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should be all about. It was a horrid precursor to a winter’s day here when I opened the pics you attached and I was so jealous of you all sitting outdoors under that gorgeous blue sky with the olive trees in the background. It looked like a picture you would see in a travel brochure, you lucky thing. Who was the dark-haired girl next to Alexandros? Don’t tell me he has a girlfriend already? He’s only been home five minutes. I wish I could have been there and raised a glass with you all. Though of course I wouldn’t have been drinking that Retsina you are all so fond of sitting in the sunshine and knocking back because I am a teetotaller these days. As of last Sunday that is, thanks to Carl and those bloody Long Island Iced Teas he’s so partial to.
    April 28 th started off innocently enough with Carl and I meeting at the Botanic Gardens to talk about all the same old Roz stuff that we talk about every year on her birthday. We went back to his place in the late afternoon because it gets cold earlier and earlier at the moment to watch the Yanni concert. It made us both cry like it always does, though Carl did get his knickers in a knot at one point, accusing me of blaspheming Yanni. I didn’t mean to. I just pass remarked that sometimes he looked like he could do with a really good bowel motion. No offence, Kas, because I know the man is a cultural icon over your way but hey after all these years of watching that concert and his various facial expressions, I feel I am entitled to comment. Anyway, you know Carl: he got over it pretty quick and when the concert finished, I suggested we drink a toast to your birthday too as promised in my last email. So, in a way, Kas, now that I think about it, it is actually your fault too because it was downhill from there on in.
    I wanted to get Indian for dinner but Carl insisted we go out for tapas, which was actually just another word for cocktails because I don’t remember seeing food until three a.m.-ish when I picked up a mince pie at the petrol station on my way home. It was pretty gross too, full of gelatine. I’m getting off track though, sorry—anyway, we wound up at some dark little bar that Carl insisted was the latest ‘in’ place to be seen at. From what I could see, what ‘in’ meant was that the clientele all looked like they’d sneaked out on a school night. Carl was in form, keeping the drinks coming, which I think was an excuse to keep chatting to the cute bartender. Either way, I’d no sooner finished slurping my way through one concoction and then Carl would be there at the ready with another. He was on a mission to get slaughtered because he is on a break from David at the moment and he never does well when he is on his own. It’s alright for him, though; he didn’t make a holy show of himself.
    Oh, Kas, I cringe every time I think about it. I wish us Kiwis were sensible with our alcohol consumption like you Greeks are. Sure, you might like to toss a plate or two over your shoulders when you have had a couple of Ouzos but we, my friend, are a nation of binge drinkers. You would think I’d know better at my age than to drink like that on Roz’s birthday or anybody’s birthday for that matter. Apparently not, though, because I vaguely remember Carl being off on the dance floor while I leaned all over some poor guy in an effort to keep myself upright. I told the lucky chap all about my dream wedding dress, which is just what every single man out on the pull wants to hear about. That wasn’t the worst of it, though. I spotted a girl with a sheet of blonde hair dancing by Carl and there was just something about the way she moved that reminded me of Roz and it all came alcohol induced, flooding back. That poor, poor man had me dribbling and crying on his shoulder.
     
    Annie shuddered as she recalled how she had bent the stranger’s ear and leaned away from the screen for a moment. She shut her eyes at the myriad memories that had assailed her.
    If Roz