After coffee J and I pass a small second hand shop. Would say a junk shop as it's chaotic and dusty, but some of the "junk" is quite interesting. There are four books lying on a dresser, one of which is Vera Brittain's Testament of Youth. In one of those coincidences one would know better than to put in a novel, I am currently reading its sequel, borrowed electronically from the Open Library. What has drawn us in is the sight of a ghetto blaster. (That does sound offensively politically incorrect - must find out what they should be called). The radio in ours, also acquired second hand locally, is not very good. Almost impossible to tune it to the British base nearby, which provides English radio, much of it retransmitted BBC. The shop owner is helpful. More interested really in discussing politics and the current state of Syria than in pushing a sale. He has been following events subsequent to the shooting down of the Russian jet which did (or alternatively did not) invade Turkish air space for 17 seconds, and has a number of perceptive comments. Then, continuing with the same quiet consideration he goes on to say that it's all down to Zionists who have implanted chips in everyone and can get you anywhere. Sudden vision of the world as a madhouse full of seemingly normal, intelligent, well-informed patients who without warning excuse themselves as the Martians are waiting.
Stop at St Helena's charity shop and it's abuzz with women in hijabs examining everything, especially the clothing. Apparently they are refugees who meet nearby on Fridays and the shop is handy afterward. Pick up a sleeveless top, despite being warned that this is likely to bring an end to the unusually warm weather.
J to Prinos in the afternoon and back with a bag of sweet, succulent pink grapefruit. When we spotted them first we thought that the sign said 49 (euro) cents each, which still seemed desirable. Turns out it was per kilo, making one grapefruit about €0.20 ($0:29 CAD, £0.14). And they're beautiful. J, with admirable patience segments them, removing all the membranes and their bitterness, as he learned to do in Japan, and they're sweet and delicious.
