Thursday, November 5/2015

The plan, despite the weather (warm but an umbrella day) is to visit the Saatchi Gallery and then do a bit of low level shopping. The gallery, not for the first time, proves to be closed for setting up a show - better website checking called for - so it's down to the shopping. Popping in and out of shops on Kilburn High Road with the umbrellas going up and down. Socks, chocolate, wine, etc. Plastic bags are now 5 p (10 cents CAD) each at large stores by legislation. Primark uses paper bags, as it always has. Just as well that we carry folded nylon ones, as we the bottle of wine we've added to the paper bag begins to work its way through as rain dampens the paper. Happy not to be the person responsible for wine and broken glass on the underground platform. Guy Fawkes day, and at night we can hear the fireworks but a bit wet for standing about. Glass of wine instead.

Wednesday, November 4/2015

There were choices in the public lecture available for tonight but there was a promising grandness to the15th Hellenic Observatory Annual Lecture, and its title, The Hypocrisy of European Moralism: Greece and the politics of cultural aggression, sounds interesting. And the speaker is a Harvard professor. It's a little downhill from there, though. Comfortable seats in a small theatre and we're early enough for front row. The talk itself is pretty rapid fire, largely because it is, speaker Michael Herzfeld admits, an article prepared for publication, and fitting it into the allotted hour is a virtuoso speed performance. Which makes it significantly more difficult to follow. The gist is that Greece is neither innocent of corruption and incompetence nor the ugly stereotype of western European accusations. Fair enough, and not really controversial. Bit of a performance though, with seemingly irrelevant snippets of erudition thrown in, along with untranslated phrases in Greek for what seems to be a primarily non-Greek audience. Be interesting to see if there's a transcript - some points seemed worth slower speed focus.

Tuesday November 3/2015

To West Harrow. Stop on Kilburn High Road to get a bottle of wine at Aldi's. Probably the cheapest prices in the city, but we've had this particular wine before and it's quite nice. Pleased to note after the fact that a Guardian writer agrees. Horribly long queues at the tills. There are signs saying that if your purchase is under £30 ($60 CAD) you can simply use your touchless credit card but no more specific info. Tap it and pop it in your bag? Walk along Drury Road enjoying the flowers in front gardens. Fuschias in full bloom next to luxuriant deep green holly. Roses into Victorian decay but still beautifully scented. Jean's garden still has thriving geraniums. Reminiscence and talk of books and friends. And, as ever, a lovely curry.

Monday, November 2/2015

Visit to the Turkish shop up Green Lanes Road. Really it's a whole Turkish district - restaurants, greengrocers, barbers, little travel agencies. Our shop looks more like a small warehouse half hidden behind a carpet shop. We're fortunately limited to what we can carry - and more important what we can use in the next two weeks in a room without fridge or cooking facilities. Still a treasure trove. Sundried tomatoes and olives, plump dried figs, roast pepper spread, dried apricots. We can't use the pomegranate syrup here but get a little bottle for Jean. There are boxes of dates, but also packets of dried pears and peppers. Intriguing dried mulberries. Enormous bags of tea leaves and soft red pepper flakes. A happy half hour's browsing.

Sunday, November 1/2015

Wake at quarter to six, just before the alarm to head over to Hyde Park for the annual London to Brighton Veteran Car Run. As we walk down the Bayswater Road in the half-light we're passed by at least a dozen and a half vintage cars, easily identified as they come up behind us, puttering bravely on one or two cylinders, most of them with no headlights. We help an older couple push back tjeir car, which has nosed out from a side street and died. But we're replaced by three young men walking past, so there's plenty of muscle available for the crank restart. The cars are lined up along the Serpentine, where swans and ducks are swimming. Last minute repairs and coffees.

 Curious as to the dividing line between a motorcycle and a car - some of the vehicles that seem to be straddling it. The cars without roofs or windscreens are often more engaging, but pretty exposed. Fortunately it's not raining, although it's increasingly foggy. In fact the heavy mist has mixed with the exhaust fumes into a pretty toxic smelling smog. As always, there are a couple of heartbreakers - cars that made it this far (and many are brought in from other continents for the race, especially this year, when the theme is American) and then in the end wouldn't start. We only pass two, one with engine running but drive train not engaged.

Saturday, October 31/2015

Lovely day, and we're off to Piccadilly for the Regent Street motor show. We're there for the vintage cars from tomorrow's London to Brighton Veteran Car Run. They're marvellous. All at least 110 years old and many boasting only one cylinder. Ten horsepower is unusually powerful. Loving restorations and, in many cases, owners in period dress. There are also sections of the show reserved for the ultra-new. Hydrogen and electric cars on display. We're taken with a Tesla with the smallest of batteries in the cavity under the hood and extra space for tiny rear-facing passengers in the rear of the car.

Thursday, October 29/2015

Back to Kilburn High Road and Roses. A rough and ready neighbourhood, once Irish, as the name suggests (and you can still buy Irish newspapers here), it's now a heady mix of West Indian, African, Asian, and Middle East people. And beneath that an aging layer of solid working class English. Roses itself is a café with an eclectic decor and an accommodating menu. Thursdays there is lamb kleftiko, the best we've eaten anywhere, always butter soft and succulent. The portions are always enormous,  and equally generous with vegetables. So it is, perhaps, unsurprising, that it attracts older single men, clearly regulars, sitting mostly separately at the little tables with the French red and white checked covers (prudently plastic rather than cloth). There are occasional women, in pairs, or small families, but mostly retired men. And we speculate: the men probably have a little more money, and, J says, are more willing to spend it on eating out. They come of a generation where men cooked less and are, often, inclined to a less intense social life - the solitary companionship of the pub. This leads to a new insight: a café full of single old men may be like a truckers' stop on the motorway, a sign of good, substantial, inexpensive food. No nouvelle cuisine for these boys.

Wednesday, October 28/2015

The time we made up in flight is thoroughly lost in the immigration queue at Heathrow. Fifty-five minutes of snaking through the arrival hall. The only question we're asked is how long we're staying, already answered on the entry form. Surely anyone entering with dishonourable intent would at least have memorised their lines? Maybe the questions don't matter and it's all a matter of judging body language and tone. And maybe that gives them entirely too much credit. Collect the suitcases, long abandoned beside the carousel and head for the tube.

We have an appointment at 4:40 at the Covent Garden Apple Store re ipad mini #2. Bought as replacement-in-waiting for an aging predecessor, it suddenly refused to open or show any other signs of life about two weeks ago. Other, that is, than on the overnight train, when it apparently struggled to life and was discovered in the morning feverishly hot and down to 3% battery. It twitched to life, agreed to being charged, reached about 70% charge and expired. I have memorised the clinical history, can supply dates and symptoms, have screen shots of serial number and receipt, am prepared. It's only five months old! Not needed. If it won't start, we'll give you another. Here you go - attached to the computer and downloading from the cloud. Single signature. Fini. Not quite the end. As well as the new tablet they also kindly do the software upgrades on our other mini. The ones it had no space to do without a computer's assistance. Jetlag forgotten.

Tuesday, October 27/2015

Waiting for the bus to the airport, we see geese flying north. Sign of a warm winter? At the airport we check in the suitcases. The employee doing the checking is a dwarf in a wheelchair. Understandably he isn't behind a desk, where he would  be able neither to see nor be seen. This does mean that he isn't next to a weigh scale either, so our cases are scanned unweighed. They're sure to be under the 23 kilos, but the flight to Cyprus will be less generous, so it would be nice to get a readout. J puts them on the conveyer belt and we begin to wonder if we've genuinely been checked in. Shades of a Warwick Davis script. No passport check, but then, as J poinuts out, this segment isn't international.

Montreal so much better than Toronto for the transfer - smaller and quieter. The flight leaves at nine and makes up a bit of time as it goes. We're near the back, opposite the middle row the stewardesses have snagged. Interesting view of their meal - clearly left over from first class. Steaks, much better salad than ours, fresh fruit and berries. They don't seem to be allowed wine, though, and ours wasn't bad.

Monday, October 26/2015

Technically Monday, as the train leaves after midnight. And arrives in the morning in Winnipeg to the sound of the zany conductor singing "Sur le pont d'Avignon" - last thought of, probably, in Avignon many years ago.

Dinner - Chinese takeaway - at Janet and Dave's, with Ian and Susan and Judy and Dino.

Tuesday, April 21/2015

Last day. Begin at the Starbucks office. Then a visit to the Saatchi Gallery to see the Wanderland exhibit which opened after our last visit. It's a kind of multimedia combination of traditional 19th century Paris café culture and some straightforward classic Hermès products, from gold and enamel watches to shoes and somehow it seems to escape being commercial and remain nostalgia with a touch of magic - and just sheer fun. Gentlemen's canes with witty minds of their own, cups that seem to float above the table, café scenes, music, 3D comic art and mysterious doors to the next stages. Hard to be for simple enjoyment,

Too hot for jackets as we visit Camden High Street and only starting to cool off when we're back in Bayswater about 5.

Monday, April 20/2015

Out to visit Alexander and Flora, now moved to a village just south of Cambridge. Haven't seen them for a year now. Train from Liverpool St Station. Just across the road from where we saw Tony Benn a year and a half ago in what turned out to be his last but one public appearance. So lucky. 

The train takes a little over an hour, but off peak is only £6 each way, and its quite pleasant scenery, including a recreational area with canal boats. Alexander picks us up and takes us back to their new house - happily typical of Alexander to acquire a country cottage that is also high tech, with a skylight that closes by sensor when it rains and a robot that cuts the grass. Beautiful garden and a light, airy interior. Happy to see Flora, though her health is clearly pretty fragile. Walking with a cane and blood transfusions every three weeks, which doesn't seem to be quite often enough. They say the nearest hospitable is truly excellent though.

 

A makes us very good cappuccinos and then we're off to the Queen's Head, their excellent local. Seventeenth century, in part at least, and they make their own bread and soup. Nice brown ale as well. A drops us at the station before taking F to the hospital for blood tests. There's an announcement that our train isn't stopping here (Whittlesford Parkway) but fortunately it's wrong. So many stations now have no live staff that it must be very difficult to resolve problems. So home via Central Line by supper.

  

Sunday, April 19/2015

Gallery day along Bayswater Road from Queensway down to Marble Arch. Artists come every Sunday morning and hang their works along the fence bordering Hyde Park. Mostly paintings, but a wide variety of styles, although more than a random chance percentage are designed to appeal to tourists, with double decker buses and Big Ben. We're taken with a small watercolour of the Bayswater Road exhibit itself, done on a page of a sketch pad. And acquire it. Another memory in paint.

Saturday, April 18/2015

Up Kilburn High Road and then last  fish and chips at Roses. Actually best fish fry we get anywhere, including home. Very impressive job of cooking a tapered fillet (slightly longer than the long dinner plate) perfectly. Crust thin and crisp but not hard and fish moist and flaky. Until next year.

Friday, April 17/2015

Stop in to look at the finally renovated Canadian consulate. Lots of security and not much open to the public. There is, after the x-ray detection, a photography exhibition. It consists of five very large photographs by Jeff Wall. QActually, we rather like them. But the five totally fill the renovated and reduced gallery space. Would really like to know how and by whom the artists are chosen. And curious about the rest of the building. Presumably housing the services once performed in the Grosvenor Square building, which rumour has it was sold for too little money.

So to the National Portrait Gallery, where there are a number of new portraits, including a large full length portrait of Judy Dench, which we actually have seen before and a painting Of the Duchess of Cambridge. Two interesting exhibitions. One is of the Duke of  Wellington in honour of the 200th anniversary of the Battle of Waterloo. Portraits and battle scenes and one very early photograph. Also snippets of info, including the rumour that Wellington had affairs with two of Napoleon's mistresses. There's also an exhibition of some of the photographs of Lord Snowden, Anthony Armstrong Jones, former husband of the late Princess Margaret. The most interesting photo is one of Anthony Blunt, former curator of the Queen's picture gallery and Soviet spy, holding up a slide of a painting. Blunt is focused on the slide, but a reflection of the slide, a photograph of a painting, appears on his face, covering his right eye. Very striking and clever.

Then a stop at a highly unusual pub. Ye Olde Mitre, established 1546. Significant renovation from 1782. Entered through a little door in a wall in Hatton Gardens, which opens onto a tiny alley, leading to the old pub, surrounded on all sides by tall, modern city buildings. Claims to have a bit of cherry tree that Elizabeth I danced round. Not impossible. The pub is next to St Ethelreda's, England's second oldest and London's only medieval RC Church. Historically, and still, attached to Ely Diocese in Cambridgeshire. The property was once the London establishment of the Bishop of Ely who had the pub built for the refreshment of his staff. Very civilised.

Thursday, April 16/2015

Pick up train tickets at Liverpool Street Station. There is so much construction going on around the station that it's hard to identify the old landmarks, made somewhat worse by the fact that I'm no longer carrying "real" maps and the ipad doesn't do well with sunlight. Actually much worse than the Playbook. Between them Apple and Blackberry could have made a hell of a good tablet, had it been in either of their interests to co-operate.

Second election debate on tv tonight, this time with only opposition leaders. Milliband unhappy at being attacked from the left and avoiding any suspicion that his strings would be pulled by Sturgeon. Farage isolated on the right and voicing almost certainly unworthy suspicions about the demographics of the independently balanced audience. Nicola Sturgeon bluntly telling Milliband, who can't afford to be seen listening, that he needs her co-operation to shut out Cameron. And then there are those who are conspicuous by their absence - Cameron, who may have made a mistake in opting out, and Clegg, who must be pretty unhappy about being classed as government and not opposition for the purpose.

Wednesday, April 15/2015

Another summery day, so this time to Blackheath. Have wanted to go for familial historic reasons. The Palatine ancestors arrived in London in 1909 and spent part of the winter of 1709-1710 in a huge refugee camp, probably in or near Blackheath. Lovely fields now, adjacent to Greenwich Park but farther inland. But with between 13 and 32 thousand Palatine Germans spending the winter in tents, depending on the dates, it must have been hell. One can only imagine the provisions for water and sanitation - or lack of same. The ancestor involved was fleeing after a vicious winter on the Rhine, which had killed the grape vines. There had also been religious persecution and and French invasions to contend with. The Londoners were sympathetic to the refugees at first, but as thousands more arrived they, like many voters of today, felt that there were too many immigrants and that they were competing for food and jobs as well as living in conditions that bred disease. They were sped on their way, my lot ending up in New York (pre revolution of course) on the Hudson River, their descendants eventually moving up the river and over the border and becoming Canadian Loyalists.

We take a look at the heath, which is pretty well empty field now and try to imagine it as a refugee camp, with thousands of tents. Canvas? And, of course, no facilities to speak of. Walk on to a church whose spire we've spotted. Very friendly people but it must be 19th century. Not a landmark in the time of the Palatine Germans. We welcome the chance to use the loo, though. As no doubt they would have done. Bus back to Lewisham dockland light railway station to take a train to Bank and then tube home.

Tuesday, April 14/2015

Sunny and much too warm to be inside. So we follow the canal from Little Venice, near Paddington Station, up to Camden Town. There are dozens of brightly painted canal boats, some of them permanent homes. Flower boxes and bicycles abound and pets are in residence. The canal disappears underground at times, or so it seems from the towpath. The boats, of course are passing through tunnels. The canal goes along the north side of Regent's Park and past the London Zoo, with some animals visible across the canal on the right. On our side there is an enormous aviary filled with exotic birds, with one small domestic bird attempting to get through the wire mesh and join them, as its mate seems already to have succeeded in doing. Plenty of others enjoying the lovely weather, walking or cycling or sitting on benches. One girl is joined by friends who have brought treats and sing happy birthday. In the shade of a short tunnel a man we'd guess is homeless sits with his dog and eats his lunch. A beautiful spot now, but less kind in winter. We emerge at Camden Lock, up past pubs and cafés and into the bustle of Camden Market. It's been about three and a half leisurely miles, and we take a bus back.

Monday, April 13/2015

Make an effort to find a Conservative campaign HQ, largely because son #1 would like to see a Tory poster and political signs of all kinds are in remarkably short supply. A Labour campaign worker on Kilburn High Road put it down to strict spending limits but there must be a cultural/traditional factor as well. Not a single sign on a lawn or a lamp post. Well, actually lawns are in rather short supply in central London, but all I've actually seen were two small signs in the window of a flat, one with the single word Labour and the other with the name of the local candidate. Nothing else.

Having duly googled, we pick a constituency with an office near a tube station, in this case Sloane Square. We find the address all right, but no sign, literally, of political occupancy. No answer to the bell, either. J inquires of a little old man walking past (well, all right, he's probably no older than we are and he's no shorter than I am). He looks at the anonymous flat and says that if it is the Conservatives they're very discreet. Right. Second try is up north of Angel tube station. This time the googling has worked a little better. The office is there and it's clearly Conservative - can spot Boris Johnson's mug from across the street. Yes, that's the problem- it's a leftover office from a previous mayoral election. And of course it's closed.

So back to Angel and our favourite vegetarian restaurant, Indian Veg. A couple of little airline style plastic bottles of wine handily in pocket and an excellent buffet as always.

Sunday, April 12/2015

Another warm and sunny day, with a pleasant breeze, so over to Greenwich to browse the antique markets. We're not alone - there are crowds that make it almost impossible to move in the covered and outdoor markets. A little less congested farther up the hill at the fascinating but aptly named Junk Shop. Everything from sheet music and old medicine bottles to £5 pieces of wood claiming, probably accurately, to be bits of the original Cutty Sark taken during reconstruction after the fire. Prices not bad, but the real interest is in the sheer semi-sorted quantity and in the archaeological layering

Then our semi-annual visit to Goddard's pie and eel shop. Established 125 years ago and still in the hands of the same family. Black currant and apple crumble - J's with ice cream and mine with custard.

Sign on the wall at Goddard's pie and eel shop, established 1890

Saturday, April 11/2015

Visits with Jenny and Doug and various family members. Train from Wimbledon to Rayne's Park where Jenny picks us up and takes us to visit her Aunt Vera. Short visit but nice, with Vera reminiscing about her childhood with extended family in Haifa. Her father went to Palestine with Allenby and when he left the forces married a Christian Palestinian woman. Vera's sons and their families still live in the Middle East, though one son is about to retire to Scotland.

Next visit is to Jenny's daughter Emma, with us first stopping to pick up Jenny's mum on the way. Emma makes tea and the girls are busy, with Jasmine, now six demonstrating her really quite impressive reading skills and Leila, not quite four, showing her ability with computer games. Giles is busy too, a little less happily, landscaping the back garden, which involves quite a lot of excavation, but he joins us for tea.

Then back to Doug and Jenny's, where we're duly impressed that they invited us at all, as they're in the midst of a highly ambitious redecoration project, involving a great deal of paper stripping and painting of their very large house. We stay for drinks and a meal. Jenny's had a chicken in the oven and it's a good visit and catch up. Have now known them ten years, we calculate. The Nile cruise  on which we met was in 2005. Laura also over briefly with stepdaughter Phoenix.

Friday, April 10/2015

Much too nice a day to go down Oxford Street, but there are things to check out so we do anyway. Very busy. No overwhelming bargains given the present state of the Canadian dollar.

Thursday, April 9/2015

Camden Town. It's becoming, sadly, more and more generic. The distinctive aspects are disappearing. Camden Market is still thriving but Inverness Street Market is no more, or at least the fruit and vegetable aspect of it, and the man who weighed your tomatoes and called you luv. You can still buy t-shirts and souvenirs there if you want to. The supermarkets are there, though we can remember the Waitrose in its previous incarnations as Morrison's and Co-op. They've been joined by Lidl and a 99p store, the latter doing noticeably less business as the queues at Lidl lengthen. Gone too are the little stands on corners of Camden High Street selling oranges and apples and strawberries and grapes - often at better prices and of better quality than the nearby supermarkets. Lots of charity shops and still a few bakeries and a couple of pubs. But increasingly it could be a high street in any part of London with similar demographics.

Wednesday, April 8/2015

To West Harrow by tube. A lovely Sri Lankan curry like the "old days" as Jean has recently been visited by sisters in law, one of whom brought additional curry. And apple crumble with custard. Very nice. We're joined by Shanthi, busy as ever - tomorrow her day as magistrate. With the coming election lots to talk about.

Tuesday, April 7/2015

Sunny and warm, although those in tank tops do seem to be on the optimistic side, unless they're jogging. Bus along Bayswater Road and over Westminster Bridge to the Southbank. Almost impossibly crowded near the London Eye, but thins out a bit after we pass it. Families with children, people on holiday, tourists, buskers, people eating ice cream and drinking at riverside pubs and cafés. Kiddies swarming over the climbing structure.  It's shirtsleeve weather in the sun. We pick up the brochure at the National Theatre and then cross back over the Millennium Foot Bridge and take the tube back from Blackfriars.

Hit Marks and Spencer just after the afternoon price mark down and decide to try the salads for supper:   

Layered prawn and pasta salad

Borlotti. Flageolet and black bean salad with mint vinaigrette

Potato salad with sugar snap peas, edamame soybeans and wasabi mayonnaise

Edamame soybean salad with sesame seeds and lime and chilli 

All of them prove to be delicious, with a fair bit of heat in the last two. Speculate on the odds of a Canadian supermarket selling same in the coolers without marketing them as gourmet specialties.

Monday, April 6/2015

Bus down to Piccadilly, and wander through Soho and China Town. Still holiday busy, and in fact a public holiday, although almost everything open. Enormous crowds, especially at Leicester Square, where there is a long queue of families winding into a building labelled Cinderella. Leicester Square sadly pretty well built over now, and sitting on the tiny remaining bit of grass pretty sharply discouraged. Covent Garden in usual festive mode with the people dressed as silver and gold statues posing for photographs, though heaven knows how they make any money as the costume set up is pretty elaborate and many of the photographers don't seem to feel compelled to reward the subject with a donation.  There's an interesting collection of the antique, the merely old and kitschy and the frankly second hand and not all that old in the exhibition hall, which gives us a happy half hour of browsing. Then pick up a bus on the Strand and home.

Sunday, April 5/2015

First time up Kilburn High Road this spring. Election making itself felt here as well. We pass the local Labour headquarters and a young man comes out to chat for a few minutes. Graffiti on a red phone box sums up political confusion.

 Our Easter dinner at Roses, which, as usual, is almost entirely local customers. Maximum seating 58. We take a window table and both order lamb kleftiko with roast potatoes and mushrooms and swedes. Succulent lamb's legs and very full plates.

Saturday, April 4/2015

It's school holidays, so we decide on the Saatchi Gallery, as usually not overfull of children. There's an upscale Saturday food market on outside the Saatchi, with discouragingly pristine samples of unsweetened natural organic chocolate. Can't help feeling Easter will justify a little more decadence. 

Enjoy the gallery, especially the wall of giant insects and Jorge Mayet's suspended sculpture of tree and extensive roots.

Buy a bunch of daffodils from the flower seller on the corner. My longtime favourite flower and irresistible. At 50p a bunch we would have bought many more if it weren't for a shortage of space and containers.

Friday, April 3/2015

Camden High Street. Medium busy, with most but not all shops and the supermarkets open at the beginning of a four day weekend, so a few basics and some wine. Hot cross buns everywhere, appropriately.

Home via Trafalgar Square where there is a live Good Friday drama taking place, complete with disciples and soldiers and a large screen for those without a good view.

Thursday, April 2/2015

Room 23 for the first three nights. We arrived close to one but Nick had waited up and doesn't seem at all put out. The room has its charms, especially the ceiling light fixture, and it's actually a little bigger than our usual. It's two longish flights up (old high ceilinged storeys) but the suitcases are now up. But we'll probably opt for our ground floor usual with its well known pros and cons.

The much anticipated election debate with seven candidates, including the obvious Cameron and Miliband, Nick Clegg and Nigel Farage, as well as SNP's Nicola Sturgeon and the women leading the Green and Welsh Nationalist parties. We're expecting seven candidates to make for a pretty confused presentation but it's better than predicted. Sturgeon is particularly impressive and the Plaid Cymru leader wins rare applause by telling Farage he should be ashamed of expressing such unpleasant views of immigrants. All of the men look slightly as if they're aware of having more to lose than gain, except for Clegg, who probably genuinely has spent all his political capital. Two hours goes quite quickly though. 

Wednesday, April 1/2015

D day. Sound of distant parade drums reminds us it's a holiday. Finish up. Boxes to the storage area on the mezzanine, already full of the cases and crates left by the long stay Norwegians. Cab to the airport, unexpectedly supplied by Mr Andreas. Usually we take the bus.

Plane is nearly an hour late leaving and doesn't make it up en route. Have calculated that it will take an hour to get from landing to tube, more with any bad luck at all. So when we land at 23:10 knowing that the last underground train to central London will leave at 23:42, the assumption is that it is hopeless. Time to deplane and time to reach the immigration queue. And we're not EU citizens, so no favours in the general queue. But there is no queue, no one ahead of us at all. So we're through immediately and down to the baggage claims, where there is almost no wait at the carousel. So, with ten minutes left we head for the tube station. Lifts don't seem to be functioning so it's escalators. As we reach the bottom an underground employee says last train to central London and we're holding it. And indeed as we get on the man blows the whistle and we're off. Forty-five minutes to South Kensington station. Long flight of stairs to the Circle platform and a young man very kindly takes my suitcase the last few steps, enabling us to catch the train just arriving - the last train to Bayswater. As we exit Bayswater Station the doors are closed behind us. It's twenty to one but we've done it with nearly impossible luck in timing. Ten minutes later we're at the Baron and Nick lets us in. We're home.

Tuesday, March 31/2015

Excess plastic bags to the animal shelter charity shop, as well as donating some clothing and books. Nice to know that the plastic bags go to a good cause. There are several charity shops in Larnaca, though not keeping pace with increasing numbers of pawn shops. Then on to get haircuts. Incredibly busy, as tomorrow is a national holiday and haircutting establishments in Cyprus are always closed on Thursdays. Also last visit with Natalie at her jewellery shop and last coffee at Harry's by St Lazarus.

Then home to serious packing. Some things stay and everything else has to fit in the suitcases. Seems like it shouldn't take as long as it does, but when we leave the flat after three and a half months, it's empty except for the furniture and dishes that belong to it. 

Monday, March 30/2015

Last dinner out, with Ailsa and Harry and Jane and Bill, at a café a couple of blocks away. Walk through the dusk with the warm breeze full of the heady scent of orange blossoms. Very good and far too filling. 

Sunday, March 29/2015

Sunday lunch at Jane and Bill's. Joined by their friends David and Susan, former yachters retired in Larnaca. We eat outside - as they eat all their meals when the weather is decent. Bill's cooked a duck with orange sauce and there are two desserts, both very nice. Happy relaxed meal in the sun, as our winter is coming to an end.

Saturday, March 28/2015

Happy that we went on our northern trip yesterday, as today is mostly rainy - as predicted. 

Friday, March 27/2015

With Jane and Bill on a trip up the Karpas peninsula. We drive north past mimosa bushes and fields with poppies and other wildflowers and past vineyards. Over the border to the north, passports in hand. Through Famagusta, with a quick glimpse of Othello's tower (so called because of a reference to Famagusta in Shakespeare's play) and we head northeast. Stop for coffee at the Blue Wave seaside restaurant. The area north of Famagusta is a little reminiscent of the Cornwall coast, with rough, steep cliffs alternating with long, deserted sandy beaches. The North is mostly Turkish but there are some mixed villages. We cut across to the east coast. House prices are often advertised in pounds sterling, but the winter population is pretty well local. Some intriguing cafés, including one identified by a sign saying it is located "10 metres backward". 

We stop at a coastal restaurant for lunch. Nearly miss the meal, though not the restaurant, as there's a closed sign on the door when we arrive. But a man comes up from his seaside docks, smelling slightly of diesel, and turns the sign around. We're welcome . Did we want coffee? We'd hoped for lunch. Well, it's only him and his wife - he can do us cheese omelettes with salad and chips. We say that would be very nice, and wander through the large restaurant, fascinated by the eclectic decor, which ranges from kitsch to family photos to reproductions of famous paintings and sculptures to enormous millstones. And when I go to pay, he refuses a tip. Posturing? Not a bit of it - he pats my arm, folds the bill and tucks it back in my change purse, saying gently no, this is my home. 

There's a monastery further up the road, and wild donkeys. How far? About ten minutes our restaurant host says. Turns out to be at least twice that, but the donkeys are there all right, and charmingly friendly - hardly seem wild at all. Though clearly the furry hope was that we'd thought to bring treats, and we're here without as much as a carrot.

Then back along the north coast and through the mountain pass. Through orchards and barley fields and home.

Thursday, March 26/2015

Jane and Bill and Ailsa and Harry to dinner, pushing the limits of our two burner plus microwave kitchen to its limits. Nice to be able to visit with the dynamics of the living room for a change, though. Conversation circle rather than a long restaurant table and quieter. Sad to see the time here coming to an end. Though I feel that way about each place we leave, like the child being taken off to bed while the party is still on.

"No matter what, nobody can take away the dances you've already had" - Gabriel Garcia Marquez

Wednesday, March 25/2015

J coming back from his morning walk on the beach as preparations are being made for the day's festivities. It's a national holiday - shops closed and all - in honour of Greek Independence Day. Yes, Greek and not Cypriot. Greek flags much in evidence. Unfortunately one suspects that part of the appeal is in getting to celebrate an anti-Turkish day, the freedom being celebrated consisting of freedom from the Ottoman Empire.

Tuesday, March 24/2015

All other news takes a back seat to the crash in the mountains of southern France of a Germanwings plane. Understandably, although hours of coverage unaccompanied by new info, there being none available yet, is tedious. Can't help suspecting that the reason is that all networks must send their own reporters and crews to the disaster site to avoid being scooped, and that once there they feel that the presence must be justified by frequent reports as all other news and analysis is put on hold.

Monday, March 23/2015

Bill over with his bag of tools so he and J can replace our suitcase wheels which are beginning to disintegrate. Hacksaw required, but the good news is that the best place for replacement wheels is just around the corner. An excellent hardware store complete with everything one might want, including wheels that fit perfectly and should last forever and new axles.

Sunday, March 22/2015

Ailsa and I out to Cessac at the British base up the road at Dhekelia. Stunning day and right by the sea, so coffee on the veranda and then a stroll along to look at the little fishing harbour. Cessac is not actually part of the base, which is just as well, as security at the base is now so high that it's almost impossible to go in.

Then Maggi over for a drink and nibbles. Just back from visiting her American relatives so full of accounts of her visit to California. And even a little packet of sweets as a gift.

Saturday, March 21/2015

Off to the Larnaca Saturday market with Bill and Jane. We haven't been for ages, nor have they. Largely because the produce is at least as good at Prinos greengrocer round the corner and much shorter carrying distance in our case. But the market is a feast for the eyes. It's always bustling and the colours are gem tones. Coffee at Jimmy's round the corner and then back to our flat for lunch.

Friday, March 20/2015

The day of the solar eclipse. Hardly worth messing with pinhole cameras this far south in order to see - possibly - a 15% bite out of the sun. So we go for coffee and forget about it until the sky darkens, but only with rain and, briefly, hail, interrupting our walk home. Stop for bread at our favourite bakery on the way and discover, courtesy of the owner, that our favourite dense rye is actually a yeastless sourdough, as is the white village loaf which he insists on giving us as a present. Want to ask about the rye but can't remember the name in Greek. Do remember the French, but that's not much help.

Thursday, March 19/2015

Once more the Cypriot legislature.extends its refusal to foreclose on mortgages that are not being paid - though this means the country won't get its bailout money.

Wednesday, March 19/2015

Museum attack by terrorists at a Tunisian museum and 25 people, almost all tourists, killed. We've actually been looking to go back to Tunisia, but flights from the UK pretty thin on the ground. British Airways stopped flying to Tunis in the autumn of 2013 and closed its office, permanently it says, citing lack of profitability. And of course lack of access adds to the lack of tourists, for which there are other causes as well, naturally. We were in Tunisia the month before the jasmine revolution began in 2010. A poor and frustrated country. There is a high rate of university graduation but over half of university graduates are unemployed, and poverty and unemployment have not improved with democracy. And this act of terrorism will do nothing to improve tourism or the economy.

Tuesday, March 17/2015

St Patrick's Day as well as the Israeli election. Just across the water from Cyprus. Geographically Cyprus is part of the Middle East although it is an EU state. The culture is mixes - food definitely Middle East plus pork. Be interesting to follow the DNA.

Monday, March 16/2015

Early start with Jane and Bill as we go to the village of Kakopetria in the Troodos Mountains. Larnaca to Nicosia and then turn left inti the mountains, the farthest reaches of which are snowcapped and nearly 2000 metres above sea level. We don't go that high, but we do start encountering a different Cyprus, with clear air and more forests than fields. 

Kakopetria, when we reach it, is charming and many of the houses in the old village have been lovingly restored. The oldest are supposed to date back as far as the 14th century. The village name is a compound meaning bad rock, a reference to one or more of the huge boulders that have rolled down the mountain side. Much of the charm is in the way the traditional stone and wood houses nestle in narrow lanes on slopes that are forested and cut by rushing streams crashing over the rocks. There are also house sized museums with olive and wine presses as well as a small church intriguingly named metamorphosis sotiros, meaning transfiguration salvation.

There was a traditional mill, dating back to the 17th century but the island stopped producing enough wheat and the mill fell into disuse. But there has been quite a bit of restoration and is now a wooden hotel and restaurant next to the mill. We explore the village and take photos of the lane in Jane's painting. Artistic licence has let her happily leave out the overhead wiring, as we can't do. Then a lovely lunch of grilled melt in the mouth trout from the mountain stream and south over the mountains and through little villages until we reach Limassol and head back to Larnaca. Super day.

Sunday, March 15/2015

No way of watching the season's opening F1 race, the Australian Grand Prix, but we do get to listen, thanks to the British base nearby which rebroadcasts quite a bit of BBC Radio 4 and Radio 5. More or less obvious from the start that Hamilton would win, but an exciting race farther back in the pack.

Lazy day after that - sun and brunch and books.

Saturday, March 14/2015

Sunny spring. Snapdragons in the flower beds. Plenty of pruning going on. Surrounding fields the greenest we've seen them, thanks to the excessive February rains.

Unemployment in Cyprus is running at 16%. Begging is rare but not completely unknown. There is, in theory at least a guaranteed minimum income.

Friday, March 13/2015

Beach with mountains of seaweed before removal

The beach has now been pretty well cleaned up, and there were mountains of seaweed to clean up. We don't linger, though, but go round to Harry's in front of St Lazarus Church for our coffee, and are rewarded with small slices of chocolate cake to accompany the Greek coffee, not that either of us are much in need of feeding up. Then stop at the cancer charity shop, and are unable to resist two books, an Ian Rankin and Brick Lane, a book set in London's Asian east end, boasting very impressive reviews. And three blues CDs. It's in a good cause.

Thursday, March 12/2015

J returns after his beach walk and says it's sunny and warm. And so it is - until we head out to Lidl, at which point the sky turns black and it occurs to us, belatedly, that we do have umbrellas, but back at the flat. Luck is with us though. Huge drops of rain begin just as we reach the store and by the time we're finished shopping the thunder and rain are all finished.

Forming a quiet friendship, despite language difficulties, with Mr Walid, a refugee living in the building. Actually he's a double refugee, first from Palestine, most probably expelled during Israeli expansions, and then from Iraq, source of so many refugees. He lives in a small room at the back of the ground floor. Kiki tells us there is no heater, and in a concrete structure this means not only no heat on chilly winter nights but also no cooling in the terribly hot and humid summers. Our age, perhaps - it's hard to tell - he lives a quiet, humble life, centred around his attendance at the mosque. It's just past the end of the beach, about two kilometres away, and he goes three times a day, the first time before dawn. This means that he is there for four of the five prayer times, as he returns after the first two but stays after third prayers to wait for the fourth. At first he made the trip on an old bicycle, but he's been having some medical problems and has been told not to ride, leaving quite a bit of walking. In theory medical treatment is free in Cyprus, but in practice those who don't go to private doctors can wait an unconscionably long time for surgery or specialist treatment. He also attends Greek classes, presumably designed for refugees. A gentle and cheerful soul. If we express hopes for the next day, such as saying the weather should be good, his answer is always a smiling inshallah - God willing. So I look up the Arabic for peace be with you - salaam alaikum (very similar to the Hebrew) 

We're forming a quiet friendship, despite language difficulties, with Mr Walid, a refugee living in the building. Actually he's a double refugee, first from Palestine, most probably expelled during Israeli expansion, and then from Iraq, source of so many refugees. He lives in a small room at the back of the ground floor. Kiki tells us there is no heater, and in a room of concrete walls this means not only no heat on chilly winter nights but also no cooling in the terribly hot and humid summers. Our age, perhaps - it's hard to tell - he lives a quiet, humble life, centred around his attendance at the mosque. It's just past the end of the beach, about two kilometres away, and he goes three times a day, the first time before dawn. This means that he is there for four of the five prayer times, as he returns after the first two but stays after third prayers to wait for the fourth. At first he made the trip on an old bicycle, but he's been having some medical problems and has been told not to ride, leaving quite a bit of walking. In theory medical treatment is free in Cyprus, but in practice those who don't go to private doctors can wait an unconscionably long time for surgery or specialist treatment. He also attends Greek classes, presumably designed for refugees. A gentle and cheerful soul. If we express hopes for the next day, such as saying the weather should be good, his answer is always a smiling inshallah - God willing. So I look up the Arabic for peace be with you - salaam alaikum (very similar to the Hebrew) - to greet him and am rewarded with a wreath of smiles and the response wa alaikum salaam, meaning and also unto you.

Wednesday, March 11/2015

Rain day, so we stay in and read. Hear late in the day that England has beateb Canada by an unembarrassing 1-0 to win the Cyprus Cup here in Larnaca. Could in theory have gone, though rain wouldn't have been a pleasure.

Tuesday, March 10/2015

The Cyprus government has plans to require medical certificates of fitness to drive annually from everyone over 75. Complaints are varied, and many, unsurprisingly, refer to the standard of driving exhibited by the young. And a certain amount of cynicism is appropriate. When Bill went to get a certificate the doctor asked him what his blood pressure was and wrote down what Bill (no doubt accurately) told him on the form.

Monday, March 9/2015

Poised as it is between Africa and Europe, Cyprus is a half way spot for migrating birds, most notably the flamingos that stop and feed in the shallow salt lakes, particularly the one near the Larnaca airport. The latest news about Cyprus's bird population is much less pleasant, though. Stories broke first in the British press and are now being taken up by the local media, describing the killing of up to two million songbirds, last fall, many of them in the British sovereign base area - though no one suspects the British. Cypriots are not naturally attuned to environmental protection, and the birds are a delicacy still served secretly at many Cypriot restaurants. Illegal, of course, as are the methods of trapping them - namely sticks covered with lime and fine nets.

Sunday, March 8/2015

Jane calls at nine, just as I'm getting the eggs out to warm in the sun for brunch, and suggests Sunday lunch at Cambanella's on the Dhekelia Road. Beautiful sunny day and the carvery excellent as usual. Three course meal, with Very nice lamb - or pork, or beef, or turkey, or all of them for that matter - and roast potatoes, Yorkshire pudding, and veg. Nice bottle of Merlot. Choice of desserts. And good company. Back afterward to Jane and Bill's for coffee. Admire their flowers and herbs and also the park next to them. The municipality has provided park land as legally required but B and J have planted trees and flowers and kept it tidy so that it really is a park. And the lemon tree Bill planted in front of the house is heavily laden.

Saturday, March 7/2015

Collect J's new glasses. He's not completely happy with the left varifocal lens but thinks he'll adjust to it. Gorgeous day, so coffee in the sun at Harry's by St Lazarus Church. Actually, more than coffee. Also the local ice cream. J opts for cheesecake flavour and I have mastic. When we first saw mastic gum listed as a flavour it sounded like an unpleasant dental diagnosis, and I was reluctant to risk disappointment on one of my two or three ice cream cones per year. But curiosity wins, and in fact it is a pleasure, resinous but sweet and almost minty. It's derived from the gum of Mediterranean pistachio trees and has been used for more than two thousand years as chewing gum and also is said to have medical properties, particularly anti- bacterial. Disputed claims re the helicobacter bacteria associated with ulcers.

Friday, March 6/2015

Complaints that Cyprus has the highest food and utility prices in the EU. Almost certainly not true in most cases, and certainly not true overall when compared with Canada. Having said which, comparisons are difficult. Many grocery items are difficult to buy in quantity. In Canada I would buy flour in 20 kilo bags, which seem rare to unobtainable in Europe - not that I'd want them in Cyprus. Vegetables and local fruit are cheaper here than in Canada or London, of course. Cheese, pork and chicken are cheaper here, though not eggs or milk. Bread is cheaper in both London and Cyprus. Must be Canada's lack of wheat fields and pasture land. Variety of cheese and fresh fish notably better in both Cyprus and UK. Anything sweet much cheaper in the UK, though here Canada comes second. Always a surprise to go to a supermarket and find that a single iced doughnut is €1.40 (£1, $1.91 CAD) while a litre carton of Spanish wine - admittedly vin très ordinaire - is on sale for €1.25 (£0.90, $1.71 CAD). And quite drinkable wines for about twice that.

Thursday, March 5/2015

It's official. Rainfall in February in Cyprus was the highest in 20 years! Figures, in a winter where someone else came to Cyprus on our recommendation. Definitely spring now, though.

Wednesday, March 4/2015

Huge piles of seaweed on the beach, ugly and stinky. Looking like miles and mountains of tangled brown audio tape. The blame is being placed on the weather, although that seems a little vague. Apparently it amounts to ten times the usual amount and will come to a thousand truckloads, to be taken off and mulched for fertilizer.

J stops to use the public facilities on the beach and reports that one cubicle is occupied by a man, feet clearly visible beneath the door, singing loudly in a good baritone, audible before he reached the building.

Tuesday, March 3/2015

J, who walks lengths of the beach most mornings, says there are many fewer beach walkers than in previous years. The government is mostly pretty positive about numbers of tourists, but we're curious about how they know - and conclude that they don't. There is nothing to tell immigration whether someone arriving on a plane from Heathrow with a UK passport is a tourist, an ex-pat, a visiting relative, or a UK businessman. They certainly don't take long enough to ask, and in fact if our experience is anything to go by they could hire only the deaf and dumb as immigration officers and nobody would ever notice.

Hotels do record passports, so maybe that's how it's done. Although a tourist who stayed in several hotels while touring could only be tracked by name or passport number, and it seems unlikely that the Cyprus government could do this accurately even in response to a request by Interpol. And maybe that's what it boils down to. We're just cynical about the Cypriot bureaucracy's competence. After all, all countries do have tourist stats, presumably some of them fairly reliable.

Monday, March 2/2015

Unfortunately back to the optical shop as the left lens in J's new glasses is still problematic. Awkward, as the cheerful "come back if there is any problem" is like "drop in for a drink if you're passing" - not necessarily said with any expectation of having to make good. Also awkward because it's quite obvious that the optician, while not intending to renege on his promise to replace the lens if necessary, thinks that the actual problem is defects in J's eye. While admittedly J's eyes are imperfect, we're convinced that the difficulty in focusing is down to the lens as a) the glasses left in Rome were fine, b) there is no problem with his reading glasses, c) he can see quite well with his left eye through the right lens, and d) he can see better with his left eye without any lens than with the new one. So, fingers crossed once again.

Multi complaints in the newspaper about the high cost of internet in Cyprus compared with other European countries. It looks to us like the Cypriots pay less than Canadians, but a comment by one reader shows that both lag well behind some other countries: "I pay in France 39 Euro [£28, $54.47 CAD] per mont [sic]  for internet, 200 TV chanels, unlimited call to 80 country with tel line ..." Unmatched by anything in Canada.

Sunday, March 1/2015

St David's Day. Did spot someone yesterday returning from Saturday market with a bag of leeks, but thought only of lovely vegetable, not national flower. (In any case have never seen leeks flowering, despite obvious similarity to daffodils).

Make borsch. The Dutch - and quite possibly other countries, but the product from the Netherlands is what we see in the stores - sell a four pack of peeled and cooked beets, vacuum sealed with each beet a little smaller than a tennis ball. Not usually a fan of processed foods, but these aren't very processed. Inexpensive and very handy, with none of the disadvantages of the spongy, peel-wasting, red-handed mess of the supermarkets excuse for "fresh" beets. And beautiful soup.

Incredibly prolonged period of violent coughing from one of the flats near us. Torn between desire to turn up the music to block out the distressing sounds and fear that more morally responsible people than I would provide some kind of assistance, if only calling for medical help. Comfort myself with the thought that choking to death is usually a nearly silent enterprise, so Heimlich manoeuvre (learned many years ago but never practised in operational circumstances) most probably not needed. Eventually coughing becames fainter and less persistent. Recovery? Exhaustion and death?

Saturday, February 28/2015

Gloriously sunny. Actually too hot in the sun, though the official high is 20, but nobody is complaining. We join the Norwegians down at the Fort Pub, between the old fort at the beach end and the mosque. The Norwegians say they meet there every Saturday for a drink and the cake baked for the occasion by the pub's cook, Androula. There are in the end about 30 of us, pretty much the same as the crowd on Green Monday, and Tore has brought his accordion again. Have a good laugh when the proprietor takes my money and says "takk" - Norwegian for thank you. A Greek speaker talking to an anglophone.

Then down the new seaside walkway to the Flamingo, about another to km, to get the painting of Jane's we've been planning to acquire. The art group she belongs to meets at the Flamingo and their paintings decorate the walls until sold. It's very Cyprus and light enough to bring back. 

Friday, February 27/2015

Mr Andreas seems to have vanished since the advent of our new bedroom non-reading lamps a few days ago, just as I've decided to be truthful in response to his (possibly insincere) "tell me what you think."

Mr A: (proudly) We have put new lamps in your bedroom

Me:  Will I still be able to see to read?

Mr A: (slightly deflated) Tell me what you think

But no sign of him since. The lamps in question are designed to cast a dim glow on the ceiling and replace perfectly satisfactory ones that provided adequate reading lights with flexible direction. Absolutely maddening, considering the number of genuine improvements he might have undertaken and the fact that the sitting room lights are dim wall fixtures unsuitable for evening reading. Even buying a lamp is not a real possibility as there is only one ill-placed outlet in the sitting room.

Thursday, February 26/2015

Dental appointments for cleaning, which, happily, appears to be all that needs doing. Same three National Geographics that have been there for years are all the English reading material, although I have an electronic library book with me. Actually the NGs are quite good, but we've covered them pretty thoroughly over the last decade.