Sunday, December 15/2013

The perfect Sunday morning, or one variety thereof. Sun streaming into the flat and a glimpse of the Mediterranean. Fresh oranges, local eggs, streaky bacon so lean that it makes us wonder where on earth they find the North American damp fat. Different pigs altogether, or is the explanation even worse? Toasted seeded bread. Honey with orange essence. Music. And the Sunday papers. Well, the Sunday Cyprus Mail anyway. About as thick as the Homes section in a normal paper, but supplemented by bits from a number of other papers courtesy of the wifi that reaches our flat now more (or sometimes less) efficiently. And the Cyprus paper does have a couple of decent puzzles as well as the local opeds.