Saturday, February 7/2026

Head down to our little supermarket and spot on the edge of a puddle a five lira note, only slightly wet. And pick it up. 

For reasons which we decide are somewhat amusing. First of all it’s a bill and not a coin. There are five lira coins but you seldom see them. But that doesn’t make it particularly valuable. The smallest Canadian note is a five dollar bill - worth approximately 160 Turkish lira. The smallest UK note is five pounds, worth about 297 lira. So our damp little acquisition is worth roughly fifteen cents - or 8p.

So why did we do it - and why did the person who dropped it not bother (assuming they noticed)? Well, you don’t have to have a memory that goes back all that far to remember a lira that was worth quite a lot more. When we were first locked down in Famagusta in March of 2020, not quite six years ago, one euro cost 7 Turkish lira. Now it would be 51. So probably our instinctive reaction to leaving a bank note lying on the road has not changed quite as quickly as the value of said bank note has.

Maybe it was dropped by a kid. Could be there’s an age factor as well. J observed years ago that students would not bother to pick up a quarter lying on the hallway floor. Staff would.

Friday, February 6/2026

Unsettled weather but the morning rain disappears so we can walk down to the Blue Song for our usual Friday gathering. Temperature only about eighteen but the walk long enough to work up a thirst for our regular draft. 

Fluctuating numbers in our group but only seven of us today. Always good talk, frequently informative, and plenty of wit. But also a reminder that many people maintain equanimity and humour in the face of circumstances where that is the only defence.

Thus C mostly doesn’t mention unless asked the semi diagnosed problems that lead to frequent blood tests and sometimes transfusions. We do know about, but never discuss, the death of his wife a few years ago, killed crossing a road here. And we know that D’s husband has Alzheimer’s. A couple of years ago he was quite willing to tell people this. Don’t think he goes out much any more but D says he announced today that he is going to his room to commit suicide and she’s not to open the door for a week. She’s learned that these things are very quickly forgotten but there’s an obvious sadness mixed with the laughter. He says he hates everybody - but never the dogs. 

My father said many years ago that there’s enough tragedy on any city block to break your heart.

And then on the way home we pass beautiful orange flowers we hadn’t noticed before. iPad identifies them as flamevine, also known as orange trumpet, originally native to South America.

Thursday, February 5/2026

Notice from our municipality to say that they have investigated accounts of flags flying at half mast at one of their beach construction sites, information that seems to have come as a surprise to them. They are pleased to be able to say that there have been no unreported fatalities and the flags have merely suffered the ravages inflicted on the rest of us by the stormy weather and high winds. They have now been replaced. J had also noted earlier that the mountainside flags to the west of us had been taken down, either as a result of damage or to prevent it. 

Just enough breeze today to dry the wash, but seems the wild weather  may not be quite done. The meteorological department has announced that stormy conditions are expected in the regional seas from eight this evening until midnight tomorrow. The actual statement requires some parsing though: “In the Eastern Taurus, winds currently blowing from the north and east, and in the Western Taurus from the south and west, are expected to strengthen over time and reach force 8”.

All right, the Taurus mountains are a two thousand kilometre complex running along the South coast of Türkiye parallel to the Mediterranean and immediately opposite us. The ones we can see in good weather. So presumably the regional seas in turmoil will be the sea directly below us and the gale 8 winds may not confine themselves to the sea. It’s the wind direction that’s unclear. Sounds like two opposing winds will meet in the middle of the mountain range with force 8 gales, suitable for breaking twigs and small branches off trees and making cars, should there be any in the mountains, veer off the road.

May be interesting. Have brought the wash - now dry - inside.

Wednesday, February 4/2026

Spring has arrived? Full sun all day. Warm and only the lightest of breezes. Lazy choice of activities. Could wash clothes, first choice of most of the women on the local weather page. But J repairs the drying rack, damaged in a collision with a cement wall on the terrace on one of the high wind days, so maybe tomorrow, also to be blessed with many suns ☀️☀️☀️ according to one of the weather forecast apps. 

This leaves us sitting with a Cyprus brandy  on the end of the terrace overlooking the Mediterranean. Lovely deep blue and you can just see Türkiye on the far side. Aided by the fact that the south coast is mountainous, so there is something to spot on a clear day.

Terrace is a lovely place for reading aloud and we’re nearly finished John Simpson’s Unreliable Sources, having abandoned it temporarily for Dalrymple’s more compelling City of Djinns. Simpson is knowledgeable and sections are quite interesting but it is very poorly edited, and some of the editing should have included cutting it by at least a third. Actually it looks as though what he did was to farm out sections of the 20th century to a number of research assistants and allow their varying industriousness to determine the length of the different sections. A disappointment for anyone who enjoyed his memoirs and not a keeper but not sorry we stuck with it.

Tuesday, February 3/2026

Alexander Skeaping 1/5/1944-5/9/2025

Alexander Skeaping was probably the most alive person I’ve ever known, so when a message arrived this morning telling us there was going to be a super gathering in his honour it took a minute or two to register. A retirement maybe - but Alexander would never truly retire. Then it hit. There were happy emojis - but Celebration of Life.

Alexander listed himself on X (Twitter) - where I didn’t follow him - as “freelance piano-tuner, harpsichordist, pianist, helicopter-pilot, glider-pilot, who loves travel, good food, intelligent people (esp. women!) & LIFE in general!). Could say that summed him up, but it falls far short. 

We used to meet, spring and autumn, until COVID interrupted the pattern, for lunch in or near London.

Two occasions come to mind. One fourteen years ago when Flora was still alive and we met at the Bel Canto at Lancaster Gate. Alexander tuned the piano at the restaurant and the pianist was a pleasure to listen to but the real drawing card was the wait staff, all of whom were opera students. Between serving tables they acted and sang arias from popular operas like Carmen. Did feel when the bill came that we’d underwritten their careers, but definitely a meal to remember.

Then there was a meal at Roses in Kilburn. Our pick that time. Told A that it was a working man’s café (pronounced caff) but had on a Thursday the best lamb kleftiko we’d had anywhere, including the Mediterranean. In those days they only made it on a Thursday - fifteen portions so nothing frozen and no leftovers. I phoned at nine to ask them to save us three for 1:15 and they did us proud. 

Got into a political discussion with a man from the next table who introduced himself as a Marxist and wanted to say that none of the UK parties had managed to prevent homelessness. We assured him that we all agreed that the new minimum wage was inadequate to survive on and then followed an exchange which could only have taken place in Britain. The man told A, probably accurately, that if he had A’s posh accent people would take his views more seriously. Then asked A what his occupation was. A answered, not untruthfully, that he was a piano tuner, though that was modestly short of the whole truth, as he tuned and supplied instruments for concerts and symphonies. And the man responded as only an Englishman could - “You don’t sound like it”. They did part as friends though, with good wishes and Facebook information.

And the helicopter pilot? Never quite got together on that one but he did suggest quite seriously that we could fly to France for coffee.

Alexander Skeaping, RIP.

Monday, February 2/2026

Courtesy Cyprus Mail

Happier photo of the Cyprus mouflon than the one on Saturday. The Cyprus Mail reports that the mouflon is on the increase in Cyprus but are in some areas being pushed out of their habitat and too close to agricultural land where they sometimes pick up diseases and can a,so be at risk from stray dogs. Their preferred habitat is forest but not too dense woods, but it’s in increasingly short supply.

February 1/2026

 

Charles Schulz, November 4, 1964

Nearing the end of William Dalrymple’s City of Djinns, one of our read aloud books. It was far too good not to share but not the easiest book to read out loud because of the preponderance of double, triple, and quadruple Muslim and Indian names - like Ghiyas-ud-Din Tughluk. A silent reader would be more than tempted to do as Linus, of Peanuts fame, claimed to do while reading The Brothers Karamazov - bleep over them. 

But there’s some fascinating reading. The son of Ghiyas-ud-Din Tughluk, facing rebellions in 1335, pursued the rebel governors “beheading one, flaying another alive, ordering a third to be cut to pieces by his war elephants”. Yes, times have changed, but hard not to imagine how excited the execrable Trump would be to be able to cry havoc and let loose the war elephants on his enemies.

Do have a washing machine although usually wash small things in a basin and, like most people here, hang them outside to dry, which they do pretty quickly. Pair of sweat pants are on the dividing line. They do fit in the larger plastic basin but it’s hard to wring them well enough by hand to guarantee that they will dry outside before one of the recent sporadic showers interferes. Hence the spin cycle on the washer called into play. Have never used it on its own, but have been wanting to because of its name. Like all the cycles on the washer it is labelled in Turkish. Sıkma - translates as squeeze. Which is much more to the point than spin would have been. And, admirably, does as advertised.