Χαρακτηριστικά:

• The Day the Three Greek Sisters Brought Ancient Greece to an Ordinary English School Day.
• If you’ve ever been raised by a Greek mother in a foreign country, you’ll know that life is less about smooth sailing and more about a series of spectacular, often humiliating, but utterly hilarious cultural earthquakes.
• We, the three sisters, were born to a Greek mother who had migrated from a tiny island to England armed with little more than her faith in God, her sewing machine, and a level of English that hovered somewhere between “confused parrot” and “ancient oracle.”
• Now, my mother’s talent was not in remembering school events. In fact, she forgot everything: parents’ evenings, packed lunches, even that time she sent us to school on a bank holiday. But this time was different. The night before the school costume competition, she had a rare moment of organisational genius. She remembered — all on her own, without being reminded, threatened, or bribed — that tomorrow was the big day.
• And oh, how proud she was. She stayed up late sewing, glueing, and mumbling Greek prayers under her breath. For once, she would not just compete with the English “posh mums” — she would outdo them.
• Morning came. She woke us up early, positively glowing with anticipation. We were to be her masterpieces.
• I was dressed as a Greek village girl, with a full skirt and gold sovereign coins dangling proudly from my braids.
• My older sister was transformed into a Greek Athenian soldier, complete with oversized wooden shoes and the famous white pleated skirt — because yes, in our culture, real men wore skirts.
• And my middle sister, who was, shall we say, short and generously built, had been assigned the role of Cinderella’s Ugly Sister. (Whether this was subconscious Greek honesty or just mum’s idea of a joke, we shall never know.)
• We were blessed with a kiss, sprinkled with holy water, and sent marching into school like a troupe of extras from a low-budget Greek epic.
• And then… silence.
• As we entered the school assembly, the entire room froze. Teachers stopped mid-sentence, mouths wide open. Children stared as if Zeus himself had descended with three oddly dressed disciples. For a moment, we thought we had nailed it.
• Then reality struck.
• It was not costume day. It was not even school fête day. It was a perfectly ordinary, beige, uneventful English school morning.
• The laughter began like a ripple — a few giggles, then waves of hysterics. Soon, the entire school was howling. We had not just walked into assembly. We had paraded, in full technicolour glory, providing free entertainment for every teacher and child present.
• Humiliation? Absolutely. Trauma? Without a doubt. But as every Greek will tell you: if you don’t experience public humiliation at least once a week, can you even call yourself Greek?
• And mum? Did she learn her lesson? Of course not. From that day on, she continued to confuse sports days with spelling bees, Easter bonnet parades with maths tests, and school trips with dentist appointments. But one thing remained constant: she gave us the best stories, the loudest laughs, and the most unforgettable childhood.
• And so, to the English school system, we apologise. We didn’t mean to bring Ancient Greece into your morning assembly. But then again, what’s life without a little Greek drama?
• LOVE OPA OPA