Southend U3A

January 2023

In The Lap Of The Gods - Jan Norman

Forty-year-old Giorgos Savas was not the man he used to be. Unkempt hair, slack jowls, bags under his eyes and a beer belly belied the Adonis that he had been in his youth. Twenty years of marriage to the prettiest girl in his village of Petros had taken their toll. Uncaring, selfish and avaricious she had stripped him mentally and physically of all that he possessed except his love of baking. Being Master of that craft was the only thing that made it possible for him to get up in the morning.

At the end of a long hot day baking in the tiny bakery cum shop attached to his cottage, he opened his front door into the shuttered living room. All was quiet. No haranguing wife. Then he remembered, Cassandra was staying with her sister in Athens, who had married a man that had done well for himself; not a stupid dolt like him himself, as she was so fond of telling him.

He sighed, picked up the mail and, feeling very weary, slumped down on the battered sofa. Deciding to skip dinner, he grabbed a bottle of Ouzo instead and poured a generous glassful. Emptying half the glass in one gulp, he turned his attention to the post: throwing out all the flyers and advertising, except for one which caught his eye. There was to be a countrywide competition to find the best baker of traditional breads and cakes, in an endeavour to promote artisan food to the Greeks and tourists alike. Giorgos knew that he excelled in the making of rustic loaves, such as Lagana, a Greek Lenten bread. If he won, the kudos and advertising would make him a wealthy and respected man. Someone, even at this late date, who might engender some love and respect from Cassandra.

Leaving the competition entry forms to one side, he idly shuffled through the rest of the mail. A thick pink envelope intrigued him. The contents stunned him. Cassandra was not coming home. She was leaving him for good. She had met a rich business colleague of her brother-in-law, Stavros and they had fallen in love. Intending to marry, she wanted to start divorce proceedings as soon as possible and told him to find a solicitor. Oh, and he was to send all her clothes and belongings by courier to her sister’s house.

Stunned, Giorgos re-read the letter. Not a word of contrition or thought for his feelings. Emotions ripped through his body in rapid succession: shock, a deep sense of failure and shame but then anger. Deep abiding anger. She dared to presume he would lay down and roll over? Send her clothes? Roaring in hurt and fury he collected all her clothes and possessions he could get his hands on and threw them into the yard, drenched them in petrol and set them alight. With an Ouzo bottle in one hand, he danced around the bonfire cackling in glee, until he fell, semi-conscious, to the ground.

This was the start of a bender to beat all benders. Two weeks later and one stone lighter, he cranked open his gummy eyes. The blinding light forced him to turn over so sharply he fell off the sofa onto a mountain of empty drink bottles and piles of vomit. With tongue cloven to the roof of his mouth and the mother of all headaches he staggered to the bathroom and, fully clothed, threw himself under the shower. The cold water sobered him in an instant.

Two hours later saw him showered, shaved, in clean clothes and fed. Now reality. The rest of the day he planned his life. The biggest surprise to Giorgos was that it felt like a great weight had been lifted from his shoulders. He realised that the love he once had for Cassandra had died many years ago. His biggest regret was that he had not escaped the relationship a long time ago and found someone with whom he could have had children.

He spent the next few months putting his affairs in order. He smartened his appearance – new haircut and more modish clothes – then turned to his business. His love of baking reinvigorated, he revamped his tired shop and opened up his old wood burning ovens. He was embracing artisan baking and vowed to become the best bread baker in all of Greece. What better way to start than to win the national competition. Digging out his Great Grandmother’s Lagana recipe, he spent hours refining it until he was nearly confident that his take on Lagana was a winner. On the day before the event, he proved the last batch of Lagana and set in in the wood burning oven. ‘It’s in the lap of the Gods now.’ he muttered and with the last rake of the embers he sat down to wait.

He came to with a start and found himself sliding down a red silken slide, his hands failing to find purchase on the smooth material. Eventually he slid backwards and forwards until he stopped of his own volition. He felt himself being gently lifted and placed on the solid surface of the desktop. Looking up he found himself gazing into the eyes of the most beautiful young woman he had ever seen, perfect in every way . . . except she was fifty feet tall. He realised it was he who had fallen into the lap of a God or rather Goddess. She looked down at him in weary boredom. She did not open her mouth but words boomed in his head.

‘What are you doing here?’

This turned out to be the start of a bewildering wordless conversation.

‘Well, first of all, where am I?’

‘You're in Olympus, home of the Gods. I’m Demeter, Goddess of Agriculture. Agriculture! Now my sister Athena is Goddess of War and Wisdom.’ She spat the words out in contempt. ‘Why her? Why am I given second best? It’s him over there. He decided who was going to be who,’ she said, jerking her thumb over her shoulders insolently, ‘my Dad, Zeus.’

Zeus joined in the conversation by roaring at Demeter. ‘Mind your tongue.’

Glaring at him she mocked, ‘Am I bovered? Do I look bovered?’ All the while pointing v shaped digits at her own eyes.

Zeus then lost control. ‘How dare you behave in this manner. You are banished for a month.’

The room shook and Demeter vanished.

Zeus looked uncomfortable. ‘Sorry about all that. Kids! In the old days you could eat them when they became troublesome.’ He laughed. ‘Look, let’s share a bottle of nectar and you can tell me your worries.’

Giorgos apologised for dropping in on them unannounced but that it had not been his intention. All he had said was that he had done his very best and that it was up to the Gods to decide if it was enough.

By the time the second bottle was broached Zeus and Giorgos had become firm friends. Zeus said all it took to win was for him to have self-confidence, that he didn’t need any god’s help.

Giorgos in return pleaded Demeter’s case. You are very lucky, Zeus, you know, to have children. Don’t you remember what it was like to be young and very conscious of your status and how hungry you were to win your parent’s love and approval? How you lashed out in defence? Don’t punish her but try to support her. With age comes the wisdom she will need to enable her to appreciate her role in life and use her great powers wisely.

Dementer, listening in, was moved at his defence of her and, sensing in Giorgos a longing for children of his own, decided that she needed to intervene.

Giorgos came to with a start and laughed. What a dream. Scooping out his bread from the oven he placed them on the shop counter. That was when he saw her in the doorway – the future mother of his children and lifelong love of his life. It was then that he swore he could hear Demeter laugh.