Elpi Pamiadaki

A presidential guard watching clashes between police and protesters outside the Greek parliament.

With the Greek debt crisis still dominating the news, I wonder if you know that Greek public debt was only 20% of GDP in the early 80′s. It only took 30 years for Greek politicians to increase it to 120% of GDP in 2009 when the crisis became public knowledge not only to the Eurozone, but to the Greek people.

Fast forward two years, and with the “help” of the Eurozone, debt to GDP has increased by another 40% to a staggering 160%.

Default seems inevitable. The eye-watering austerity measures enforced by the Troika have lead the country deeper into recession. The Greek economy has shrank by 20% in four years, and this is the true reason why the Troika’s budgetary goals have not been met, followed closely of course, by an inability of spineless Greek politicians to implement any reforms.

Greeks have endured a constant stream of tax increases and repeated salary cuts, while watching half of their young labour force unemployed. Suicides have trebled, homelessness has multiplied and the Greek church recently announced they are feeding at least 250,000 daily in Athens. Now, Greeks are told that this notorious second bailout will help reduce the same ratio back to 120% by 2020.

Surely, if this level of debt is sustainable, then why did Greece need the first bailout in 2009, when debt to GDP was as 120%?

The debt crisis, has affected everyone in Greece. My brother, a computer analyst, and the father of two young children was laid-off from his job in IT in November. He hadn’t been paid for five months. He tells me there is no hope of finding another job, within or out of his profession.

When I speak to my 82 year old grandmother, still living in Athens, she tells me she’s cold. It is the second winter she has not had central heating because nobody in the apartment building could afford heating oil for the joint boiler last year. This year, the apartment building is empty. She survived for years on the income she received from renting four small apartments, but the tenants didn’t pay for months, then left in the middle of the night, leaving behind unpaid bills. The one tenant that is left, has also not paid her rent for months.

My grandmother says, “I feel sorry for her, she’s got nothing, and she’s paid her rent on time for years. I can’t just kick her out into the streets.”

Thankfully, more and more Greeks are thinking like her. On the 4^th of February, potato growers in the north of the country, offered over ten tons of potatoes to residents of Thessaloniki, distributed free to growing queues. They were protesting against retailers importing cheaper potatoes from Egypt, when more than 70% of Greek produce went unsold, but they also wanted to help amidst the chaos of the crisis.

A week before that, a farmers market in Syntagma Square handed out 30 tons worth of vegetables to passing Athenians, free.

Ordinary people, are seen taking whatever clothes and blankets they can spare to the growing homeless.

An atmosphere of solidarity and camaraderie is spreading. Concepts that have always characterised Greek society in times of great need. And this is certainly one such time.

The austerity measures have failed. Europe is not bailing Greece out, it is bailing out their creditors.

Another fact you may not be aware of, is that today, it is exactly ten years since the Euro was circulated in Greece for the first time. I wonder whether this year will create a new anniversary. An anniversary of Greece returning to an old currency. If not the Drachma, then the Phoenix, the very first currency of the modern Greek state in 1928, when free from the shackles of the Ottoman empire Greeks needed a symbol of re-birth and re-generation. Like they also do today.

The Greeks may default, but they are built to survive. And an exit is always an entrance somewhere else.

Relaxing, at last...

In a few days, I will be on a plane, sipping cheap champagne costing a small fortune. No, I won’t be celebrating the beginning of the holiday, but the ending of the weeks of preparation I’ve had to put into it.

Seriously, it’s not fun to be me when you’re talking about a holiday.

First there’s finding the holiday. There’s the easy way, of just looking at a brochure and booking something that looks nice, like normal folk. Then there’s my way. The way of pain, the way of stringing it out, feeling the frustration of spending entire evenings researching suitable places, and meticulously reading reviews.

Then there’s the pre-holiday getting in shape rush. Really, I’m an intelligent woman. Why does it never click, that within the space of eight weeks I am not going to get the killer abs and shapely bottom I’ve never had?

And while I’m talking about appearance, let me also add, I have no idea why I’m always so obsessed with looking perfectly “maintained”. I go away to relax, to totally abuse my body with food and alcohol and sand and sun. Why is it so important for my nails to be manicured, the soles of my feet to be smooth and my hair to be freshly cut?

Just a week before the holiday, panic sets in. Shock horror, the house-sitters are arriving. I scurry around cleaning corners of the house that only get cleaned when we go on holiday. The fridge has to be sanitised, the oven has to sparkle and any sign of cobwebs obliterated. And I wash the sheets for the sitters bed because sheets folded in the cupboard can never be as fresh as I like them. They have to be washed and ironed, to regain that lovely crisp feeling. The freezer, cupboards and fridge are stocked up accordingly, you know, just in case a war breaks out while we are away and if I have time, I polish any streaks off the windows.

Then there’s the packing of our “bits”. For weeks, I’ll think of lists; clearing the camera of old photos and charging it, phone chargers, mosquito repellants, first aid kit, antiseptic wipes, sting relief sticks, hats, toys and books and DVD’s for Trainboy.

The three nights before the holiday are always laced with fragile nerves and inexplicable anxiety. Even when the cases are packed, I’ve ticked all my lists and go to bed, I worry about what I’ve forgotten, is there enough milk for the sitters and have I enough Euros? I get up and out of bed, repeatedly checking that the passports and tickets are in my bag (at least ten times the night before and several times before we set off) and I nearly always see the mocking grins on the sitters faces when I remind them how to set the security system if they’re out.

I mean, seriously, sometimes I think staying home for a holiday sounds so much more relaxing. Just pottering around the house and garden. Not worrying about going without something important. Sleeping in my own bed. Wearing what I want to wear, rather than what I’ve packed and not having people have to stay to watch the house and tend to the garden.

Of course, a couple of glasses of champers on the plane and all the purgatory will disappear instantly.

I vividly remember my first few days on Twitter. They were scary. There I was, having to post my first tweet to the Twitterverse, blindly. It felt like going to a party where everybody knows each other and you are left alone, standing sipping your drink in embarrassing silence while everybody else is having a great time.

Thankfully, I was quickly followed by some lovely people and they gently eased me into the whole twittering thing. It was during those first days, or maybe weeks that I remember reading a blog post by Isabel Ashdown about Twitter etiquette and her reasons for unfollowing users. She made some very good points, inspiring me to write my own Twetiquette. So here goes:

Who I follow

I’m on Twitter to connect with other writers and people that I share an interest with. Readers and book lovers, gardeners, mums/dads, food bloggers and generally interesting folk. If I come across someone that ticks one of these boxes, I read their profile, have a look at a couple of tweets and follow them.

Do I always follow back?

If you tick one of the boxes above and you are a person, then yes. If you run a building company in Hawaii, for instance, then no. I have no interest in hiring a builder in Hawaii, because I live in the UK. I don’t believe in following you just for the sake of accumulating followers.

Do I unfollow?

Of course I do. Just not very often. On the few occasions I deliberately pressed the unfollow button it was because:

• You didn’t follow me back? My rule is, I tweet you three times. If I get no replies back, and you don’t follow me, then I unfollow. More on this later.
• You post the same tweet, over and over again and nothing else. “My debut novel, Sunny Night, can be bought from Amazon for 99p”.
• You have posted a sexist, racist or inappropriate tweet.
• We have absolutely nothing in common.

If you don’t follow me back

I’m pretty cool about it, if you are super famous. Twitter is a two way thing, isn’t it? My main reason for joining Twitter is to connect with like-minded people and learn from them. I won’t automatically unfollow you if you don’t follow back. I’ll try and learn from your tweets and connect with you. But if I try and connect with you (by replying to one of your tweets) and you ignore me three times, then I will unfollow. I think that’s fair.

When I follow, I really follow

I know it’s not possible to do it all the time, but if I follow you, I’ll try and read your blog, get to know you and generally interact with you. It’s obviously not possible to do it all the time, with everybody, but I try and do my fair share.

PS: I have unfollowed a few people, courtesy of Twitter. That means, Twitter decided to unfollow a few people on my behalf for no apparent reason. If this has happened with you, and I haven’t followed back then please let me know.