Monday, October 26/2026

 Knock on the door, almost too soft to be heard, and it’s Aleksander from next door.  He’s leaving a spare key with us in case of emergency and has brought us a couple of gifts as well - chocolate covered marzipan and a keychain attached to anß amber stone from his home territory in Kaliningrad. 

So we get out some smoked pork and cheese and a bottle of single malt and spend the early evening catching up and trading stories.

Sunday, October 25/2026

Hibiscus has its roots in the neighbour’s garden but happily flowers on our side. And quite possibly theirs as well. Hedge too thick to see through, which is all to the good.

Buddleia, unfortunately, all ours. A most unloveable bush. 

Leggy, as buddleia tend to be. It does, in all fairness, produce lilac style clusters of flowers, but without the lovely scent. Not only that, but by the time the last pale petals on a cluster have appeared the first ones are already dead. As a bit of saving grace, it does attract butterflies, as its nickname, butterfly bush, suggests it will.

J is trimming it as well as he can with secateurs, but will really have to acquire a saw for the sturdy lower branches. And - cheerful note - the buddleia has not succeeded in choking out a honeysuckle occupying more or less the same territory, so with luck it may flourish, and it’s much more attractive.

Daylight savings time ends in the early hours of the morning. As usual an inexplicable week earlier in Europe than in Northern America. Not that everyone changes on either continent.  Sunlight on the marble mountain an hour earlier, but sunset will now move from six pm to five - and noticeably earlier part way up the mountain side.

Saturday, October 24/2026

Courtesy Kyrenia Animal Rescue 

 Saturday is local market day, and usually, weather permitting - which it mostly is in Cyprus - we go. This summer the market moved and expanded. It’s slightly farther away - almost exactly a mile from us. Which Google Maps has the nerve to claim is mostly on level ground when we’re on a mountain side and will be walking down to sea level. Not complaining - just indignant. Actually there might be a short cut from the previous market location, but the humans haven’t spotted it yet. Apparently the dogs have! Entirely possible the doggy route involves ditches and fences though.

Can see why Beverley, one of the movers of the new market, was excited. It’s bigger and more impressive and features an actual bookshop for KAR’s second hand books. Really quite impressive, and built by John during the two hottest months of the summer. We’ve been in Cyprus in July and August, during the Covid lockdown, and remember waiting to go to the supermarket until there were long enough shadows to walk along the building in the shade.

After the market the first priority is acquiring more Turkish lira. Mostly we use a North Cypriot debit card but the dolmuşes expect cash, and - obviously - lira, and we’re nearly out. Have brought Canadian as well as sterling, in the interest of not doing a double exchange. The second döviz, currency exchange, in Alsançak, is willing to deal with Canadian - the nice man at the first one said he couldn’t but that he loves Toronto and has been six times to visit his brother-in-law.

Last stop İleli supermarket. Cheese, Worcestershire sauce, smoked pork. No one objects to people buying or selling pork, but it’s not really part of the culture and it costs the earth. On the other hand so do beef and lamb. But chicken is lovely, likely to be free range, and not expensive. Wine somewhat cheaper than Canada or Britain. Pros and cons.

Dolmuş home.

Friday, October 23/2026

 Friday. Regular gathering at the Blue Song. Beverley and John have been here all summer, as has Creighan. Pat got back Wednesday. She had as tight a connection in Istanbul - coming from Edinburgh - as we did, but in her case the suitcase didn’t make the transfer. Better late than with a severed wheel. 

And brief appearances around the table by Daphne, Jessy, Gabby, Vivienne and Stephen.

Thursday, October 22/2026

 Jasmine on the terrace. Actually it’s the next door neighbour’s but it drapes over the wall onto the northern end of our terrace, and the scent knows no bounds.

It’s not the only one of our flowering shrubs that technically belongs to the neighbour. So do the oleander and the bougainvillea. We (read J) trim the bougainvillea when it gets sky high along the southern wall of the terrace. But its roots are in the garden next door. 

Imagine next door values the flowery screen as much as we do.

And in our building the flat next door belongs to our Russian friend, Aleksander. He's not here a lot, and in fact intends to sell. Think his wife would prefer a getaway somewhere near Sochi, on the Black Sea.

We’re on our way down to the shop to pick up a few more groceries when we see him walking up the hill waving. Hadn’t realised that he was in residence, though it was obvious someone had been doing work on his flat. He’s here until the 30th when he is to meet his wife in St Petersburg to celebrate their anniversary.

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.