Boiled Eggs #7

What I did and thought about from the 18-22nd July 2026

18^th July

Bunch of golden-haired, bronzed young people with posh accents holding up the line in Marvin’s. Obviously unaware of unspoken etiquette rules of Marvin’s such as don’t umm and ahh for ages and don’t eventually order five freddo cappuccinos then hang around in everyone’s way looking coltish and pouty. Greek man in his-vis vest had to wait ten minutes to get two pastries and no drinks and shared a knowing look with barista. M and I tutted and ordered efficiently in an attempt at solidarity with weary locals though our obvious sunburn and inability to speak Greek worked against us.

Finally finished The Line of Beauty by Alan Hollinghurst. Beautiful writing and erotic and occasionally funny on sex and cocaine and class. Made me feel stupid for not having read any Henry James except In the Cage at uni which I can’t remember. Picked it back up at the perfect time because there’s a hot holiday section though it did make me aware of the comparative lack of glamour. M and I drinking tins and shooting nieces with water guns and going to Marvin’s constantly to look at the dusty beach chairs and fridge-magnets…

M and I went to a wine bar for a pre-dinner drink and intense but awkwardly charming owner brought us hand foraged mushrooms. Weird that he just drove up a hill and rooted around in the dirt for mushrooms that he put in a jar and declared a delicacy for some reason. Although I suppose that’s all food. Also they were delicious.

Everyone drunk at dinner and Dad asked restaurant owner to put the rugby on the big TV in the corner. Mum, G, and I all yelled at him, but owner agreed enthusiastically. Resultant camaraderie formed based on what they saw as men banding together to watch sports in spite of ball and chain interference and we saw as being rude. Couldn’t get the rugby so settled on the golf. Owner told us a Greek idiom: ‘I woke up feeling awful but then I realised I was a woman,’ which is almost definitely sexist but I don’t know why because of language barrier.

Told Pie when she was big she could come and stay with me in Glasgow and I’d take her out for cocktails. Said we could wear lipstick and gossip and she said ‘what about Uncle Bobo’ immediately. I said he could also wear lipstick and gossip and she shook her head and said, almost sadly, ‘silly.’

G and I stressed throughout dinner that we had accidentally ordered an expensive bottle of white wine instead of a very cheap rosé. Playing the blame game – I said it was her fault because she ordered, she said it was mine because I tried the wine and accepted. I countered that I was too stressed by the necessary performance of wine-tasting (smelling the glass, swishing wine around, sipping and then taking a long pause before saying… ‘yes that’s lovely’) to remember what G had ordered initially. Worries assuaged when the bill came and the bottle was fifteen quid.

19^th July

Had iced coffee at Marvin’s made up of chocolate milk, espresso, and whipped cream. Also tried to find Greek slogan t-shirt but all of Marvin’s adult t-shirts weirdly chic and expensive. All cool t-shirts were for children and therefore too small. Found a leopard print bucket had that said fuck off on it but I already have a leopard print (furry) bucket hat that E panic-bought me for my twentieth birthday. M finished Wolf Hall and loved it.

Went to mushroom foraging wine bar for dinner and the owner looked offended when I ordered rosé with lamb chops. Think he felt bad though because he later complimented me eating a chop with my fingers in a well-intentioned but awkward way.

After food came Pie and OtBot went insane (potentially due to sleep deprivation) and kept unbuttoning Dad’s shirt. Everyone laughed a lot the first time Pie said ‘look at Papa’s nipples’ but less and less as the phrase was repeated. OtBot was pushing her sister and saying ‘no, my papa!’ and Dad was loving the attention too much to tell anyone off.

Pie pointing at restaurants on the way home: ‘that’s where mummy broke a glass, and that’s where I had my unicorn balloon, and that’s where I got my bunny hat.’

20^th July

Went to Pilos and had breakfast in the square with Mum, Dad and M. So hot. A woman approached with a young son and an empty cup, asking for money. I felt guilty – I was eating pancakes like Augustus Gloop or something which made me feel worse – but I didn’t have any money to give her. I could have gone to a cashpoint, but I didn’t for some reason, embarrassment maybe. She could tell we were uncomfortable. Her son looked tired. I felt lucky afterwards in a way that held no happiness, only shame, because I have not worked particularly hard or earned the majority of privileges I live with. The only difference between us was circumstance really.

After dinner playing a game with Pie that we call ‘I’m a character’, but is basically twenty questions. I told Pie that I was a man (I was Santa) and her next three guesses were: Taylor Swift, Auntie Joanna and a sausage.

21^st July

Sad to say goodbye to Marvin’s, which is staffed almost exclusively by beautiful Greek teenagers with sculpted eyebrows and perfect noses. Got breakfast and coffee and sandwiches for later. Forgot to buy a fridgey I’ve been coveting with a black cat on it.

In airport to go home and overheard a father scolding his son for biting his brother. He said: ‘you should never ever bite someone and if you do it again I will bite you.’

Give the girl doing handstands in front of us in very crowded small airport terminal a pass because she looks about sixteen. Sandwich from Marvin’s one of the best of my life despite (or maybe due to) being in a plastic bag in a hot car and then an airport for several hours. Proscuitto, mozzarella, sliced tomatoes, rocket and pesto.

Bored on plane and M a tenner to put on seatmate’s cardigan while she was in toilet. He offered me same amount to eat a red floor-sweetie that might have been a skittle or an m&m. Both offers declined. I said I’d eat the sweetie for two hundred quid though I probably would have done it for fifty.

Landed and checked my emails to find a form rejection for a job I’d quite wanted. Immediately after have to take off my bandana for an airport scanner and my hair underneath was the flattest and greasiest it has ever been. Especially depressing after a week of amazing curly hair on holiday. Then a headache on the train and ANOTHER job rejection (this one by post?!) when we get back. Texted E: fuck my life.

22^st July

Couldn’t sleep due to headache and feeling hot and itchy all over my body. Woke congested and puffy with a migraine aura. Ate off-brand Weetabix so I could have painkillers and went back to bed with my cold cap. M went to work but I could tell he felt bad leaving. Cancelled work stuff and felt guilty. Ordered extra-strength antihistamines that someone on Reddit recommended for migraines caused by pressure increases. Another Redditor suggested moving away from Glasgow’s horrible humid climate – like in Little Women when Beth goes to the seaside although maybe not a good comparison because obviously RIP Beth. Feel like I’m in an abusive relationship with my city that I luv so much but obviously does not luv me back.

Drink coffee and take more medicine and manage to find a position that doesn’t actively worsen headache. Lie very still and manage to work a little. I haven’t really been cataloguing migraine stuff here, but it is part of my life I suppose so dishonest to omit. It’s easier to dress pain up in fiction when I can make it allegorical or at least for something when in reality pain is entirely meaningless and without reason.

Asda so fucking annoying about pretending products are in stock when they aren’t. Swear to god I’ve ordered chorizo sausages three times and no dice. Starting to believe in conspiracy ie. these items weren’t ever in stock to begin with and are potentially fake so as to draw people to shop at Asda. Saw a new boujee brand of greek yoghurt and just thought it’s not even worth getting my hopes up. Will continue to shop there though because love the pizza counter.

beaten down by lyf