.
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