I've just bought fresh doughnuts and a baguette from the unmarked hole-in-the-wall that is the excellent bakery on Karaiskaki street in Psyrri.
It is the start of siesta time; the hottest part of the day.
I'm walking down the middle of the narrow empty street when a trim fifty-something comes silently sprinting towards me from round the corner of a side street with an unusual look on his face. To judge by this look and the incredible speed he is going he must surely have left the chip pan on or the bath running.
Ten seconds later, another trim fifty-something comes silently haring round the corner with a similar expression. This stops me in my tracks. I turn to see him follow the same route back up the middle of the street.
Five seconds later, a trim young policeman comes silently haring round the corner by which time the first man is turning into an alleyway and is passing out of sight. Only then does the policeman start to shout Stop! in Greek as he pounds up the hot tarmac at impressive speed. This prompts the second man to start shouting Police! Police! as he keeps pace.
At the sound of this, half a dozen people spring out of shops to watch the race because, of course, the fugitive is already past.
Excitement over, I turned to carry on my route. A few minutes later, I was pleased to see the fugitive being reluctantly led away in handcuffs by the policeman with the second man also in attendance. They passed right in front of me again before pausing for a minute in the shade to cool down a little and catch their collective breaths, and then out of sight into the hustle and bustle of Monastiraki station.
I'm walking down the middle of the narrow empty street when a trim fifty-something comes silently sprinting towards me from round the corner of a side street with an unusual look on his face. To judge by this look and the incredible speed he is going he must surely have left the chip pan on or the bath running.
Ten seconds later, another trim fifty-something comes silently haring round the corner with a similar expression. This stops me in my tracks. I turn to see him follow the same route back up the middle of the street.
Five seconds later, a trim young policeman comes silently haring round the corner by which time the first man is turning into an alleyway and is passing out of sight. Only then does the policeman start to shout Stop! in Greek as he pounds up the hot tarmac at impressive speed. This prompts the second man to start shouting Police! Police! as he keeps pace.
At the sound of this, half a dozen people spring out of shops to watch the race because, of course, the fugitive is already past.
Excitement over, I turned to carry on my route. A few minutes later, I was pleased to see the fugitive being reluctantly led away in handcuffs by the policeman with the second man also in attendance. They passed right in front of me again before pausing for a minute in the shade to cool down a little and catch their collective breaths, and then out of sight into the hustle and bustle of Monastiraki station.
(Originally published in 2008 - today I added a screen shot from Street View and it has changed the date <rolls eyes emoji> )
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