Friday, December 30/2011

Meet Margaret at George's café. She has plans to attend a 65th birthday party, getting a ride there with a widower now sitting at the next table - but she's careful to add that she's not going with him - he can go and talk to his own friends once they're there. She and Leslie share a bacon and egg sandwich.


Stop at MTN to complain that my mobile won't send texts to Norway. They take it seriously, call me back, have me get the settings rechecked, and give me a new SIM card. A young man called Zacharias even gives me his phone number in case of problems. In Smart Store, on the way home, Maggi phones and, oddly, I can hear the Scots accent seconds before I identify the voice. She'll be here on Tuesday. Try texting her later, but no joy. When I phone, though, that does connect. Encouraging, but maddening.

Thursday, December 29/2011

Major renovations taking place in (what will be) Maggi's flat beneath us, with sounds like a giant dentist's drill.

Wednesday, December 28/2011

D-Day - d being for dentist. J comes along. Fortunately the dental surgery is next to the charity shop, because there's no reading material in English - just what appears to be religious matter in Greek. And a large fish tank. So he's able to nip next door for a book.

I've just said to J that there are really questions I should have been asked much sooner - such as whether I'm taking blood thinners, when the assistant takes me off to ask these slightly belated questions as well as others seemingly less useful. How many children do I have? And, strangest, what is my father's first name? And not deterred by the fact that he's dead. Not unusual in Cyprus according to others. But what possible use could they make of this info?

There are twenty-four religious icons on the wall, but no framed dental qualifications. Isthis significant? Then I'm moved to another room with too many icons to count. The specialist does speak English, but isn't all that forthcoming as he works. No friendly warnings before a sudden jab in the roof of themouth or general chat on how the extraction is progressing. In fact the chat, and jokes it would seem, are reserved for the assistant. At one point I hear him whispering to her and turn round to see that he has his arm around her.

But eventually over, all but the instruction sheet, the prescriptions - and the 180 euro payment, delivered in a room that does have the framed qualifications. Done.

Tuesday, December 27/2011

It's Jane and Bill's anniversary, and a lovely day. Off for home after breakfast. The drive starts along the coast, goes through the mountain chain, and continues thorugh plain that is almost prairie-like. Jane and Bill live in Pyla, near the border, so after we cross we stop at their house for coffee - and to admire their garden; flowers, herbs, and a prolific lemon tree amongst other things. Then lunch at a nice little café round the corner from the Sunflower - crowded with locals. And our Christmas weekend is over.

Monday, December 26/2011

Boxing Day., and dawns brightly over the orange grove. Flowering trees sparkling as well. Breakfast buffet fine, if interestingly arranged, e.g. queue slowed by the fact that cups and spoons are on one side of the hot water urn - tea bags and coffee powder on the other. Lovely sunny room.

After breakfast we drive out to Belapais, perched on the edge of the mountains looking down at Kyrenia. It's probably only 5 km or so from Kyrenia, but uphill most of the way. We've all walked it in the past and taking the car makes it zoom by. The centre of the village is a restaurant and shop next to the "tree of idleness" made famous by Lawrence Durrell in Bitter Lemons of Cyprus as the sleepy spot where men used to sit and play backgammon and drink coffee - not, in those days Nescafé.  Sadly, the restaurant has surrounded the tree so that it's no longer possible to sit under it.

Long before Durrell, Belapais was home to an abbey founded by the Augustinian monks who had been forced to leave Jerusalem when it was conquered by Saladdin. It's a ruin now, but a pretty impressive one, and in the days before spreading villas and suburbs it would have looked down over fruit trees and olive trees and wandering goats to the deep blue Mediterranean, the mountains of Turkey on the other side just visible as they merge with the clouds.

We set out to explore the abbey, starting with the church. There's some elaborate carving in the large Gothic space, and big chandeliers. The man in charge shows us an amazingly complex pulpit carved out of a single piece of hardwood. Interestingly, the decline of the abbey began not with the Turkish occupation, but after the Ottomans gave it to the Orthodox in 1570. Its moral decline began somewhat earlier, though. The Augustinians gave way almost immediately to the Norbertines  in the early 13th century, and by the mid sixteenth centry monks had one, or even two, wives and were accepting only their own children as novices. In its glory days, though, it was rich and influential, at times the residence, and then burial place, of kings. The refectory is the best preserved part, 30 metres by 10 metres, with a ceiling much higher than its width. A rose window is at the peak in the  eastern end, and on the north side windows overlook the Mediterranean, darkly blue in the distance beneath. A pulpit at one side would have been used by a monk reading to the others during meal times. The hall is now full of folding chairs, as the space is used on occasion for concerts.

It's warm in the sun after the stone chill, and we stop to enjoy coffee at the café in the grounds against this incredible background of aabbey ruins and sea.

Drive through the hills on the side of the mountains with more wonderful views. Then down along the coast, where we stop for lunch at a restaurant across from a beach where turtles come to lay their eggs. We only really want a sandwich, with dinner in the offing, and it's fine. But for me the truly impressive thing here is the toilet seat. Jane informs me that it's not unique, but I've never seen one like it. Before use, you press a button and the seat, which appears to be covered with something like cling wrap, rotates, providing a new and presumably pristine surface. Can't imagine how it works - hygienically that is, not mechanically. Disinfectant? Heat treatment? Little pixies in the back armed with new cling wrap?

Back at the Ship Inn, dinner comes almost too soon. J and I both order the fahita makings that Jane had Christmas Eve - and it is as nice as it looks, especially as Joe asks for and is delighted to receive what we only know as beber. That's the Turkish word for pepper, but what they have - only in North Cyprus and Turkey as far as we can see - is a softly flaked red pepper, medium hot.

Sunday, December 25/2011

Rain in the night such that it almost seems the swimming pool should be overflowing, but of course it isn't. After breakfast we take a dolmus (shared taxi, or in this case minibus - name means "stuffed" and is similar to the name for stuffed vegetables) into the centre of Kyrenia. They run every few minutes along the coast road - cheap and efficient and willing to pick you up anywhere along the route.

The centre has been spiffed up a little but we spot the little restaurant we used to eat at in the two weeks we spent here eleven years ago.  The rain begins, lightly, but we've already spotted a café on the corner in the harbour, windows on two sides and transparent plastic up on both, so thereès a good windbreak and a bit of a view.

After the rain we go over to the castle. Probably built in the 7th century BC, it was captured in 1191 by Richard the Lionheart on his way to the Crusades. It was enlarged in the 13th century and again after the Venetians took Cyprus. Itès an interesting enough castle in its own right, with dungeon and gunpowder room and chapel and tower, as well as the occasional life size figure in period costume, weighing the gunpowder, manning the canon, or occupying the torture wheel.

The prize exhibit, though, is the ship - fairly comprehensive remains of an ancient ship - circa 300 BC - that was recovered just off the coast of Kyrenia. Preserved in the mud for centuries, it was found largely intact, and what we have here is about 14 metres of an original 16 metre boat. Amazingly, it appears to have been about 80 years old when it sank, and period renovations included lead sheathing. The wood was Aleppo pine (therefore Syrian) and much of the contents of the ship survived and is on display, including curious square millstones which served as ballast on the outward trip, several amphora, which would have been roped in place, and, astonishingly, a sackful of almonds (original sack long gone, but almonds quite recognizable) and even grape pips! Recovered dishes suggest a crew of four and itès all too clear how exposed they would have been on this little open craft as it made its way (map there showing reconstructed journey) from Greece. It's interesting viewing it with Bill and Jane, as they have sailed in the Mediterranean for years and are familiar with both boats and routes. Bill points out that its construction involved adding the ribs after the exterior shell - the opposite of normal modern practice.

Christmas dinner is included in our holiday package and the menu has been posted since our arrival, with choices for starters, main course and dessert. J, J, and B all opt for smoked salmon and shrimp followed by turkey and I have brandied chicken liver paté and roast lamb with gravy. All very good, especially the smoked salmon. There are Christmas crackers with hats as well. We have a table near the front, nice for the music and the belly dancer - who would probably have had more cash tucked in below her bejewelled navel if the audience weren't made up mostly of men accompanied by their wives. The waiters do a fairly creditable Turkish/Greek style (both sides would be offended by the thought that there is little difference) dance, short on technical polish but high on energy and enthusiasm. And general dancing follows, as we sip our wine and watch.

Very different, but lovely Christmas.

Saturday, December 24/2011

Christmas Eve. It's rained all night and is still raining. Not quite what we'd hoped for, but we're all cheerful as we set off with Jane and Bill for the North. Jane has the border visa stop down to about 90 seconds, with everything ready in advance. Bill attentive to the changing speed limits - the cameras are out and when you leave the North you're presented with a bill for the fines.

We're at the Ship Inn, just west of Kyrenia on the road to Lapta.  A main hotel building and little white fourplexes clustered in gardens around the pool, one of which has our room, with patio doors opening onto an orange grove. Largish dining room with Christmas decorations and everything quite festive. Carafe of wine. Mushroom soup very good, though meat a little on the tough side. Jane's fahita makings - sizzling meat with onions and peppers straight of the grill quite impressive. Gypsy music wasn't gypsy, but was fine - though nice to have coffee in the lobby where we can hear our conversation. Quite a thunderstorm at night, with lightning flashing against the dramatic ragged mountains behind us.

Friday, December 23/2011

The day starts with rain, though it's not cold. By the time we leave to meet Margaret for coffee, it's stopped, and we end up with both umbrellas and sunglasses, ready for all eventualities. Margaret has already had, with another friend, two cups of Nescafé - her fluid maximum - but chats while we drink tea. Fortunately this week we remember M's Christmas card - her 49th she tells us.

J off to walk the beach while M and I walk down Kiteos St - she to the stationer's for puzzle books and I to the tourism office. I'm worried about her crossing busy streets, at 80 and blind in one eye. This is a country of shockigly bad driving - people backing out into traffic while talking on their mobiles and constantly running red lights. But I needn't have worried. She simply raises a hand to stop traffic so she can cross mid-block, and it works. "Yes, I was a policewoman."

Thursday, December 22/2011

Winter solstice: today is the shortest day of the year. The dentist calls, moving my appointment forward to today from tomorrow. My initial assumption that she is looking for a long Christmas weekend proves wrong - her husband is having surgery. So she begins what should have been a root canal only in order to stop with the discovery that the root is cracked, the upshot of which is that it will require extraction by a specialist. Would I like this to happen tomorrow, if possible, or after Christmas? Right then - the twenty-eighth. Well, this should allow for a couple of hearty meals for the condemned. And yes, if we were in Canada Ernie would have done the same with less sympathy and more expense.

Wednesday, December 21/2011

The lift is doing funny uneven jerky things as it goes. Fingers crossed we're not in it when it dies, but we're on the fourth floor - by North American reckoning the fifth (not counting the mezzanine). It's a long, if healthy, walk.

Walk back from downtown under thunderously black sky. It doesn't rain - but does produce a rainbow in the north.

Tuesday, December 20/2011

The handymen are back. On Thursday they put in new electrical switches, designed to turn off the heater/air conditioner if windows or sliding doors are opened. Quite a production, involving, at one point, four young men and a woman in tights, lined winter boots and a mauve sweater (who calls to mind Desmond Morris's view that the shape of the female bosom was intended by nature to mirror the shape of the buttocks) whose sole function seemed to be to hold the keys. With the regular maintenance man, his wife and child, and the two of us, the flat was more than full. Today we get the new windows - double glazing for both windows and balcony doors.

The manager has already told us that the intent is to retile the bathroom and replace bedroom and sitting room carpet with tile. Also to replace the bathtubs with shower units - in order, he says, to save water. Actually the tub which we have has had the valve that would allow the water to switch from shower to tub taps removed - a much cheaper and simpler solution to saving water. In fact the whole upgrading project seems unlikely to pay for itself in the first decade without substantial rent increases, which is our first thought. but it also seems to be a great deal of trouble to go to for management as chronically lazy as this. Thus our second thought: they're spiffing it up in order to sell.

Monday, December 19/2011

Still too warm to be Christmassy. the thermometer on the balcony at 37 this morning, though less in the shade, and a fair breeze moving the palm trees and the breakers. Our Christmas decorations now up - some Christmas ornaments and coloured tinsel and a few Christmas cards. The little stained glass Christmas tree on the balcony doors. And the "people" - a dozen brightly painted wooden figures an inch or two high. Santas and angels and snowmen and such grouped around little trees on the television set.

Sunday, December 18/2011

Out in the morning to pick up the Cyprus Sunday Mail. The "brother" is in the upper hallway, clearly working up to say something beyond good morning. "Downstairs. Two minutes. Letter." Right - so I stop by the reception desk on my way back with the newspaper. The brother is there now, eyes fixed on a book or paper in front of him. The letter is there too, a red envelope filling our letter box diagonally. I wait patiently in front of the desk two feet away from, but totally ignored by, the brother, until his left hand creeps up,the forefinger beginning a tentative exploration of the left nostril. "The letter," I say, hoping to get it uncontaminated, and am rewarded by being handed the card - with his right hand.

Down to St Helena's Anglican in the evening for the annual service of the nine lessons and carols. Only ten in the choir, but they do very well, with the rest of us joining in. the usual hazard that those singing old familiars from memory face, since the pc editors have been at the text, so that "man" becomes "all" and such. It's a difficult job given the limitations of rhythm and line length, so it's a relief to see that "born to raise the sons of earth" has perforce been left as is rather than being changed to "kids of earth."

Mulled wine and Christmas food upstairs afterward.

Saturday, December 17/2011

Market morning. The street where the craftsmen work has huge distilling vessels standing outside in the road, one copper and one silver coloured. Is home distilling a less surreptitious activity here than in Canada? The temperature is in the low twenties but much hotter in the direct sun. The proprietor of our favourite outside café waves to us nd we pick seats in the shade and order Cypriot coffee - dark and dense and served in small cups, always accompanied by a glass of water. The building opposite houses craft and souvenir shops, including one where a Ukrainian girl makes her own jewellery. At the other end of our café a boy - the owner's son? - plays Christmas carols on his clarinet, not quite fluently but with a fair repertoire.

J does an excellent job of making frozen spanakopita in the frying pan we have rather than the over we don't, as the instructions would have had it. Very nice, and he pops the cork on a bottle of dry Belgian "champagne" to go with it.

Friday, December 16/2011

Back to the dentist. There's nothing wrong with last week's filling except the same "stone in the shoe" sensation that went with pressure on the tooth before the filling. Xenia does an x-ray which appears on the screen in front of us. I need a root canal, she says. We can try antibiotics first, but....The only good thing about it is that a root canal costs less here than at home - 140 euros. All prices transparent and listed on a chart (in Greek) in the outer office.

We meet up with Margaret at George's Café, where she's already ensconced with a Nescafé. Suspect her of substituting her piece of toast (along with the marmalade George brings in a help-yourself jar) for either breakfast or lunch so that she gets to eat with company. A good plan, but hopefully her other meals have more nutritional substance.

Thursday, December 15/2011

So to the bank around the corner. Surely the address can't really be  the same as ours? J finds the Greek word for bank particularly appropriate, given the finances - trapeza. Though Cypriot finance is in somewhat better condition than Greek.

Wednesday, December 13/2011

Haircut, and a fairly good one. There are no appointments at the shop, so I take a book with me, prepared to wait, which results in my being taken after only five pages. I've never  had a bad haircut here, but it's always a little unnerving when the whole pre-cut conversation consists of my holding up thumb and forefinger to indicate the length to be removed and then saying "layered" and "fringe".

Looking for a Marfin Laiki bank as this was the only bank (on this occasion in Paphos) to allow us to withdraw more than 600 euros - thus avoiding extra withdrawal charges for frequent small amounts. The internet obliges with several addresses in Larnaca - one of which proves to be the precise address of our hotel. Bizarre.

Tuesday, December 13/2011

Stop on our way home at the Tourism office. J chats a little with the man on duty re the general state of the economy and, seemingly on impulse, he offers to phone Inter-cit and ask if the buses, which, he says, have run on public holidays so far, will in fact be running this Epiphany. Yes, his informant says, they will - on the Sunday schedule. So that - presumably - is that.

Monday, December 12/2011

Checking out the inter-city buses, as we've been invited to Erimi, near Limassol, to visit Jenny's father and his wife on wht turns out to be the Feast of the Epiphany, a major public holiday in Cyprus. we do have a leaflet explaining bus times, amazingly clearly, but it fails to mention holidays. The real problem is that it is quite possible to pursue this and get an answer, but equally possible that the answer will prove to be inaccurate. So I enlist Kikki's help, thinking that language, at least, will not be a barrier to communication. She's dubious, having had difficulty getting similar info in the past, but gives it a try.

The third number she tries (by now using my mobile as the hotel's phone in reception "can't call that number"), which is only one digit different from the number printed on the leaflet, seems to be the right one. Brief conversation in Greek. And? "She said to call back in two days." It would be nice to think that the schedule for 2012 is now being drawn up and will be ready on Wednesday, but it's equally probable that Wednesday is the speaker's day off and someone else will have to deal with problematic questions.

Sunday, December 11/2011

J has inherited my cold - now gone - so we decide not to share the sneezes at church. So morning in with brunch and the Cypriot Sunday Mail. It's a weekly treat for the puzzles and avoids the mindless chauvinism of the Cyprus Weekly - in fact a couple of the regular opinion pieces are quite good - but otherwise a bit lame. It does have the week's radio and tv listings, though this, of course, does nothing to improve the quality of the television offerings. But it's thin to begin with, and padded - not only with the usual advertising, but with articles that are very thinly disguised advertising and repeated news events, appearing in various parts of the paper in more or less detail.

One such repeat this week (appearing in three places) concerns the disruption of university elections by an invasion of about fifteen people in black, wearing helmets and brandishing bats and crowbars. They threatened student voters, threw chairs, used pepper spray, and stole four ballot boxes. Some have since been arrested (in one case because the helmets were still lying in the back seat of his car). Nor were these adolescent pranksters: one of those arrested was 27, and another a serving officer in the National Guard. Only in Cyprus.

Saturday, December 10/2011

Sunny, but there's quite a breeze. but our favourite café from last year has put up a windbreak, which doubles as a rail for "le patron" to hang his paintings. They're decor - but you're welcome to buy. Fewer tables than last year, though, when they used to spill out onto the sidewalk.

As always, Saturday is market day, a multicolour feast for the eyes, with boxes, bags and heaps of oranges, grapefruit, potatoes, broccoli, cucumbers, aubergines, carrots, courgettes, lettuce, nuts, cauliflower - and much more. We buy less than we used to here, partly because it is a long way to carry things and partly because Prinos greengrocer (known locally as a fruitaria) is very good and very near us.

Friday, December 9/2011

Dentist first. I suspect a broken filling, but it's a break in the tooth, fixed by Xenia, our dentist. One advantage to female dentists is smaller hands filling your mouth.

Surprisingly, we do get a tv working on all channels. The man we take to be the manager's brother comes, along with the cleaner, to investigate our defective arrangement. An interesting choice of personnel, as neither speaks any English. The first attempted solution is a switch of sets  with another flat. Not so good for the next tenants there if we're trading bad for good. Tomorrow, the brother says, of the exchange. But tomorrow may never come, and we realise that the reason for the postponement is the brother's inability to lift things - when we were collecting our stored belongings he raised his shirt to reveal more scarred anatomy than we needed to see, by way of apology for non assistance. So J effects the transfer. Still no luck. But then the digital boxes are exchanged and that does it - perfect reception.

We book a three day holiday (well, we've always said that the winters aren't our holiday - they're the other half of our life). We're joining Jane and Bill in a Christmas trip to Kyrenia in North Cyprus, breakfasts and Christmas dinner included. Nice to have company again after all those years when we got together with Maggi and Magne for Christmas dinner.

Thursday, December 8/2011

We've been in Larnaca for a week, though it feels like longer, probably because it's only eight months since we left the flat. Major thunder and lightning in the night, but nothing left of the storm but damp roads and a bruised sky in the morning.

The cleaner changes the sheets and towels this morning. I point out a stain on the bedspread, implying (I hope) that it too might well be changed. She's all smiles. Nai, nai, nai. It takes me a second to remember that nai (though pronounced nay) means yes in Greek. And the change is effected.

The same woman was enormously pleased to see us when we returned. But, as her lack of English is about as complete as my lack of Greek, we spent a rather awkward ride in the lift to the fourth floor. There's only so much grinning and nodding one can do before resorting to staring at the elevator buttons.

Wednesday, December 7/2011

Flirt with the idea of a Red Sea cruise (Thomson out of Limassol). Jane and Bill are going and it would be fun. Price pretty good too, but as we look at booking and are into insurance requirements, late booking charge, some hassle over the return flight (from Sharm El Sheikh via Cairo) we decide not to. Bit of excitement while it lasts though.

Tuesday, December 6/2011

Jane picks us up and takes us to their place in Pyla before we go out for a meal. Joe hasn't been here before, so it's all new to him, and a pleasure for both of us. There's a beautifully grgrant kaffir lime tree, of which they are justly proud, a luxuriant bay tree, various thriving herbs and flowers and a flame of the forest tree grown from seed. And we are given fat lemons from a heavily laden tree. We have tea inside and admire Jane's paintings as well as enjoying Bill's baking - little mince pies.

Chat and then out to eat at Vlachos on the Dekhelia Road, a Cypriot taverna in the old style: the owner is affable and the food plentiful. The nibbles before the meals arrive are a meal in themselves - a large bowl of salad, a basket of warm pita bread, plates of pilaf and scrambled egg with spinach, as well as olives with fresh lemon juice and spears of kohlrabi. We could easily decoare ourselves full, but find roomfor moussaka (J and J), chicken fillets (me) and gammon steak (B), all on large platters with homemade chips. There's a bottle of water and a large carafe of red wine as well, to say nothing of the complimentary bowl of fruit at the end of the meal. The bill comes to 48 euros ($66 CAD, £41) - tax and tip included in Cypriot bills. Andno one everhurries you in a Cypriot restaurant. The meal is respected as an occasion.

Monday, December 5/2011

Coffee at "George's" - if he has another name we don' know it. He has a café with mostly outside tables under a smoked glass roof. Ninety-nine percent of his customers, he says, sitting down for a moment at the table, are regulars. Inside there are classic movie posters. Gone with the Wind and Breakfast at Tiffanyès by the door, and so many inside that they're stacked several deep in the landing outside the loos.

We're here to meet Margaaret, a feisty woman in her eighties - I had my driver's licence stamped when I was eighty and I don't need it done again until I'm 83. The driver's licence is a bit of a problem as she's blind in one eye but lives a little outside the city. So she's come to an arraangement with the licensing inspector - she compliments him, she says, and he grants her a licence to drive in the daytime without passengers.

Margaret seems to have some regular coffee friends, which is reassuring as she's been rather lonely since her husband died. So we're introduced to Leslie, who works part time at the Body Shop and is afraid it will close; Petros, who used to live near Little Venice, the canal behind Paddington Station in London; and Maroula, a former chef, who is laden with shopping and off to make her grandson's lunch. Once more, coffee is a bit of a euphemism, though it is what the others are having, and in some cases toast as well. But it's been a mile's walk in the sun, so we split a large beer.

Sunday, December 4/2011

Some changes at Our Lady of Graces. Fr. Wilhelm is now gone, and a bit of the heart gone out of the liturgy. Still plenty of Philippina workers singing lustily, but no longer standing room only.

Down to the beach promenade in the afternoon. Unlike the one in Paphos, most people aren't tourists and few are speaking English. More variety though - more children, more locals, more nationalities, even more dogs on leashes. there's a giant Christmas tree - some 60 feet high with six foot high layers made alternately of plastic water bottles and drinks cans. It's rather more impressive than that sounds. the cafés are doing steady business and there are ice creams, drinks and balloons for sale along the walk.

Saturday, December 3/2011

Have a letter to mail but the queue isn't worth it. The place is full of pre-Christmas parcels - maids from the Philippines and Sri Lanka sending off huge boxes or buying money orders.

Coffee outside the Saturday market place with Jane and Bill. Or, rather, not precisely coffee: Jane has a frappé and Bill a juice, while J and I split a large beer. Beer here, as in Paphos, is frequently less expensive than Nescafé, as well as more refreshing. Bill and Jane have signed up for an eight day cruise from Limassol to Sharm El Sheik and J is interested in a side trip, which goes to El Alamein.

Friday, December 2/2011

Over to our favourite bakery for a loaf of our favourite sesame seed studded dark rye bread. In the gutter are two pairs of sandals and an orange. Oranges not uncommon in the streets here, but this one nowhere near an orange tree.

In Carrefour, Silent Night is playing faintly in the background. As J says, the first Christmas carols we heard were in Canada - the day after Hallowe'en.

Television here seems now to be digital. Thus we have a new box and a brilliant picture - but both state channels and Euronews have a "signal" problem. As J says, it's really a reception problem - the picture keeps breaking up and the sound stuttering. So it's possible to see, say, Sarkozy speaking, and even to establish the topic, but not actually to follow the speech. If war broke out we'd know, but we might never find out who'd won.

Thursday, December 1/2011

We're up early, having packed yesterday. No weight restrictions here, but extra unpacked jackets will be a nuisance in a hot shared taxi. It's here at 8:40, but takes some time filling up at various hotels, giving us a mini tour of Kato Paphos, as the driver makes cavalier right (equivalent to North American left) turns over an arched cobbled median. There are nine seats, including the driver's, and a surprising amount of room for luggage. Ours is no problem. the seat next to ours is taken by a young woman who speaks English, rather than Greek, to the driver, but with an Eastern European accent. We collect her at a posh hotel and she's headed for Larnaca airport, her only luggage a small flowered cloth carry-on bag.  I consider congratulating her on managing to travel so light, but think better of it.

In Limassol the exchange takes place with drug runner speed at a mall. We and the Eastern European girl are moined in the new van by an elderly Cypriot couple, cane in hand, packed in by solicitous younger family members. They're handed on to other relatives at a villaage stop just off the motorway. In the end the two quotes we've been given re prices are irrelevant, and we pay each driver €10 for a total of €20 for each of us. Not much different, but where did the €19.40 and €21.80 quotes come from?

Back at the Suflower, with emphasis on the sun. Acquiring a southern exposure is like moving to a different, and warer, country. Emotionally warmer, too - when Kikki  begins her afternoon shift at 3 there are hugs. 

Wednesday, November 30/2011

Last day of November  and last day in Paphos. there were more things that we meant to do, but we'll be back. All packing done today - and as usual we've bought too much food and have to decide what is takeable. Order Travel Express, a shared taxi service, for 9 a.m. - but it may be early so be ready by quarter to nine and allow 3 hours for the trip. It's about 140 km, but will involve shifting to a different vehicle in Limassol. The price is cited as €19.40 by the website, but the hefty blonde in the office told us €21.80. Not unusual for Cypriot websites to be out of date. What was unusual for Cyprus is that the woman could hardly get us out of the office fast enough - order one day before, she said, gesturing toward the door.

Tuesday, November 29/2011

Sign reading always a pleasure. Speculation on the nature of the "flee" market. and is Luky Dave, proclaimed above a shop in enormous letters, really lucky? While a hotel sign informs us that it is "strickly" forbidden to consume one's own food and drink in hotel rooms. rooms, as opposed to apartments, which is what we have, but is it legal to be this officious? Surely within reasonable limits it's the guest's own business what takes place in the room. One is reminded of the chinese hotel in which an employee entering the room encountered a naked female guest - who was told that undressing should only take place in the bathroom. Would prevent Strauss Kahn syndrome.

Monday, November 28/2011

Toying with the pros and cons of Paphos as a winter spot, as compared with Larnaca. Paphos is much more tourist friendly, and this hotel cleaner and better run than the Sunflower in Larnaca. Being touristy isn't always an asset, but far more people speak English, which is less isolating. In fact here at the Paphiessa English is the first language of most of the guests.

On the other hand, the television and radio are much better at the Sunflower in Larnaca, where there is a movie channel and several Cypriot channels that show occasional English films with Greek subtitles - not really high class entertainment but a diversion over the winter. There is also, thanks to the nearby British base, very good radio - BBC world service and a mix of BBC 4 and 5. Though, ironically, BBC World television, which is excellent here at the Paphiessa has more or less unintelligible sound at the Sunflower. And the daily rate at the Paphiessa is less. Well, it's nice to have choices.

Sunday, November 27/2011

Weather is fine, but we're slightly under it - cold or virus or whatever. So we give up our plans, including the one for watching the last race of the season - the Brazilian Grand Prix - at a sports bar down at the harbour. A rare treat. Fortunately the race isn't critical as the season championship was decided some time back.

Saturday, November 26/2011

An enormous Christmas tree is going up in the lounge as we go out - slotting together in dark green bottlebrush pieces, of course, but ceiling high, a good twelve feet.  More or less finished when we get back and pretty festive, if a little premature. Large red baubles and twinkling gold fairy lights.

J and I debate whether the two-toned birds outside are crows or magpies. He says their tails are too short for magpies, while I maintain that the colour is wrong for crows, though I can see that they're actually black and light grey rather than black and white, like magpies. He's right, of course: they're hooded crows, inhabiting the northwest of England, Scotland and Ireland, as well as central and eastern Europe - and Cyprus.

Friday, November 25/11

New glasses ready, though postponed from yesterday. The first time either of us has had prescription reading glasses.

Thursday, November 24/2011

Out to the fruit market in the morning. Any walk here is made beautiful by the flowers - cascading and in beds and flower boxes. There are still roses and pansies out in London but Cyprus is in much fuller bloom - hibiscus and bougainvillea cascading over stone walls and palms above the red tiled roofs.

Wednesday, November 23/2011

Our morning foray a little earlier as it's Wednesday and Cyprus still has the village habit of early closing - usually some time between 1 and 3 pm - on Wednesdays and Saturdays. We stop for a more thorough exploration of the ruins around Ayia Kyriaki. there's ongoing archaeological work and a fairly large area surrounding the ruins is fenced off. The original 4th century basillica was enormous (with seven aisles, many pillars of which are still standing) and there are the adjoining ruins of a 16th century Gothic Franciscan church. A large signboard relates St Paul's progress through Cyprus, coming from Silesia to Salamis, in the Famagusta area, then to Paphos from whence he sailed to Antalya - this all referenced to the book of Acts.

Then a second visit to St Michael's Hospice charity shop. There are tons of books but we restrict ourselves to five paperbacks - current additions to the 120 or so books on the Kobo which are our mainstay. I'm currently reading a Dorothy Sayers on the bookreaderas well as my bedtime reading of Flora Thompson (of Larkrise to Candleford fame) and reading aloud with J the autobiography of Clarence Darrow.

. Tuesday, November 22/2011

Decision day on the glasses. Write out the pros and cons of the shops we visited and revisit two of them. In the end we opt for the first shop we went to - the one where they didn't give us the fast talk. And J persuades them to add a pair of reading glasses for each of us for an extra 99 euros ($140 CAD, £85). So everybody happy and specs to be completed by midday Thursday (day after tomorrow). We treat ourselves to a pint at the café with the noisy parrot on the waterfront.

Monday, November 21/2011

Jenny and Doug arrive about 10 for our planned trip to Polis. Stunning blue sea and harbour views as we drive into the hills above Paphos. It's always slightly surprising how quickly Cyprus's traditional rural character makes itself felt as one leaves the city behind. There are suburbs of sorts, some of them housing developments produced for the boom that became a bubble and some small villages that have acquired modern additions. But it's not long before we're driving through hills terraced to prevent erosion and past orange groves. We're heading up the west coast and get occasional glimpses of sea before the route moves inland.

A lovely stop at Theletra, where there is the new village and the old village, accessed by a road that is little more than a winding track - one farmer using it beeps at all the blind corners, of which there are many. It's not quite abandoned now, as a few people have moved back and begun to restore a half dozen of the traditional Cypriot stone houses. The church has been repaired and is in very good shape. Doug finds a key in the door and we go in to find a couple of icons and beeswax tapers still burning. but overall the place is as silent as a completely deserted vilage, high on a hillside, the farm fields and the travelled road well below. There's little sound beyond the birds or the buzz of an idle fly near the derelict houses. There are pomegranate trees, orange trees, fig trees - and silence.

Then up past Polis on the Akamas Peninsula to Aphrodite's Baths, a grotto pool in the hills, shaded by a fig tree and, by tradition, the place where Aphrodite used to bathe and where she met her lover, Adonis. It's a nice, shady spot, and, as Jenny points out, this is particularly good in the hot, dry summer when the trees and running water provide a welcome respite.

There are miles of nature trails inthe surrounding hills and stunning views of the sea below. In the area below us caravans overlook the sea as well. It's a lovely spot and we all play with the notion of acquiring a caravan. Jenny hears goat bells and  eventually we see four sure-footed goats working their way along through the scrub beneath our track.

On the way back we stop at the village of Latchi, a fishing village -  aware of its tourist appeal but still a fishing village. They're redoing the harbour - and quite nicely, though they seem to have been redoing it for the last eight years, so it should be starting to look attractive by now. The restaurateur is resignedly amused. They only have two men working on it, he tells us, one of whom is the boss. So the boss mostly supervises, when he's not having coffee. Meanwhile we get a table overlooking a mix of gleaming white yachts and small fishing boats. It's a real fishing village, nets and all. And Jenny and I have the mixed fish plate for lunch. Very nice and filling enormous plates, with a whole red mullet, a whole large sardine and a complete other fish we can't identify, as well as deep fried kalamari and whitebait (dozens, it seems, of the little fish). Plus salad and chips. We can't finish and Joe and Doug, who have ordered curries, find that they are having curry with fish. good food, good view, and a relaxed familial feeling in a family run restaurant - small children in evidence. the kind of experience that is disappearing from the cities in Cyprus, sadly.

Dusk is approaching, so it's a quick stop in the older part of Polis, a nice little town with some medieval remains reminiscent  of the stone enclosure of the old caravanserai in Nicosia or the market in Larnaca. We want to get back to Paphos by dark because the road is hilly and winding and the drivers unpredictable. On our way up, a police car was pleased to overtake on a downhill curve as we all held our breath. As we descend to Paphos the lights, first of hillside villages and then of the city and harbour, begin to twinkle.

Tea and biscuits at our flat before we say goodbye. doug and Jenny will be flying back to London on Wednesday. It's been lovely being here at the same time.

Sunday, November 20/2011

Sunny and warm - in fact sun almost too warm, but we're not complaining! The historic Ayia Kyriaki church very popular for weddings, was built on the ruins of the largest early Byzantine basilica on Cyprus and is surrounded by stones and standing columns from the ruins. In the courtyard is a pillar to which, according to legend, St Paul was tied in order to be flogged. Surprisingly, the Greek Orthodox allow the church to be used by Anglican and Roman Catholic congregations. so we decide to go to Mass here, choosing the sung English Mass, which follows the Latin and Polish masses. Turns out it's standing room only, with some of the later arrivals standing outside the church. The building isn't configured so that everyone can see the front, but there are icons visible from every section, so art to look at meditatively. the little stone church is 16th century - one presumes the icons are somewhat later.

Saturday, November 19/2011

Spectacle shopping day. What rapidly appears is that almost any of the offers is much better than we could do at home or probably in Larnaca. But the deals are all different. Thereès the offer with a second pair, or the one pair from the man who actually knows something about eye problems and sounds as if his lenses are better, or the place that offers, rather embarrassingly, to send a taxi to pick us up and spare us the fifteen minute walk. Of course if only one of these places existed we would probably be delighted and place an order.

Friday, November 18/2011

Take  the alternate walk today to Paphos town, not much farther than the harbour walk, but uphill. The town centre isn't big but it is busy, with locals and tourists. The views of the harbour below are striking and there are some good coffee spots looking down. There's a covered market as well, with fruit and vegetables - elderly women pressing us to sample the oranges and guavas. There are also leather goods, jewellery and souvenirs.

Stop on the way back at a Russian shop (there are enormous numbers of Russians in Cyprus) where we find pepper and aubergine spreads and also at a greengrocer for oranges, grapes and coriander. There's a little charity shop on the road as well, but it's deciding whether to rain, so we head back.

In the lobby we use the earphones with the netbook to listen to the National - the first Canadian news broadcast in two weeks.

Thursday, November 17/2011As soon as we set out for the harbour, the sky darkens, and in fact it rains while we are in the supermarket but has stopped by the time we come out. Stop at one of the many optical shops on our way back. cyprus has a reputation for inexpensive glasses and it seems that this harbour ara is more fiercely competitive than Larnaca, perhaps because it's more touristed. It's quite easy to get a pair of vari-focals (progressives) with frames for €149 ($207 CAD, £125) - or less. We can't get BBC radio here - it's too far from the British base - but can and do download some BBC radio progrms to listen to later in our flat.

As soon as we set out for the harbour, the sky darkens, and in fact it rains while we are in the supermarket but has stopped by the time we come out. Stop at one of the many optical shops on our way back. cyprus has a reputation for inexpensive glasses and it seems that this harbour ara is more fiercely competitive than Larnaca, perhaps because it's more touristed. It's quite easy to get a pair of vari-focals (progressives) with frames for €149 ($207 CAD, £125) - or less.

We can't get BBC radio here - it's too far from the British base - but can and do download some BBC radio progrms to listen to later in our flat.

Wednesday, November 16/2011

Jenny and Doug arrive about quarter to twelve, having been delayed by a puncture before they set out and by the inaccuracies of the map.  It's a lovely day, though Doug says, disapprovingly, that this is not in accordance with the forecast.  Nice that it is, though, because we take the old coast road back and it is stunningly beautiful, with rugged cliffs above multicoloured sea.  Aphrodite's birthplace, a breathtaking mix of rock and foam. We drive through the British sovereign area, which contains the military base on which Jenny and Doug, as well as Jane and Dave (now retired in Cumbria) were living when we met on a Nile cruise. Then on to look at the ruins of a roman stadium as well as stopping at the beach below Curium (also very good Roman ruins). Jenny's a good guide because she remembers many of the places from 30 years ago and can chronicle the changes.

Jenny's father and his wife, Sam and Paddy Taylor, live in Erimi, a village a little south of Limassol. It's a lovely house and the back garden is beautiful, with a swimming pool, trees, flowers, statues, and tiled sitting areas for sun and shade.

And a lovely lunch as well - with chicken and mushrooms on basmati rice and a choice of apple tart or creme caramel - we're encouraged to try both and find it impossible to resist. It's a real pleasure to listen to Jenny's father's reminiscences - he's philosophical, knowledgeable and soft-spoken - and we could do so for much longer. He was born in Palestine of an English (Irish?) father, a military man who went in with General Allenby in 1917, and a Palestinian mother, and has spent much of his life in the Middle East. His second wife is Irish and turns out to be from Enniskillen, birthplace of my great great grandparents, in honour of which she gives me a copy of the Book of Kells.

J and D drive us back to Paphos and come in to see our flat. We have tea and coffee but no biscuits. Doesn't matter as no one has room anyway.

Tuesday, November 15/2011

Rain. Not quite what we signed up for, but always needed in cyprus so might as well be philosophical. So down to the waterfront again and second round of groceries.

Try to co-ordinate tomorrow with Jenny. She can't get her father's phone to text and the netbook (or the wifi?) refuses to send an email. So we hope that between doug's map downloading and our texting we'll link up.  We do  have a fairly good map - but it's downloaded onto the netbook with its tiny screen and we don't have printing facilities. And so it goes.

Monday, November14/2011

Ironically, we leave London on a warm sunny day and wake to clouds and predictions of rain - though it is warm, warmer than England. And there is bougainvillea blooming deeply pink beside our first floor (North Americans read second floor) balcony. Thereès a pair of sparrow-sized birds enjoying themselves among the blossoms, damp with last night's rain. so we venture forth ourselves, umbrellas prudently slipped on wrists.

We're about a kilometre from the seafront and the temperature is about 18 - maybe a little more as we do see some tourists in shorts, but then some Brits who have booked their fortnight in the sun dress for it, whether or not the weather co-operates. And the British are everywhere in Kato (lower) Paphos, the tourist area near the sea. A little like Albufeira's old town, with cafés on the pavement and plenty of signs advertising full English breakfasts or pints - the latter only €1.75, €1.69, €1.50. English is the predominant language of the passers-by, but J's eagle eye spots locals carrying bags of groceries. And soon we too find the supermarket, a relief after the insanely priced peripteros (often also styling themselves supermarkets), mainly featuring overpriced liquor and crisps.

So we begin with the basics, mindful that we're not here for much more than 2 weeks and it all has to be carried back to the Paphiessa. Tomatoes, passata, onions, garlic, courgettes, Spanish wine (on sale for 89 euro cents a litre, so why not gamble), lountza (smoked pork tenderloin, also on sale and beautifully lean), streaky bacon, extra virgin olive oil, eggs, mushrooms, fresh green beans, tomato paste, milk, bread and a tin of baked beans. We have cheese and peanut butter and coffee and tea with us, so it's a start. The real prize, when we get it home, is the bread - whole grain and heavily seeded - though with none of the usual North American/EU warning on nuts, seeds, etc - in fact no mention of same.

Get a bit lost coming back - between the winding roads and the inadequacies of the map - and it starts to rain, but we have umbrellas, and it's not cold.

The tv is a mixed asset. reception of BBC World and Cyprus Broadcasting Corporation and Sigma (private Cypriot) are very good - but the second Cypriot public station (which carries brief English news) is missing as are some local chanels. the good news, though, is that there is free wifi in the lobby. We ask about a password and the receptionist writes it out for us, but it turns out none is needed. 

Note that our chocolate bar nibbler of Saturday night may not indicate that we were living on the wrong side of the tracks.  Ten Downing St has acquired a cat - said to be a good mouser - after a rat was observed crossing the doorstep. Elevated, if not good, company.

Sunday, November 13/2011

Moving day. We take the bus from Bayswater to King's Cross - not crowded and moving freely on a Sunday morning - and then the train from St. Pancras to Gatwick. The suitcases felt heavy, but they're only 15½ to 16½ kilos, so we`re safely under the 20 kilo max. Even when J brought back two bottles of wine from Portugal, the case wasn`t overweight.
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Thomas Cook seems slightly more civilised than either EasyJet or Ryanair, although this may be because I booked a package that included a meal and choosing our seats as well as a texted info pack that never seems to have materialised. Actually the seats, as J points out, wouldn`t have been much worse if we hadn't picked them - middle and aisle and pretty narrow. But they're together. The meal is better than anticipated though, with chicken fillet and a chocolate pudding. Surprisingly, when we land the pilot warns the passengers that Paphos airport food is quite expensive and they may wish to acquire their food in advance when returning. Surprising not because it's not likely to be true, but because ppilots don't usually concern themselves with passengers' budgets and he wasn't even recommending purchasing food onboard.

Our transfer bus is a bit hard to find - a minibus hiding behind huge coaches - but it's there as promised and we are delivered to the Paphiessa where we've booked a studio. The studio turns out to be a one bedroom with fair-sized living/dining area, a microwave oven as well as the standard two burners, and full size bath and shower. There's pretty good furniture and drapes and a balcony accessible from both sitting area and bedroom. All for nine pounds 33p ($15.11 CAD, €10.91) a day.

Saturday, November 12/2011

Back to our Starbucks "office" - all working well now and wifi connectivity "excellent". The seating downstairs is comfortable and the music  mostly a pleasure - though it's a little unsettling to hear a sprinkling of Christmas carols in the mix when it's not quite mid-November. J brings the last of his coffee back to the room and Murphy's law strikes. He takes a sip and the lid falls off, causing curses and enough widespread coffee that my first thought is that he's spit it out. Hard to cover as much territory - shirt, quilted vest, carpet, bedspread - if trying. But several paper napkins and one wet bathtowel later, not bad.

Down to Bayswater for 5 o'clock in the hopes that the fireworks in honour of the new Lord Mayor will be visible. They're not (should ideally havebeen viewed from the Victoria Embankment) and they close the park at 5, as it's getting quite dark and presumably they're not keen on preventing drug dealers and campers from doing their thing.

We meet Alexander and Flora at Bel Canto (the Corus) at Lancaster Gate. It's next door to the Swan, a pub that is over 300 years old and, located as it is near the Tyburn gallows, gave many last drinks to those about to be executed. We're there for a dinner that includes arias presented by opera singers who double as waiters and waitresses.  they're very good and the basement restaurant not really quite large enough to hold their powerful voices. The food is good as well.  Champagne and starters and then A,F, and I have the duck's breast and J the seafood dish of the day with prawn, scallops and salmon in lobster sauce. So we have a visit to the opera as well as a first class meal. Popular arias from Carmen, etc. - and acted as well as sung. Excellent. It's fun and very nice. And so it should be too - for a total bill of £270 ($437 CAD, €313). We expect to follow the opera singers whose careers we've been underwriting as their careers blossom. Alexander tunes the piano here and the pianist is a pleasure in between the operatic offerings as well as when accompanying them.

Would have been good to have chatted a little more, but Flora is suffering from a miserable cold and the quality of the music makes talk difficult - as well as indecent.
Back to the hotel to find that the drama is not quite over. J has left a packet of Snickers on the bed and something has nibbled into the end bar. No other signs of infestation, but....

Friday, November 11/2011

Remembrance Day. Canadian commemorative poppiesare different from British ones - brilliant red felt covering over plastic rather than a faded red paper poppy with green plastic leaf and stem. The British ones are much closer to the colour of real poppies, so it's hard to decide whether the Canadian ones are more vibrant or simply vulgar.

The queen is laying a wreath at the official ceremonies, but eleven o'clock finds us at the Paddington Library for our two minutes of silence - and some internet access. The second time in two days that our path and her majesty's don't quite cross.

In the afternoon we walk along the Bayswater Road to the Tyburn convent and shrine. The chapel is serene, with ivory coloured walls and ceiling and clean lines. The cloistered Benedictine nuns sing an office and then file silently out of the other half of the chapel - behind the grille. The convent itself is early 20th century, but close to the site of the Tyburn gallows where Catholic martyrs, amongst others, were executed. If memory serves, the actual gallows were in what is now a nearby traffic intersection. But which one? More googling required.

Back along Edgware Road and Praed Street from Marble Arch. Edgware Road has become very middle eastern, with almost as many Arabic signs as English ones on shops. There are bakeries with plates heaped with pastries like the ones we buy in Damascus and Beirut in the windows. And there are many cafés and restaurants, customers smoking water pipes much in evidence at the outside tables.

Supper at a pub at the top end of Queensway. Nice chicken, ham and leek pie and good bitter. A German family are seated next to us, with no food or drink for some time until it occurs to us that they probably don't know they have to go to the bar to order. So J explains. There are  quite a lot of tourists about in Bayswater. Not entirely happily, for us, as it's a large part of what keeps pub and restaurants higher here than, say, in Kilburn.

Thursday, November 10/2011

Quite a bit of messing about with the netbook, which probably boils down to uneven connections in the free wifi spots.

Take the bus over to King's Cross to visit the British Library. It's the same bus we'll take on Sunday, as there are tube disruptions for maintenance on the weekend. The bus route seems fine. Forty-five minutes (not including a bit of shopping along Oxford Street) and it will be less congested on Sunday morning. The British Library, though, isn't on. Actually, it's completely roped off and surrounded by security men. It seems the queen is coming for the royal opening of an exhibit and the plebs will have to wait.

In the evening we meet up with Susan and Ian's niece, Kristin and Chris, her new boyfriend in the Tabard pub in Chiswick.  Lots of catch up with Kristin, who's about half way through her year here, and we enjoy Chris as well.

Wednesday, November 9/2011

Coffee and email at Starbucks on Queensway. Very civilised start to the day.

Out to Jean's in West Harrow. Our umbrellas do an excellent job of warding off rain and it's lovely and balmy. Shanthi is joining us but has been delayed by a signalling failure on the underground so we have time for some wine and a good chat before dinner when Shanthi and Priya join us for chicken and prawn curries. Lovely. And chocolate brownies with ice cream. As usual, we're spoiled.

Jean's been busy, not only with preparing the meal but with her choir, which undertakes such ambitious projects as Fauré's Requiem and works of Bach.

Tuesday, November 8/2011

Wake up about 9:30 - so much for closing the curtains at night.  So write off the early stop options and instead have breakfast at Subway and go over to the Paddington Library to check the email and get the news on the Saskatchewan election. Looks like James and Raye have jobs that are safe for a while yet.

Then by tube to Waterloo. Check out the National Theatre - sadly, Lenny Henry is playing in what looks like a marvellous production of A Comedy of Errors, but not until after we've left.  Along the Southbank to the Tate Modern.  The Turbine Hall installation is a film, about which we really know too little, though it does draw us in as we watch the 35 mm looking strip and its varied still and moving images.  No post production, its maker says. But how? As we leave, we notice that the repaired floor still shows the scars of Shibboleth, the shocking installation that produced an enormous crack in the cement floor of the building.

By bus to St. Paul's and the Occupy London encampment on the surrounding pavement. Too many tents to count, including large ones labelled Info and Occupy London University - where a man is seated on the ground holding forth to a half dozen listeners.  It's getting dark and fairly hard to see. Plenty  of notices and signs on every vertical surface. The tent interiors, of course, have no electricity, although a few candles flicker dimly.  There is electricity for the amp, though, and an open mike hour is just beginning on the steps of the cathedral.  Some level of disagreement within the Church of England over the protesters, with two of St. Paul's clergy already having resigned. One newspaper pointed out that if the occupiers remain they could conceivably cause distress to Church goers on Christmas Eve. Regular Sunday attenders, it would seem, are made of sterner stuff.

Back to the Old Bell on Kilburn High Street for a vegetable curry with rice (two for six pounds fifty and surprisingly good - and hot) and a pint of bitter each.

Monday, November 7/2011

Down to Charing Cross to do the banking.  Our money order should take between six days and six weeks to actually appear in the account. Do we get a vote on bankers' bonuses?

Next stop should be Canada House on Trafalgar Square for a quick email check. But it's boarded up and closed for renovations. Probably not a permanent cutback though, as it seems to exist mainly for business people and not the plebs. So on to the third item on the list - tracking down the location for tonight's lecture at the London School of Economics.  Good thing too, as the school sprawls across a number of lanes and the building we want is not on Houghton, as advertised, but on the corner of Sardinia and King.

By this time we're not far from a William Morris exhibition on Temple Place. Two Temple Place is considerably more than a building housing works by Morris.  It's a tribute to the aesthetic movement and Morris's belief that people should live surrounded by beauty. And beautiful the house is, with elaborately carved wood on benches, ceilings and staircases - the main staircase incorporating two-foot high carvings of figures from The Three Musketeers.  there are also beautiful tapestries designed by Morris and Burne-Jones, several of them illustrating The Romance of the Rose, as well as stained glass panels on walls and skylights and elaborate mantelpieces and fireplaces. At one point the house belonged to Lord Astor, but it has long been held by a trust. There are quite a few viewers, including small groups of children aged about eight, intently making copies of some of the works.

Back in Bayswater we visit the Paddington library to take advantage of magazines (J) and wifi (me). A quietly busy place with plenty of serious students. Then back to the LSE for the lecture on the recent Arab uprisings. It's an hour's lecture by Dr. John Chalcraft, held in a very full and hot room.  J is disappointed in its content - long on theory and short on specific current information. He's right, but I'm pleased with the slant, and some of the comments are interesting. For example, MI 6's advice re Libya, ignored by David Cameron, was to stick with the devil he knew. And the cheers with which Egyptians greeted the army were not simply politically discreet - the Egyptians genuinely believed (and correctly it seems) that the soldiers were their brothers. But so many unanswered questions. Why is Bahrain different, and who are the Libyan rebels? And, and..? J  is probably right - this is a lecture the speaker has given before.

Sunday, November 6/2011

There's a major exhibition of the paintings of Tom Thomson and the Group of Seven on at the Dulwich Picture Gallery.  The gallery itself is southeast of Brixton, a longish bus ride from Oxford Circus past Brixton's rough shabbiness and into southern parks and schools.  It has quite a history, beginning in the early 19th century, and is in fact in delighted possession of a guestbook signed by Vincent Van Gogh.

The Canadian exhibit is a large one with quite a few cnvasses of Thomson, McDonald, and Varley, as well as a number of the other group members. As always "live" canvasses are so different in effect from the reproductions. I'm struck by an odd echo of Gauguin - something in the colours and the rawness, though many of the smaller (and later?) ones have a much more Group of Seven feel.  It's difficult to talk about early or late Thomson when he died at 40. I grew up with the reproductions on the wall, though, courtesy of Thomson's nephew, who was a friend of my parents'.

Several of the artists, including Thomson, have twinned pictures, small and large, with the small picture (8"x10"?) functioning as a sketch done in oils, though perhaps with a limited palette.  Probably a way of rememberingcolour.  One small Thomson, though with no accompanying large version, has glowing tamarack trees. We're also taken wit a large canvas by Johnston showing Kenora from the water, its profile in the distance.  There are a few of Lawren Harris's paintings as well, some of them looking a generation more modern, with simpler colours and cleaner lines. There are quite a few viewers at the exhibition - a mixed British and Canadian lot, judging by accent.

Outside the Dulwich Gallery, the grounds are treed and the leaves echo the autumn paintings inside, especially the red maple lea shaped ones of some young gum trees.

Saturday, November 5/2011

This is Guy Fawkes Day but we opt not to head for the official celebrations as the early forecasts suggests drizzle.  Breakfast at Subway on Queensway: toasted subs with egg, cheese, turkey rashers and veg, along with pretty good coffee for two quid each ($3.20 CAD, €2.30), eat in or at the little table outside, which it's warm enough to do with a light jacket on.

Bus from the Bayswater Road to Trafalgar, a tantalising mini tour in itself.  Just west of Marble Arch we see Tyburn Convent and, next to it, a shrine to the Tyburn martyrs, and mark it for later investigation. Is this the site of the old Tyburn gallows? The bus does a bit of detouring and we pass iconic streets - Wimpole and Harley Streets and Savile Row and Berkley Square - before abandoning the bus to congested traffic near Piccadilly Circus. The detour seems to have been occasioned by a demo representing the 99% who aren't wealthy, as proclaimed on their signs, and we meet up with them, drums and all, near Trafalgar.  As we head off along Whitehall near the Banqueting House, site of the execution of King Charles I, a young man strides past in cape and Guy Fawkes mask, bearing a sign announcing that The Rebellion is Coming.

It's getting dark, although not late, so we go by tube to Kilburn and reacquaint ourselves with the high street.  It's not quite as busy as Queensway, but more real in a way, as the people in the restaurants and pubs and street markets are local - possibly recent immigrants or temporary workers, but not tourists.  Baskets of seafood and chips and a pint of bitter each at The Old Bell. Prices are good and atmosphere friendly, although there never seem to be more than three women in the pub at a time.

Home with a fat Saturday Guardian and brochures for theatre and exhibitions to read. We're back before the fireworks start but hear them sporadically throughout the evening.

Friday, November 4/2011

To Jenny and Doug's in Thames Ditton for lunch. They're preparing to leave on Sunday for two weeks in Cyprus staying with Jenny's father.  By seeing them now we can also see Jenny's mum as well as Emma and her girls, Leila (born two weeks after we were here last) and Jasmine, now close to three.  It's Laura's birthday and she is here with Cody (same age as Jasmine) and later Kai, who gets picked up after a school trip.  So, luckily, we get in on the birthday cake, a Victoria sponge made by Jenny with decorations courtesy of Jasmine.

Dark by the time we come back in the laate afternoon, a reminder that London is well northof most Canadian locations.  Quick look along Camden High Street but things are shutting down, so we take the tube home.  quite a few people with oddly coloured hair - emerald green, pink, violet.  Is this for Hallowe'en, Guy Fawkes' Day or just part of the great pantomime of life?

Thursday, November 3, 2011

We should have left at ten minutes to midnight (technically yesterday), but as we are queuing at the gate we see the pilots and cabin crew leaving the plane - not a good omen.  We ask the pilot as he passes: no, it's all right - we will go but they're checking out a water leak.  If they can't fix it we'll go on a different plane.  Meanwhile the crew is off for coffee.

So shortly after 2 a.m. we are underway on the new unleaky airplane.  Dinner at 3 a.m. - or 8 a.m. GMT if you prefer.  Which puts us  at the hotel about 3 p.m. GMT. It's just off Queensway in Bayswater.  Fairly basic, but the ceiling is over twelve feet high and gorgeous (Victorian?) with an elaborate plaster braid around what is clearly the original perimeter. There's more plaster decoration around the ceiling light fixture, and an oval mirror over the sink and a second one in the door of the old wooden wardrobe. Sink in one corner and loo in another are much later additions.

Not doing our own cooking this time, so over to Queensway to explore local options.  Humming as always and some OK choices at fast foods as well as a fairly good Tesco and some Lebanese and Asian spots. Also the full size Marks and Spencer in the four storey "mall" made out of the classic old Whiteley's Department Store - 19th century and still with traces of its original grandeur.

Tuesday, April 19/2911

We're booked to go to a presentation of short war films at the War Museum this morning. We're expecting a bit of a mix, including some period propaganda. What we get is so much more. Many of the shorts are silents (more properly known as mutes, as they were never actually shown in silence). They were accompanied by music, often ad libbed by a piaist who played while watching the screen. Sometimes the film came with a suggested medley with cues on where to change to the next bit.

Luckily for us, we have a wonderful pianist, Stephen Horne, here today. He has 25 years experience with playing for mute films and is quite amazing. Also we're fortunate to have Toby Haggith as presenter. He's passionately engaged, as well as knowledgeable. Interesting contrasts as music accompanying WWI tank sequence very cheerful - Entrance of the Gladiators (Entrance of the Clowns) - quite shocking to modern sensibilities, but reflecting a buoyant sense that the tank would bring a triumphant end to the war. Also some quite humorous, as well as other perfectly serious, government messages on things like composting or using grated potatoes in place of suet in puddings. Actually quite a variety.

Stop briefly on the way back at Camden High St McDonald's - not our favourite, but we do have vouchers and by now we're hungry. There aren't many seats to begin with, but four are being occupied by a woman and her daughter, aged about six. They are consuming a commercially prepared sandwich and two drinks, none of which were purchased at McDs. Fully ensconced when we arrive and showing no signs of leaving when we go.

Get a quick hair trim on Kilburn High Road. The evening spent packing.

Monday, April 18/2011

Down to Piccadilly to the retro shop on Great Windmill. Lots of fun amidst the old posters, film star photos, etc. Carnaby St not at all what it was in the sixties (not surprisingly) or even retro. Liberty's what it always was - beautiful and expensive.

Then out to say goodbye to Jean. Wine and lovely Asian snacks and talk, and Shanthi comes over as well. Jean off to Fredericton next month.

Sunday, April 17/2011

The Shanghai Grand Prix. Fortunately at 7 rather than 6 a.m. - much easier to stay awake. Hamilton wins. A good race - not simply decided in the pits.

In the afternoon over to Jenny and Doug's. Emma now two weeks away from due date and Jasmine now an articulate and charming little girl, about to become a big sister. Doug and Jenny just back from a two and a half week cruise of the eastern Mediterranean, which seems to have been a good one. Jenny's mum there too, so we get to visit, and Giles comes in from house renovations. We stay to tea (good samosas) and Jenny and I get a bit of catch up time in the kitchen. Doug and J get to catch up as well - from plumbing to the economy. So nice we didn't miss them.

Saturday, April 16/2011

Out to Hammersmith, along King's Road. A keeper for next year. The Oxfam shop has books we'd love to take but have no room for. Next year must come with empty suitcases!

In the evening meet Alexander and Flora for tapas at Tierra Brindisa in Soho. More or less kitty corner to the John Snow pub, site of a large protest last night, billed as a kiss-in, following the eviction the previous evening of a gay couple caught kissing in the pub. Lots of people drinking outside tonight and no commotion. Lovely seeing A and F again - in between their trips to Antigua and Cuba. Food known for its quality not its quantity - but very nice. J with scallops and I with prawns and shared potato tortilla. A and F with lamb. Also herbed toast. Very good. Then to Italia for coffee. Soho alive and humming. We don't go out enough at night! Brief panic as I think I've left the new mobile behind but no - it's in my handbag all along. Could the confusion have anything to do with the two bottles of Spanish red?

Friday, April 15/2011

Up to Hampstead to Keats' house, the place where he lived from 1819 to 1821, at a time when Hampstead was mostly fields, accessible from London by stagecoach, the nearest stagecoach stopping point being the location of the present Royal Free Hospital. Keats had moved there to nurse his younger brother Tom who was dying of TB - and contracted it himself. The house, to which he moved after Tom's death, was owned by a friend, and was originally divided into two houses - the other part being occupied by the Brawne family, including young Fanny Brawne, to whom he became engaged. Very informative guide, and a moving experience, especially after yesterday's talk. Keats came down with TB here and left from here on his trip to Rome in the hope of a cure in a warmer climate - though no one who has been in Rome in midwinter would have held out a great deal of hope.

Thursday, April 14/2011

Talk at the National Portrait Gallery at 1:15 by Oliver Herford on a Keats portrait by Severn. Very good - careful, scholarly and moving. Easy to forget how very young Keats was - died in Rome at 25. Severn, his friend, accompanied him to Rome and stayed with him until his death a few weeks later.

Supper at the Old Bell in Kilburn. Curry night. Curry and a pint for £6.

Wednesday, April 13/2011

Down to Oxford St. by bus. Lilacs now out as well as cherry blossoms. Selfridge's is always a pleasure to stop at, though we seldom buy. Three pounds for a very small but no doubt exquisite petit four. It's really pornography of the very nicest sort.

After supper over to Angel to meet Kristen. First pub we try is too full, too loud, but the next is good upstairs. On Upper Street - but what was it? K enjoying London and now has flat share.

Tuesday, April 12/2011

Cooler, but despite threats from the weatherpeople it stays pretty fine. Go up to Haverstock Hill where a man is trimming a tree. Very brave of him too, as the tree is a good 50 feet high, taller than the surrounding houses. He's tied to the trunk, but the distance from the man to the knot is greater than that from the knot to the ground, so....Then down to the Embankment, and we walk along the Thames as far as the Temple, grounds of the legal profession. Lovely gardens and some of the buildings are very nice too. Then along Fleet Street and up past St. Paul's.

Then across the Millenium Bridge to the Tate Modern. The exhibition in the Great Hall is Ai Weiwei's Sunflower Seeds - hundreds of thousands of them, all made out of ceramic, individually crafted and hand-painted. A little uninspiring initially, if impressive in sheer quantity. But interesting metaphorical implications in terms of the concept of the individual and the effect en masse. Worryingly, Weiwei was stopped at Beijing Airport on April 3 by authorities and has not been seen or heard from since. Authorities have referred to suspected economic crimes - probably read tax disputes - but his family believe that pro-democracy activism is the problem.

Monday, April 11/2011

Walk from Notting Hill back along Kensington Gardens and then up Queensway. Is it just imagination or is it going, happily, a bit downscale again? A bit more in the way of shops spilling out onto the sidewalk and a bit less in the way of chains. More like we remember from 20 years ago? Or is this wishful thinking? Stop at Baron's hotel. Are they still there? Yes, and still remember us. We'll be back.

There's a little Tesco there that always has excellent mark-downs - things with absolutely nothing wrong that they're clearing - so we get some strawberries and blackberries. Beautiful looking - and tasting too, it turns out.

Sunday, April 10/2011

The morning begins with the race. As it's Asian, we're much luckier than North Americans. Nine a.m. here is 3 a.m. Central Daylight. Plenty of passing room on the track but no one passes young Sebastian Vettel.

In the afternoon we decide to walk King's Road, Chelsea, home of all kinds of creative ferment in the sixties. Tube to Sloan Square - and wonder which hotel it was where Oscar Wilde was arrested. We're right by the Saatchi Gallery, so stop. It's always an interesting visit, and today is no exception. Fascinating exhibit by Tessa Farmer. A large rectangular glass container holding a number of miniature sculptures. The figures are less than a centimetre high and made of "dessicated insect remains, dried plant roots and other organic ephemera" with real insect wings. Fairies, perhaps, but dark fairies indulging in a "microscopic apocalypse." Quite amazing. http://www.saatchi-gallery.co.uk/artists/tessa_farmer.htm

A summery walk down King`s Road, but sadly the repairs to The World`s End Distillery Pub are not quite finished. J finds a man having a smoke in a back doorway and inquires. It will reopen April 18. So it's still in store. Former Labour Home Secretary Alan Johnson, interviewed soon after his appointment to cabinet, suggests that his recent appointment to a high cabinet position didn't quite live up to his youth on King's Road, Chelsea:

I went to school on the King’s Road, Chelsea, in the Sixties. We used to sit at lunchtime outside the World’s End pub because that’s where Mick Jagger and Keith Richards drank. It was just a buzz, a real buzz, a really exciting time. I’ve never [recaptured] the excitement of playing in a band. Nothing has re-created that for me and I did it when I was really young, I was playing in pubs I was too young to drink in. [New Statesman interview]

So home by bus, one that crosses through Kensington and Notting Hill to Kilburn.

Saturday, April 9/2011

Start by watching qualifying for tomorrow's Malaysian Grand Prix. So, lazy start, which is a shame really, because the weather continues to be lovely - the pink magnolias now out. We walk up the hill. Charing Cross Road becomes Tottenham Court Road, which becomes Camden High Street, which becomes Haverstock Hill, which becomes Rosslyn Hill, which becomes Hampstead High Street. We join it at the Haverstock Hill bit. The cafés and pubs are all spilling out into the sunshine on the pavements - or in the gardens for those lucky enough to have them. Lots of boutiques and little upscale shops and restaurants. Then down to Camden Town by tube. Inverness Street Market humming. Used to be market stalls with fruit and veg, and there still are, but now also clothing, football souvenirs and trendy fast food. Also hit the stores along Camaden High Street to top up the groceries - spaghetti, onions, cherry tomatoes, peppers, seeded wholegrain bread.

Friday, April 8/2011

Another warm, sunny day, so we take the bus up north Finchley Road to where it becomes Regent's Park Road. This takes up through Golder's Green and up to Finchley Central tube station. It's a mixed area - Jewish, Iranian and Polish, amongst others. There's a Polish shop that J spotted in one of the Polish newspapers. It's not bad, but probably not as good as some of the more accessible ones.

Then back to Kilburn, rapidly becoming our favourite multi-ethnic corner of the city. It's hot in the sun so, vitamin D not withstanding, we take a break in the shade in a large park just behind the Black Lion Pub. There are young families and sunbathers and a few boys with a football. A couple of dogs getting in on the action and plenty of room for everyone. We're sitting near some friends who are sharing a chat and a drink. They're young Caribbeans and one of them, dressed in yellow team shorts and shirt, is putting on an impromptu performance, part rant and part song, the song bit fairly good and probably consisting of off the cuff variations on existing songs. He's a philosopher, an entertainer and a wit.

Back on the street and past pound shops and pubs. There's an Afghani restaurant (Ariana II) and Roses with the Polish food, not to be confused with the Najlepsy (Polish for best) Halal (Moslem equivalent of kosher) Food - that's the nearby butcher. Butchers have meat on tables outside the shop. Good prices on eggs. And there's a fishmonger's. Most shops have open doors so that the line between shop and street is blurred. Plenty of places to unlock phones and a few to place bets. Fruit and vegetable stalls on some of the corners with baskets of oranges, peppers, strawberries, tomatoes.

We wind up at the Old Bell pub. Menu full of specials. J goes for the steak and chips and veg with a pint of beer for £5.95 ($9.30 CAD, €6.70), but you can also eat two meals for £6 - beer not included - from a fairly wide range of dishes. And there`s an old couple there having pasta with wine - pay for two large glasses and they give you the rest of the bottle.

Back along the east side of the street - now no longer in the full sun. A large man walking ahead of us with a stick such as one might use for street cleaning scoops up an apple, tosses it about and then eats it. J, who has a better view than I of the performance, says that it was actually more core than apple. We see the man briefly a little later, sitting on a sofa ouside a furniture shop and drinking a bottle of water of unknown provenance.

Home in time for double Coronation Street.

Thursday, April 7/2011

The temperature yesterday must have been something like 23 - and sunny. Lots of vitamin D absorbed. Today is nearly as warm Nineteen or twenty but warmer in the sun. First down to Buckingham Palace in order to see the Canadian War Memorial in Green Park. It needs major repairs, which Canadian Veterans Affairs has agreed to as Conrad Black, who had been seeing to its upkeep, stopped paying as he hit other difficulties. However the workmen there now explain that the pumps for the water that runs over the surface are rusted out and need replacing - seems relatively poor engineering for something created in 1994. The replacement is on hold now, though, and it's being cleaned up so that it looks presentable during the Royal Wedding festivities.

Then we set out to sun ourselves walking along the south bank, perhaps as far as the Tate Modern or even the Globe. But we get just past the National Theatre and as far as a sign advertising south bank events where we see that the BFI Cinema is offering a showing of Anatomy of a Murder free to people over 60. So we go. Queue for returned tickets and are lucky. It's a large comfortable theatre and there's an intro by a Duke Ellington expert (re the soundtrack). Lovely afternoon. It`s really too nice to have been indoors, but tomorrow should be sunny as well.

On the way home J and I get separated - for the first time ever on the tube. Must have happened on the escalators at Waterloo - and we never do figure out how. The standard arrangement is that the one who gets on the train gets off at the next platform and waits - but this assumes that one person has got on a train and then the doors have closed before the second person boards. There was no clear plan for a situation in which both of us claim "but you were right behind me on the escalator and then you vanished!" Separately we check around the escalators, get on the train, alight at Westminster and check the platform, and then take the next train to Swiss Cottage - where J is waiting for me on the platform. Mystery unsolved but happy ending.

Wednesday, April 6/2011

This is our day for lectures. Over to the Wellcome on Euston Road in the morning. There's an exhibition here on dirt - everything from women sweeping in Dutch paintings to photographs of low caste people in India cleaning out human waste with their bare hands. The question of what dirt is receives the answer "matter out of place." We've picked today to visit because at lunchtime Dr. Adrian Martineau, a medical researcher is presenting information on his work on Vitamin D. Very interesting. Basically he describes the relationship between Vitamin D and higher immunity to quite a number of diseases, from TB to type 2 diabetes to some cancers, and suggests that current recommended daily requirements are quite a bit too low. There are other exhibits in the permanent collection here as well - some more interesting than the dirt one, including some stunning electron microscope photographs and displays of early medical instruments, including more bizarre items, such as an undoubtedly politically incorrect shrunken head.

In the evening we go to Westminster Cathedral Hall for a talk on faith and diplomacy by Francis Campbell, a young man just finishing five years as UK Ambassador to the Vatican and about to be reassigned to Pakistan. Very diplomaatic and discreet (for a former aide to Tony Blair) in his answers to questions, but a nice self-effacing style and view of the value of friendship and relationship in diplomacy in counteracting inevitable differences.