When the alarm went off I thought my head was chopped off  and being tortured while my body lay listless and numb. I groaned and straigtened up very carefully, then tiptoed to the kitchenette to put the kettle on, fighting the nausea that was making me feel weak at the knees. After the second cuppa and three painkillers I was feeling a lot better, and made my way down to the kitchen for Ermioni's bottle, but was told that from today on I had to get Nikos, the boy, ready for school.
I heard the screams as I got out of the lift on the bedroom floor, and found the little fiend sitting on the bed, mouth roundly open and sending out screams of such volume I thought it loud enough to wake the whole of Athens. Dorah came in looking haggard, and told me that Nikos had to dress himself, and must be ready and at the gate for the bus at eight. I tried softsoaping, the volume increased, then I tried to bribe him with sweeties, and he spit at me again, the spit landing on my lower arm. My brandy headache was flaming up again, and never one with loads of patience, I neatly rubbed the spit onto his pajama top. Within a split second the child, eyes like saucers, was out of his top, and he even forgot to scream. So I reckoned that another rub on his pants would solve that problem, and it did. But we were at stalemate now, he screaming again, and I was holding my sore head, and when he increased the volume even more, I told him: 'Oh stop it you bally brat!', and thought of my packed bags down in my room. I could not believe that he could master up more volume, but he did, and the Ya-Ya, followed by Dorah, burst into the room, demanding to know whether I was torturing their little god! Nikos poked a finger at me, informing his audience between sobs that I called him a brat. Two pairs of eyes turned to me, and the Ya-Ya started talking fast and furiously to Dorah, who shooed her, and asked me what happened. I had an answer ready and told her that I said 'skat', an Afrikaans word for darling. She believed me, but the Ya-Ya was of sterner stuff, and gave me one menacing look as Dorah pulled her from the room. My empty nest back home never seemed so inviting as at that point in time!
The room was like a toyshop, so I ignored the boy and started looking for things to interest him. I found loads of roadsigns, and little houses and buildings, and little trees and many small cars, so I decided to build a little village. As the village started to take shape, the screams became softer, until Nikos said: 'I want to play!' 'No,no,' I said, 'I don't play with naked boys'. Within minutes the boy was dressed, and we were having quite a good time, when the door opened and the parents plus gran peeped around it, I suppose wondering if I had indeed strangled the child. They were speechless, even the Ya-Ya's face had relaxed! It took some doing to get him fed and on the bus, but I did manage, and took a few more painkillers!