Birthplace of blondes

I simply can’t understand why so many Greek women resemble Scandinavians. Everywhere I look there are blondes — fat blondes, short blondes, hairy blondes, but blondes nevertheless.

On board S/Y Bushido

I simply can’t understand why so many Greek women resemble Scandinavians. Everywhere I look there are blondes — fat blondes, short blondes, hairy blondes, but blondes nevertheless. Could it be the carbon-dioxide emissions that cause this phenomenon, or is there something in the water that turns dark-haired women into fair ones? I suppose we’ll never find out. Never mind. Whereas northern types have been known to snore at the wrong moment, Greek ladies are hot-blooded, hence Greek men get awfully turned on. Personally, I prefer dark-haired girls.

The first — and only real — Greek blonde I ever met was Raymon, my father’s girlfriend. It was during the war. She was half French. During an air-raid, and while a rowdy party was taking place in our house, the lights went out. When they suddenly came back on, my poor mother screamed. Apparently old dad was snogging Raymon and was caught in the act. You can read all this in my book, On Gossamer Wings, if I ever manage to write it. But while I’m at it, I must tell you about the Boboniera movie house in the Kifissia (a northern Athenian suburb where chic people went to escape hoi polloi and Athenian heat; now, like everywhere else, a hellhole).

Back in those good old days, the better born and better-off sat on canvas armchairs up front, and had marble-topped tables next to them in case they got thirsty. White-coated flunkies went discreetly around offering their services. Lesser earners sat at the back of the outdoor cinema, on straw chairs, and had to serve themselves at the bar.