Wednesday, October 21/2026

 Wake to the sound of a rooster. Lapta was, and in part still is, a village. That is in the recent past - the past three thousand years. Much more recently the city of Girne (Kyrenia in Greek) has spread west with the proliferation of cars and a frenzy of construction. So now there are condos but also still orchards. And it’s not unusual to see chickens on the road.

Had been hoping that Mehmet would deliver the big water jug today and keeping an eye out for him - or trying to. Then discover we’ve missed him, although he hasn’t missed us. The jug - which I can drag but not lift - is waiting outside the door of the flat. Which means he knocked, received no answer - presumably when we were on the terrace - and left the water despite not getting the money or the empty jug. Extremely kind. Have now sent him a message saying that we are sorry and can we pay him tomorrow. At least if Google Translate can be trusted that was the message.

Though North Cyprus is a very trusting place. If you lose your wallet you stand quite good odds of someone handing it in to the police. And tables and chairs outside cafés are almost never chained at night. Someone explained it by saying that the Koran is quite strict about forbidding theft. Well, so, of course, are the Bible and the Torah, but this hasn’t seemed to prevent theft in predominantly Christian or Jewish countries. 

J has been at work trimming our bushes. The buddleia is ridiculously overgrown and the Cape Honeysuckle, which he trimmed back in April, has almost completely prevented the oranges on the tree behind from seeing the sun, though admittedly those oranges that survived the summer haven’t dried out, so we should have a small crop.

Note re post for Monday. Seems not to have published properly. Have finished swearing - at blogspot not at J. Hope it now displays as it should

Tuesday, October 20/2026

Home for the winter and a morning pipe on the terrace. 

Well, yes. And a glass of wine. But that’s for the afternoon.

Though the sun must be over the yard arm somewhere, but not here. Not yet.

Have sent a WHATSAPP message in a mixture of English and Turkish to Mehmet, who brings the drinking water, so that should be re-established by tomorrow. The same man who brings the gas cylinders for cooking but we’re not out of gas yet.

Internet on as we walked in the door and obediently recognised even by devices that haven’t been here before. Not the world’s strongest but rarely totally fails. Power cuts do happen, which is why most people cook with gas. Well, no place is perfect, but for six months of the year we wouldn’t trade.

Monday, October 19/2026

 Transition day. And for the second time in forever we take a minicab instead of the tube to Heathrow. Swift cars, and they are pretty swift, getting us to the airport in plenty of time to check in - and then wait endlessly. Reminiscent of the well known quotation about war being interminable boredom punctuated by moments of sheer terror.

Well, sheer terror would be overstating it considerably, but we do sit doing nothing for two hours, followed by the information that our flight is now boarding at a gate listed as being a fifteen minute walk away. And they do mean a brisk walk.

Turkish Airways can be relied upon to provide decent meals. Though there can be translation difficulties. So we are offered a choice between what we later decide must have been gnocchi and what sounds like beef Solomon. Gambling, we ask for the beef Solomon rather than the unknown word. And find we have been given a beautiful thick juicy salmon fillet such as Air Canada may actually serve in first class - we wouldn’t know. Well, the Turkish for salmon is solmon. Who knows what sounds like beef in Turkish. We’ve brought our own crystal clear plastic glasses as an alternative to the paper cups the airline supplies as wine glasses, to the amusement of the stewardess. J asks if the wine is French or Turkish. It’s French, but the kindly stewardess returns with glasses (well, paper cups) of Turkish for comparison. The French is better, but this isn’t always the case.

We have a very tight connection in Istanbul, involving racing to a gate somewhere on the outskirts of Ankara. Or at least miles to the east of our landing spot. Where we wait, as the flight is delayed. Receive a text announcing that the flight’s delay is due to “force majeure”. Really? Are we being shot at? J looks out the window and notes that our plane is parked quietly beside the departure lounge. So that would be a no. Look up “force majeure” and find that it is a clause in contract law freeing parties from their obligations when the unforeseeable occurs. Not necessarily war or earthquakes. So that’s it. We will be late and don’t bother asking for compensation.

Not that we would have done in this case. Although the possibility does occur later when we discover on landing in Cyprus that one of the wheels on J’s suitcase has been severed. Not bent - severed.

But Ozzy’s taxi is waiting and an hour later we’re home.

Sunday, October 18/2026

 

Sundays in Kilburn nearly as busy as weekdays. Supermarkets open later and close earlier. But even the corner market is operating and so it seems are some of the charity shops. Cafés probably busier.

Last day in London this trip. Tomorrow back to Cyprus.

Saturday, October 17/2026

 J has made a new corvid friend. A bit more camera shy than our crow friends at home. Though they weren’t at home when we left twelve days ago, having abandoned our driveway and pine tree a couple of days before we took off. 

Friend is a magpie who may or may not have a nest above the adjoining roof. J has been leaving small offerings on the window sill - a couple of half grapes or a little peanut butter - and the magpie has been keenly spotting them and picking them up but is gone in a flash. A flash too quick to aim a camera. 

Seems the Royal Society for the Protection of Birds has magpies about right. They’re omnivores and scavengers.

Courtesy Cornell 

Friday, October 16/2026

Food never more than a few steps away on Kilburn High Road and not only in the many cafés and restaurants. Street corner markets and little ethnic food shops and take aways are everywhere. More than one place to pick up a roast chicken from the rotating spits on the way home and probably salad ingredients and flatbread from the same source.

Interestingly, the high road changes character in the mile or so as it heads north. Banks and larger stores and supermarkets in the south as well as open markets. Pubs dotted throughout. Take aways - non chain - with things like fish or lamb in pita to the north. But everywhere the cafés with two, maybe four chairs outside and people stopped at any time of day for shawarma or just a coffee.

Thursday, October 15/2026

Watling Street (Kilburn High Road and its continuation) was also of historic interest after the Roman invasion and the post invasion events are better recorded.

First was Boudicca, a Celtic tribal queen who led an enormous revolt in 61 AD against the Romans, destroying the Roman town of Colchester and burning Londinium, at that time a small commercial settlement. The Iceni and other tribal followers are said to have numbered about 120,000 and they succeeded in killing an estimated 80,000, including the defeat of a Roman legion. 

However Boudica and her rebels met defeat in a battle on Watling Street - exact location debated - by a much smaller Roman force led by Roman Governor Suetonius who achieved a position that protected the Romans and prevented the rebels from retreating. The result was catastrophic, even allowing for some exaggeration. According to Tacitus there were 80,000 tribal deaths to 400 Roman ones. Boudicca survived but died shortly after, rumours said by drinking poison. She is still revered as a British freedom fighter.

Less dramatically, but still in a military vein, much of the length of Watling Street became the border between the part of Britain covered by Danelaw to the north  and east and the Anglo-Saxon territory to the south and west following Viking invasions. Danelaw lasted from 878 to 954, when the last Viking king of York, Erik Bloodaxe, was driven out. They’re long gone, but there is still recordable dialect differences north and south of Watling Street.

And on Kilburn High Road round the corner? There is the Juniper Pub. Rebuilt not much more than 125 years ago, but licensed in 1486 - the year Henry VIII’s parents married.

Wednesday, October 14/2026

Suspect I have been influenced by reading Bronze Age history (approximately 3300 to 1200 BCE). Well, in the Middle East, where we now spend half our time, two thousand years ago is relatively recent history.

So Cyprus, identified on this map as Alisaya,does have recorded history going back into Babylonian period and beyond. Hindered, as in many countries, by the fact that it was not until about 3500 BCE that writing was invented, and so reliance becomes on archaeology, where, happily, new scientific developments have allowed the writing, and frequently the rewriting, of history.

And so to Kilburn, and specifically to Kilburn High Road, about two and a half blocks from where we stay. Kilburn High Road is a small section of a much longer road, one which begins in the east coast at the English Channel ports in Kent and extends to Shropshire in the northwest near the Welsh border. It’s extremely old, probably thousands of years old, but began life as a rough track used by pre-historic Celtic tribes who will have used it for trading and communication. 

Would be pleased to know more about the origins of the road but most information begins with the Roman invasion, saying only that they had paved Watling Street, as it was known previously, a dirt track. 

The lack of pre-Roman information on the road is more than made up for by available Roman period (a little less than 400 years) and post Roman events. To be continued.