Tuesday, March 13/2018

To Harry's Café for coffee - and a small unexpected slice of chocolate cake. The canary cage is out as usual, and the canary singing away. As the owner says, the music is free. J always hears the song as happy, but I'm less sure. We don't speak canary, and it is caged. A pigeon lands on the table next to the bird cage, spying some crumbs there, and the canary is not happy, though somewhat short of panicked. It retreats to the top perch and keeps a wary eye out.

There's rarely anyone in the flat next to us but it does seem to be occupied. Trainers permanently on the little balcony and window sometimes open. Tonight, though, there are sounds of a television, not loud enough to be disturbing but arousing our curiosity. There is also an unmistakeable scent of weed. This is interesting because the laws on marijuana are pretty draconian in Cyprus. While we couldn't care less whether our neighbour is using, it seems reckless of him to assume that no one in the building would be the sort to call the police and self-righteously report illegal drug use.