Saturday,nNovember 5/2016

Down to Regent Street for the annual Regent Street automotive show, in conjunction with the London to Brighton car rally. The rally is for cars over a hundred years old, and quite a few of them are represented here. But there are also sparkly new concept cars, racing cars, and electric cars with 250 mile range. 

It"s Guy Fawkes night but cold enough we're not keen on going out to watch fireworkd. Some folks must be,nthough - we can hear them non- stop till midnight or later.

Friday, November 4/2016

Queensway as a barometer of London life. Are times tougher? Whitelys - once a posh department store with history and now a shopping centre - has seven empty shops that we count on the ground floor. Plus a card shop that has signs saying it's closing, sale prices, everything must go. Though that's a bit iffier. The overpriced cards haven't been marked down, though the tackier of the overpriced gifts have. Anything I might be at all interested in remains with original sticker. 

There are occasional beggars on the street, though maybe no more than there used to be. Last year I walked past a tall middle aged man looking for donations and was appalled when he shouted angrily "I know you hate Jews!" Don't know whether I was more horrified at being accused, totally unfairly, of anti-Semitism or, equally unfairly, of selecting recipients of charity by ethnicity or religion. In any case, it certainly hadn't occurred to me that he was Jewish, Jewish beggars being, in my experience, rare to the point of non-existence. Or maybe, as this experience illustrates, I just wouldn't know.

 There are buskers, saxophonists and sometimes a double bass player, but they are considerably more cheerful and can reasonably be classed as self-employed. The kids who used to hang round the tube at night looking for day passes with a little life left in them are gone, probably down to the use of chip cards and oysters (loadable transit cards).

 J points out that each time a shop on the street closes it seems to be replaced with a restaurant or food shop - some ethnic and others mini versions of supermarkets, Tesco and Sainsbury's. Mostly pubs or chains appealing to tourists, of which there are quite a lot more than there used to be. This is not an asset, as tourists raise local prices without improving the quality or distinctiveness of offerings. Our memories of this street go back more than 27 years, and in fact our first meal together was here - in a fish and chip shop long since disappeared.

Thursday, November 3/2016

Christmas songs and cheery red menu at Starbucks. To say nothing of disgustingly sweet candy flavoured coffees. Well, guess it's a matter of taste. They did wait until after Hallowe'en, though not Remembrance Day. Advent, of course, a forgotten concept.

Foray down Goldhawk Road in Shepherd's Bush. There's a stretch of the road that's home to a dozen or two fabric shops, most of which seem to be run by Sikhs. Plenty of attractive, sometimes exotic, material. But as usual I'm looking for black corduroy. Thin on the ground,and most of it with baby fine wale. One of the shop owners explains: heavy weight corduroy is bulky to ship and store - and then people buy teo, maybe three yards. Things are tough. The Chinese are charging more, more than Hong Kong. And Brexit? Of course - the pound is down 20%.

Side trip along Shepherd's Bush Market. It's pretty quiet, though maybe not for a week day. Feels a bit down on its luck, with as many vendors as purchasers. Most of it not high quality, and not underpriced either.  Souvenir mugs for £2 that sell for half that on Queensway. But back on Goldhawk Road we do find some corduroy that may serve the purpose.

Then back to Kilburn for supper. Thursday is kleftiko night at Roses, J's favourite. Roses is often home to elderly single men, but the one sitting next to us is a little beyond eccentric. He's not only talking to himself, he's as convincing as any actor in a one man play. Tonal variation, gestures and all - it's clear he can see a companion on the other side of the table. At times he seems, with a question, to want to draw us into the conversation, and we daren't make eye contact. As I whisper to J, it's not that I mind, but I wouldn't know what to say to "the other guy." There are other reasons for not looking, besides ingrained injunctions going back to childhood regarding the rudeness of staring. A quick glance reveals that his jaw seems to incorporate a defective spring: it drops farther than seems possible and looks like it will be unable to close again - though slowly and improbably it does. 

Wednesday, November 2/2016

Head for the Imperial War Museum. Train inexplicably (well, inexplicably or we haven't been paying attention) doesn't stop at Lambeth North Station, so we get off at Elephant and Castle, which lets us poke around the shopping centre and market - and also discover that the Polish restaurant, Mamuska, which we first assume must have closed, has expanded into premises across the road. So on the list for a future meal.

Short walk over to the museum. There's a World War I exhibit on, which proves to be lmore comprehensive and better than we'd expected. Starts with a bit of a profile of pre-war Britain. The average wage was £1.40 a week, with a pint costing 2p. Well, inflation hits everything, but that means a pint costing 1/70 of a weekly income, so you can calculate from there. Some of the other stats require no conversion. Legal school leaving age was 12, and by 16 only 6% of students were still attending. In the west end of London the average age at death was 55 - in the poorer east end it was 30. So going back to the England that used to be looks a little less attractive than Brexiteers would have it. Some things don't change for the better though - one percent of the population controlled 70% of the wealth. Which in those pre-war days left one person in 20 emigrating in search of a better life. When war broke out, the minimum height for men joining up was 5'3, raised to 5'6 by October as overwhelming numbers volunteered but dropped to 5'2" by July 2015 as the war took its toll.

The display includes weapons, uniforms, battle information, home front social changes. And it stresses the tragic pointlessness as much as the courage and dedication. Over a million killed at the Somme, nearly 20,000 of them on the first day. A battle that was eventually, after about five months, abandoned as hopeless on both sides. Pretty thorough, although, as J points out, one would scarcely have thought Canada was there. Then, after we leave, we see what appears at first to be a modern abstract sculpture. Turns out to be the remains of a car, a vehicle that had not survived an explosion in 2007 Iraq that killed 32 people. Not much progress.

Tuesday, November 1/2016

Tube to West Harrow to visit Jean. J collecting leaves from the plane trees (or sycamores - both have leaves shaped like giant maple leaves). The leaves have turned a golden brown, though, and not red. Temp has dropped to about 11, but guess it is November. Quiet visit with catch up, reminiscing, and curry. Wish it were more than twice a year.

Monday, October 31/2016

  Still a little misty, as befits Hallowe'en, but warm, and the sun's out. Afternoon temperatures hit 18. Down to Charing Cross to activate the renewed UK debit card. Errand accomplished, the warm sun is too much a gift to waste, so we walk over the busy footbridge to the South Bank. Plenty of others enjoying the last of the lovely weather, a few of them in costume, including a small girl dressed in shiny purple as a miniature witch, with father taking photographs. Pick up the brochure at the National Theatre. We'll have to see what we can fit in. Extensive stalls with second hand books, and, my favourite, old photographs and prints. Manage not to buy any - maybe next time. Tube to Kilburn for a bit of shopping at Aldi's and home.🎃

Sunday, October 30/2016

Foggy and overcast. Changed to winter time during the night - two AM to be precise - so actually lighter earlier than it would have been yesterday. London is pretty far north as well (51.5074 degrees), which leads to short winter days, so the time change will mean sunset at 4:35 pm. Do end up wondering what hope there is for world peace when we can't even agree on a universal date for moving the clocks (or indeed whether to do so). 

Camden High Street crowded as usual on a Sunday, when its small tube station is exit only. We emerge to see a street entertainer doing the limbo. He's all performance, shaking dramatically as he passes under the bar, which at this point is high enough that I could do it, but we don't stay for the finale. With Hallowe'en looming we've been encountering grim reapers, clowns and the walking dead on the underground. Here there are, as always on a weekend, throngs of young people overspilling the sidewalk, though there may be more Goths, and are certainly more vampires, than usual. Queues at Lidl stretch all the way to the back of the store - not worth stopping for one jar of sun dried tomatoes despite the attractive 85p (€0.94, $1.37 CAD) price. Back just in time to catch the beginning of Mexican Grand Prix coverage at six.

 

Saturday, October 29/2016

Still mild, though a bit misty. Tube and Dockland Light Railway to Greenwich, a bit slower and more crowded because, as usual on a weekend, service is suspended on several lines and the remaining ones are overburdened. The market is buzzing - ethnic foods and some pretty imaginative crafts - like glass liquor bottles, flattened heaven only knows how to serve as plates or bases for clocks. Also jewellery, cartoons, old photographs, scarves, carvings, etc. We're only a short block from Goddard's, the pie shop that has been family run in Greenwich for over a hundred years. It used to be a classic, cheap and delicious pies with mash and peas, fruit crumbles, gravy or custard (depending) overflowing. Not health food exactly, but superb comfort food served at long scrubbed wood tables with large mugs of tea or bottled beer. After a bit of family upheaval it closed briefly and then moved from its original premises a couple of blocks away. It's never quite recovered, though. Prices have, understandably, risen - they do over time - but the food is not quite what it was. Pies are definitely smaller, with a higher ratio of crusts to content. Servings of everything are diminished. Some of the original basics, like peas, have become extra. It's crowded as of old, the queue reaches the door, so it's hard to argue with the economics, but the assumption is that the patrons are not old locals. Last time we were here the server had no knowledge of the previous location. It's just another Greenwich eating spot. We may not be back.

On the packed train coming home an Asian woman offers me her seat, and I accept gratefully as I'm carrying bags with two bottles of wine. A stop or two later she gets a seat but promptly offers it to J, who is carrying four bottles of wine, but much more discreetly than I. Naturally he declines. She does succeed a little later in giving the seat to a woman with a small child. Confirmation of my entirely unscientific observation that seats are most frequently offered by young Asian men, followed closely by young Asian women.

Friday, October 28/2016

Cyclamen from the corner flower sellers (small pot for £1) brightening our room. Lovely moving back into a room that we've stayed in so often that we know where things go as we unpack. Delighted to find that the pay as you go mobile is still working. It's supposed to be good for six months non-use without dying, but it's been six months plus a day, so had low expectations. Think there was about £9 ($14.58 CAD) on it, so that should more than cover more than the three weeks we're here for this time and take us well into next spring's stay.

Super weather. Temp midday about 16 or 17. Light jackets. Up Kilburn High Road. No major signs of financial disaster and prices don't seem to have risen much - though some packages may have shrunk a little in order to remain the same price. As usual, fruit and veg bought on the street corners a much better deal than those in supermarkets. £1 for half a kilo of red grapes - one of the easier fruits to keep for snacking with no kitchen facilities. Earlyish supper at Roses. Cod and chips, excellent as always. High proportion of Roses' [yes, the apostrophe is in the right place] patrons are elderly singles, clearly regulars. Women usually in pairs or part of a couple. The men engaging in what I think of as pub style socialising. They concentrate on the meal or read a paper while they eat - there's a few newspapers near the till for the purpose - but there are sporadic bits of chat about sport or events, and it seems the blokes know each other. The singles are known to the East European waitresses too, and leave to a cheery "see you tomorrow".

Thursday, October 27/2016

A hundred and nine miles from London. Can smell the coffee. There still is coffee. Can faintly remember when there was breakfast on international flights. Think that there are faint memories of hot breakfasts - but perhaps that was a dream. Meal consists of a slice of very cold cake, 8"x5.5". Very sweet. Wonder what they do if you've ordered the diabetic meal. Substitute dry bread? Withhold the slice? Suspect that this is in preparation for abandonment of free meals entirely. Have noticed that when other airlines do this half the commentary is about how outrageous the omission is while the other half is along the lines of what rubbish the food was and how little it will be missed. In all fairness, though, the coffee is fresh brewed and a great improvement on the stewed cigarette butt flavour of years gone by.

Stewardess passes out landing cards to be filled in by anyone whose passport is neither UK nor EU. Or EU citizens practising for post Brexit? One more government expense post Brexit. And queues at Heathrow lasting long after your luggage has disappeared from the carousel. Indeed after a ten minute walk to immigration and a forty minute wait in queue our carousel has long ceased moving and our suitcases, with a half dozen companions, are waiting in a lonely clump. Not stolen, anyway, though it must be getting easier to do so. Can't blame the immigration clerks either. Ours is friendly but says when we suggest more staff and higher pay, that the opposite has occurred - her pay has been cut twenty percent. Amazing amount of patience and good humour about. Though maybe not always, as there are plenty of signs warning against abuse of staff. Things can only get worse when the other EU countries join the immigration lines.

Walking from Bayswater tube station to our temporary home in the heart of London, zone 1, a large, healthy looking fox tears across the road in front of us, at an intersection just off Queensway.

Wednesday, October 26/2016

Ian kindly drops us at the airport, so we're off. Well nearly. Flight half an hour late and oversold. Must have found a volunteer for their $400 compensation in return for waiting for the next flight though, as they don't reannounce the offer. Flight from Ottawa not overfull, though. Electrical connections at each seat, which is good because there were only two per departure lounge at the airport. Dinner tasteless nursery food, but wine quite drinkable.

Tuesday, October 25/2016

Visit Anna and Jeff and the little boys, who are in the process of moving into a newly built house in an endless east Winnipeg conglomeration of same, colonising the prairie for miles. Some houses already sporting green lawns, though, and trees with bundled roots lying by drives ready for instant landscaping. House full of light and still smelling new. Boys busy with toy trains on the floor. J and Ian spend considerable time installing a baby gate with obscure instructions at the bottom of the stairs, hampered somewhat by four year old Riley's removal of two bits of hardware to an upstairs bedroom.

Our last taste of pickerel for the year as Susan, somewhat unfairly as she was the only one at work today, produces a lovely fish fry.

Monday, October 24/2016

Technically it's Monday, as the train leaves at nine minutes after midnight. And it's on time - in fact early - which is nice, since VIA sees fit to provide info only for the Windsor Quebec corridor, hundreds of miles to the east of us, after business offices close for the day. Relatively easy to find the info for making claims when the train has been several hours late, an obvious admission that this happens frequently, but no method for avoiding spending said hours in the station instead of in the comfort of your one's home. Actually Patrick, who is seeing off a friend, says that, surprisingly, if you keep calling the number that professes to be for business hours only, eventually (and presumably randomly) someone may answer. 

Notice the sign on the toilet wall requesting that passengers refrain from flushing while the train is in the station. But surely raw sewage is no longer spewed on the tracks? No? Well, googling reveals that this is indeed still the case. Not only here but in The UK as well - and quite probably most of the rest of the world, to which my computer set up is less sensitive. VIA claims it would take government millions to acquire holding tanks, the British papers are full of complaints, railway workers are subjected to disgusting effluent, and the Atlanta centre for disease control insists there is no health hazard. There you have it.

The train is warm enough - not a given - and only half full, so we have the comfort of two facing double seats. Almost lying flat space as the footrests can be made to meet at seat level. 

Train in at 7 - an hour early - and we're allowed to disembark at half past, once the station staff are on duty. Ian kindly picks us up after dropping Susan at work. Our first  visit since he retired. Some advantages here, as he heats potato soup made with potatoes from Susan's garden. Very nice.

Friday, April 29/2016

You can't go home again. Or can you? Final leg of our journey home. The train is late in arriving at the station in Winnipeg - not unusual - and we get talking to a soft-spoken man who is moving home to the Gaspé after an absence of forty-two years. He's retired now and just made up his mind. Didn't even tell most of his mates. Speaks affectionately of a woman he knows who has sent him birthday and Christmas cards through the years. Just a friend or is he hoping for more? He's not from Winnipeg. Thompson maybe? Spent the afternoon at Polo Park Mall where friends were supposed to meet him but they never showed up. You can only drink so many cups of coffee. And what will the Gaspé hold for him after the decades? He's injured himself and is walking with a cane so they pre-board him when the train comes in and we don't see him again. One unfinished story from tonight's train. 

The train, due at five in the morning gets in about 8:30. Final blog until we resume our roaming life.

Thursday, April 28/2016

Jet lagged, so that six AM feels like the noon it is in London. Get up after an hour. Ian and Susan at work but lunch with Janet and Dave, Judy and Dino. Dino just out of hospital and the restaurant chosen for its wheelchair access and accommodating staff. Dinner at home with I and S. Then Ian takes us to the station, as the train, originally meant to leave at 10:30 is delayed. Know the delay is definite when we're offered tea and biscuits.

Wednesday, April 27/2016

Airports and security. Montreal is nicer than Toronto - less hostile, politer, smaller. Luggage trolleys free. Remember for future trips. Before security at Montreal dispose of water acquired after security in London. Some unseen passenger had to dispose of what they couldn't finish of a bottle of Baileys. Empty and half empty bottles accumulating on the benches before the security queue.

Saturday, April 23/2016

To Thames Ditton to see Jenny and Doug and family. Farmers' market on outside the George and Dragon pub, so we have a quick look and a couple of tastes while the rain makes up its mind and decides against. Our first view of Morris dancers - entertaining, though rather in the vein of a Black Adder parody? Everyone there for lunch - Jenny's mum, Laura and boys, Emma and Giles and girls - thirteen of us altogether, not including two dogs and a cat. Jenny and Doug the only people we know with a table that can accommodate such numbers, symbol of their open hospitality. Jenny off to China next month with a friend. 

Train to Waterloo instead of Wimbledon so we can stop off on the South Bank and catch the end of the Shakespeare festivities -  screens set up at intervals playing clips from the plays, all 20 plus.

Friday, April 22/2016

Last weekend coming up. A number of anniversaries this week. Yesterday the queen's ninetieth birthday. Tomorrow Shakespeare's birthday, as well as the four hundredth anniversary of his death. 

Revisit the warren - a complexity of shops behind the store fronts at the Bayswater end of Queensway. You enter through one of two shops with carry ons or similar and one small room or narrow corridor leads to another. The shops change hands over time, tracing the waves of immigrants. Possible to buy Russian dolls, or Brazilian food, have your computer repaired or your mobile phone unlocked. A unisex Polish hairdressing establishment - signs in Polish as well as English - will cut your hair for £7 (€8.75, $12.65 CAD), compared to £25 for a shampoo and blow dry in a shop on the street outside. A watch repairman has a corner den overwhelmed by its contents - which seem to include every saleable curio that has come the watchmaker's way,  Dickensian surfeit.

Thursday, April 21/2016

To the Wellcome Collection, which we remember best for acnoon hour presentation on vitamin D some years ago. The exhibit we've come for is on the human voice. Probably the most interesting bit is the opening theory, which suggests that speech began prehistorically with song, for purposes of bonding rather than conveying information. Obviously unprovable, but a great deal of speech in our time is essentially bonding rather than information - just listen to any two teenage girls.

 We're in the area of the Mary Ward Café, part of an adult learning centre. They have a cosy little vegetarian café that we've used in the past because of its proximity to the London School of Economics, where we sometimes go for evening lectures. Tonight there's a very nice broccoli and cauliflower quiche, which we both choose, or a vegetarian moussaka, which also looks good.

The presentation we go to after supper isn't at the LSE but at the London Review of Books shop, where veteran maverick journalist Seymour Hersh is interviewed by LRB editor Adam Shatz. Hersh is famous for having broken the stories of the My Lai massacre and the Abu Ghraib abuses. More recently, and more controversially, he has written on Assad and the poison gas issue (he argues, plausibly, that the Syrian Army wasn't responsible for the Ghouta incident) and has refuted the official American version of the killing of Osama bin Ladin. Tonight he's in good form, entertaining and reminiscing on his decades as a reporter and journalist. Shatz is a little too gentle in bringing out the genial and skimming over the criticisms - which mostly come down to sources that were intimately involved but reluctant to be cited publicly. Hersh claims that if they are not willing to confirm their accounts to his editors he doesn't use them as sources. And certainly in the past the official story was cover up bs and Hersh was right. Small shop, but sold out. Anyway, Hersh enjoying himself, audience uncritical, glasses of wine. 

Wednesday, April 20/2016

Stunning day. As J says, it's a shame to go inside, but there are two exhibitions we want to see at the Imperial War Museum. Stop at Trafalgar on the way. Our UK bank is there and confirms that the bank card has been mailed out. Current one expires at the end of the month. The replica Palmyra arch is on display now, attracting plenty of sightseers. 

On to the War Museum. Thefirst exhibition we're here for is photographs by Nick Danziger. It's on the theme of women facing war and features pictures of 11 women that he photographed about 2001 and then returned ten years later to see how they had fared. We'd heard him speak on BBC5 - so compelling that I'd found the program I'd heard in the middle of the night and replayed it for J. Quite a remarkable man, Danziger. He had been a photo journalist, always on the road and often in war zones, and had found he had to protect three young victims of war in Afghanistan, eventually adopting them rather than abandoning them. As the UK did not allow single parent adoptions at the time, he ended up making a home in Monaco, which was accommodating and helpful. This exhibit includes a short film featuring each of the eleven women - or more accurately ten women and a girl, fulfilling the rôle of a woman as she tries to feed and protect her two younger brothers after her mother died and her father abandoned them, sometimes reduced to eating grass - and what then, she asks, sand? From Israel and Palestine to Bosnia to Africa and  Afghanistan, he finds them all, except for the young girl, who he believes has died. There's a short but moving film sponsored by the International Red Cross about the women accompanying the photographs. Often sad and occasionally inspiring. A profound anti-war statement. 

And the next gallery presents an equally profound and even more un-nuanced message. It features the work of Peter Kennard, "unofficial war artist," with mixed media works, posters and collages covering decades and protesting the means and results of war. Sometimes bitter, sometimes witty, sometimes clever.

Tuesday, April 19/2016

Back to Covent Garden to reload ipad from the Cloud. A great deal better than attempting it from the Starbucks office. Then meet up with Jenny, who has been collecting a visa for China. Catch up lunch at the Museum of London and a quick look at the pre-historic gallery - striking in its similarity to native North American Indian museum galleries elsewhere. Stone tools, and a hunter gatherer existence. 

Back to Kilburn, where one of the corner fruit and veg stands is shutting down for the day. Any two baskets for £1.50 (€1.89, $2.72 CAD). We get a basket of small oranges - 20 of them - and one of cherry tomatoes - must be a kilo. Where are they from? Morocco, they're always the sweetest. Roses at supper time. The owner, it turns out, is Kurdish, from Turkey, and we chat. What is it about Erdogan, I ask. He's crazy. Pretty much our own conclusion.

Monday, April 18/2016

Down to Covent Garden for the Apple Genius Bar, which has treated us very well in the past. And a nice young man who wipes the older of the ipad minis in order to refresh its software. The good news being that its quirks do not appear to be signs of imminent demise. 

Then to the National Portrait Gallery. Rather thinking of taking another look at the portrait of Shakespeare, the one believed to be the only one done during his lifetime. Turns out that the 400th anniversary of his death is being celebrated by lending said painting to Moscow. Pay a visit to the Stuart gallery anyway. And renew acquaintance with the genealogical chart that shows the transfer of the crown from the Stuarts to the Hanoverians. Had always supposed that the supporters of Bonnie Prince Charlie were romantic dreamers, but the chart suggests otherwise. He was the only son of the only son of James II, and the obvious royal choice, had it not been for anti Stuart and anti Catholic sentiment. In the light of which a tenuous link led to a German monarch who disliked England and spoke virtually no English.

In Trafalgar Square they're setting up the 3D 2/3 size copy of the Palmyra arch, recently destroyed by ISIS and soon to be on proper display for 3 days.

Sunday, April 17/2016

Wake up to the Shanghai Grand Prix on BBC Radio5. Once upon a time it would also have been on tv, but that is getting increasingly difficult without pay channels. Somewhat like boxing. Previously BBC alternated with Sky in tv race coverage, but it has given up its contract before it expired, so now we can rely on Channel 4, for about every second race. No way to acquire a new generation of fans, but there it is. Pretty chilly out.

 To Camden Town in the afternoon. It too is changing. The fruit and veg market that was on Inverness Street is gone, of course. There's an interesting division. Come out of the Camden Town Tube station and turn right and you are in the middle of Camden market - all youth, counter culture, live music, tattoos, incense, t-shirts, piercings. Turn right and you're in the world of small supermarkets, charity shops, fast food restaurants, hardware shops, mobile phone unlocking services, and pound stores. The people at this end of the high street are local - careful shoppers trailing kids or stopping at a pub. A Lidl store here, with queues showing how it and Aldi are running competition to the traditional supermarkets, though this one is neither as big nor as busy as the Kilburn Aldi.

Saturday, April 16/2016

Things change. Along Queensway the East European grocery shop has become a Mediterranean grocery shop. Other shop fronts (including the currency place where we watched the fire a year ago?) seem to have combined with flats above to become a hotel. We've watched this street for over a quarter of a century. The luggage shop on the corner across from Whitely's once sold roast quarter chickens, though that was a very long time ago. It's gone upscale a bit too. Restaurants and pubs more expensive than they once were and pretty posh cars as well. 

Kilburn High Road is our other street. A bit like Queensway used to be. Rough and ready, multi-ethnic. Good local theatre and still some cafés that aren't chains and do attract working class locals. Two of them are on our must try list, but this time we find ourselves drawn back to Roses, where they do both the best lamb kleftiko (though only on a Thursday) and the best fried fish - perfectly done and longer than the plate.

Friday, April 15/2016

Rainy, as promised by the weather persons. Debate which indoor venue to go to and end up falling asleep. Waste of London time, but resetting internal time clock. And always behind reading stack of newspapers and tablet pocket articles all for "later".

Thursday, April 14/2016

Tube to West Harrow to visit Jean. Take our umbrellas as the forecast is iffy, but this is sufficient to ward off rain until we get back. Reminiscences and chat, about family, friends, politics, books - and wine and Cornish pasties, the first since Cornwall. We sit in the dining room! Where the french doors let in the sun and look out on the garden. The garden is looking good, with azaleas in bloom and a robin visiting, as well as two of the neighbours' cats sizing each other up. 

Wednesday, April 13/2016

Starbucks office to set up for the day. J spots a comment on Twitter from Ben Judah. He's going to be interviewed at the Waterstones bookshop on Hampstead High Street tonight. Attempt to buy tickets online. Bizarre site involves filling out forms printed in black on charcoal. Eventually give up and phone bookshop. They have plenty of tickets so we arrive early enough and then poke around the antique shops. Lovely, and expensive, area. Young couple are operating a coffee shop out of a disused red phone booth and kindly let me photograph their operation. Reluctant to ask them to stand back while I set the shot up properly so it's a bit substandard. 

About 25 or 30 people there for the interview. They've clearly done the routine before, but it's good. X asks the questions to get Ben started and then the performance is on - explanations, background, readings "in character", accents and all. Energetic and engaging. Like Judah's. book, This is London, the various migrants he met telling their own stories. Perhaps too much reading from the book. He does it well and it is compelling - but presumably everyone in the room has recently read, or is about to read, the book, and his method and insights are interesting.  Over a third of Londoners were born abroad, half of them having arrived since 2000. This has nothing to do with the current issue of war refugees, who would in any case be a drop in the bucket, and is also different from past waves of immigration here - the Huguenots, of whom there were 50,000 over 20 years, the Irish following the famine, the Jews (including Judah's grandparents) with 200,000 immigrants over 30 years. These people, large numbers of East Europeans, Africans, and Middle Easterners, are changing the character of the city. They are also living very difficult lives, often without the communal supports of the past and without much realistic expectation that life will be better for their children. Personally Judah sees London in a historical tradition of cosmopolitan trading cities of past and present - Venice, Hong Kong, Krakow, Calcutta, Alexandria. Cities with a varied cultural and ethnic presence and power. The hour passes quickly. A glass of wine, the signing, and we're on the tube with our new book. Have wanted it ever since first seeing excerpts. It's only disappointment being that the many photographs that were in colour on the internet are, in the hardcover book non-gloss black and white. The real loss not the black and white but the lack of sharpness.

Tuesday, April 12/2016

Packing done, but there seem to be odd piles of things that belong nowhere. Little piles - a half lemon, three plastic bags, some lids. Nothing important but causes of micro decision making. Boxes - embarrassingly rhere are now 7 of them - down to storage in the mezzanine. Actually 7 plus the rack for drying clothes. Three oranges that don't fit anywhere in the luggage, which is sad as we know it will be six months before we taste any half as sweet. Suitcases stuffed and down to turn in the key in reception. Drama begins. Are we really leaving? One moment - Chris (next door at the travel agency) will want to say goodbye. (He never has done before). And the young man on reception - whose name we never did learn - has to pick up the gift for us, from the whole staff! Chris is busy: can we wait? No, sadly we have a bus to catch. Young man returns with bottle of wine, clearly hastily purchased round the corner, to which Lefka hastily attaches  sentimental note. We express extreme gratitude - but we have no room at all for an extra bottle. But perhaps Chris ( who is still busy next door) could arrange for them to seal it at the airport so we could take it as hand luggage? Seems unlikely, but, worse, we really can't carry more weight. And it has to be carried further at the London end than the Larnaca end. Don't explain all this. J just says, very that, grateful though we are, it is impossible. Can they keep it for our return in November? We will be happy to see it then. And so, with hugs and kisses, drama ends - and we catch the bus with about thirty seconds to spare.

 Plane extremely full. Our usual trick of booking aisle and window of a threesome at the back of the plane fails, so as fallback I trade and sit in the middle when the plane fills up. Decent meal and quite drinkable wine. Window Seat Passenger next to us leaves to visit the loo - and doesn't return. Have, naturally, not timed his visit, but he is gone so long that eventually we cease thinking that it would be wise not to follow him too closely into the same loo and begin wondering first whether he is all right and then whether he might have died. Have visions of being delayed endlessly at Heathrow as airline staff and police question us about his final moments in the window seat. How long has it been - half an hour? At least. Presume that the now endless queue for the toilets must all be using one facility, the other being permanently occupied. Then J joins the queue and notes that  WSP is happily drinking water in the galley. No disaster. 

Back to Bayswater, and favourite of our rooms. Little things matter - radiator rather than portable heater means it's possible to dry a pair of socks. Definite asset. Genie greets us as usual, but since our last visit she has broken arm (shoulder, elbow?) in three places. Will undoubtedly never be the same again, and she's much younger than we are. The fragility of life.

Monday, April 11/2016

Packing. Boxes packed like Chinese puzzles to store in the mezzanine housekeeping area until next time. First few years we stored nothing, but now we've acquired a large soup pot, a ceramic frying pan, mugs, glasses, CDs....makes for a nice winter but the packing is time consuming. And inevitably once the boxes are taped and tied there is something we wish we could retrieve or add. Maggi and her friend Sama stop so M can say goodbye.  Sama is Sri Lankan and works as an underpaid and overworked housekeeper for a Cypriot family. Mistreatment of foreign workers unfortunately endemic in Cyprus, from denying time off to assigning extra work for friends or relatives, to delaying pay. Sama cheerful nonetheless.

Sunday, April 10/2016

Last Sunday lunch at Bill and Jane's. David and Susan give us a lift out. Bill's famous fish pies and Jane, ambitiously, makes blini as a starter. With smoked salmon and crème fraiche style topping. Very nice. Also apple pie, to which Bill adds a few raisins. Harry arrives on his Harley after we've eaten, having previously given warning that he'll be late. They've saved him some of the lunch, though, and he keeps us entertained as he eats, reminiscing about the days when he captained commercial ships. There are an endless supply of the stories; today's featuring a ship off the coast of Africa carrying five passengers as well as goods, two of them being then president Nkrumah of Ghana and his bodyguard. 

Home in the evening watch the swifts as they engage in aerial acrobatics. Swifts even mate and sleep on the wing. Their tiny legs are not well designed for perching but  the long wing span allows them to coast for extended periods.

Photo: Paweł Kuźniar

Friday, April 8/2016

Haircut. Could in theory leave it to tomorrow or Monday but last minute contingencies have a way of intervening. Incredibly busy (though Saturday would probably have been no better. They don't take appointments and there are ten people ahead of me. Possibly more, as women keep appearing in the doorway to ask questions or shuffle over to the owner, interrupting him as he finishes a haircut to hold brief but serious discussions. Naturally all conversation is in Greek, so there is no way of knowing whether these are entirely innocent requests for information or arrangements for queue jumping. There are actually five hairdressers at work, so ten customers waiting is not as bad as it might seem, and in fact I get taken quite quickly. In fact, I have a method. It seems that if I take an ipad and have either work to do our something serious to read the waiting time will be shorter than is required for the task.

Thursday, April 7/2016

Bill and Jane arrive at 9:30 with B's small bag of tools, specifically appropriately sized wrenches. J has already picked up the replacement wheels for his suitcase from the excellent DIY place conveniently located around the corner. Some discussion of why J's wheels have worn while my identical ones have not. They settle on the theory that his were less tightened, allowing more play, dismissing my (unserious) suggestion that I take more care. Now free to start initial packing.

Wednesday, April 6/2016

 Begin with dental appointments. Waiting room has the same four National Geographic magazines as always. Dated 2006, and not precisely the same as, increasingly bits are missing as English readers presumably take home articles to finish reading at leisure. Only here for teeth cleaning, although Xenia, our dentist finds bits of breakage which will need to be repaired eventually. Can see an obvious advantage for female dentists - their hands are smaller, which is better when your mouth is full of fist. 

Then Jane, on her way back from her painting group, picks us up and we head out to Potamoc Creek, collecting Bill who has set out walking to meet us. Temperature about 27 - hotter under the full sun, of course. The creek is actually a bit more than that, although water level and stream width vary a bit with tide and rainfall. It's a picturesque spot south of Agia Napa, where fishing (and the odd pleasure) boats are moored. Rustic docks, sheds, and a couple of restaurants. We eat lunch on the veranda of the larger. More upscale menu than we're expecting - this isn't a little fish and chips joint. It is a fish restaurant, though. Start with mussel and shrimp saganaki. New to us, but Greek dishes with the seafood in a spicy tomato sauce. Made with ouzo, though to be honest we wouldn't have identified it, and with feta cheese melted into it. Delicious. Then the fish: whitebait (Jane), swordfish (Bill), sea bream (J), and sea bass (me). All fresh caught and lovely. Beautiful day.

Tuesday, April 5/2016

Temperatures now in the high twenties, so after J's beach walk we head to George's Apollo Café. In mid-winter the shady location in a covered walkway is not an asset, but now it comes nto its own. George boasts an extensive collection of classic film posters, some of which he hangs outside in the passage where his tables are in the daytime. He's also both knowledgeable and philosophical, always good for a chat or a game of backgammon with a patron.

Cyprus mail refers to the prime minister of the Turkish Republic of Northern Cyprus, who has resigned, putting the title of prime minister in quotation marks, only slightly subtler than the state tv channel feeling compelled to call him the so-called prime minister. Difficult to see how this can lead to a happy reunification any time soon.

Monday, April 4/2016

Happy bit of Cyprus trivia: there are still more than 7,000 anti-personnel and anti-tank mines in the ground across Cyprus. Removal slowed mainly by cost, though occasionally someone is injured or killed by one.

Sunday, April 3/2016

Sunday April 3.  Cambanella's for lunch. Last time for this year, the first of a sequence of lasts. Into summer weather now, although the Cypriots don't think of it as summer weather - that belongs to the high temperature high humidity pressure cooker of June through August, the time when most of our friends try to take their holidays in the UK or elsewhere.

Saturday, April 2/2016

Bus out to Pyla and we're off to the North, passports in hand to show at the border checkpoint. Our internet directions are a bit imprecise, but it seems that the camp that can be seen (sort of) is a little north of Famagusta - German Palestinian settlers, known as Templers, having been accommodated south of the city. Quite surprisingly we do find it, we think. Past the university, a large fenced area of fields and sand looking as if it is used for military exercises. On down to the sea. We're on a bay with soft sand and crystal clear water. Lovely! The camp will have been on the same beach, just the other side of the forbidding sign, but imprisonment pretty well negates any natural beauty. There's something about barbed wire. 

Carry on a little up the coast to Bogaz, a pretty spot on the sea where we stop for lunch, a very nice shrimp casserole. Super day.

Friday, April 1/2016

April 1 is Cyprus National Day, and by chance the second long weekend in a row. Not Cypriot Independence Day, but the anniversary of the day the terrorist/guerrilla/liberationist group EOKA began bombing and blowing up people, chiefly British military, as the island was British until 1960. Previous Friday was Greek Independence Day. Why? Good question.  So down to the waterfront in the afternoon. Lots of people out. Warm and sunny, so people swimming, eating ice cream, buying balloons for the kiddies. Stop at Harry's Café and celebrate by splitting a beer instead of getting our usual Greek coffees. 

Jane and I have imessage discussion on island exploration. Mention that J is interested in finding where the detention camp was that Jewish would-be immigrants to Palestine/Israel were kept in between 1946 and 1949. Jane immediately suggests we go tomorrow, spurring a couple of hours late night research on my part so that we don't drive round aimlessly wondering. Available info both sparse and vague, but collect what I can.

Thursday, March 31/2016

Ailsa to leave Monday for England to see her sister, whose condition may be terminal. By the time she gets back we will be gone, so A organises a meal at the kabob place oround the corner from Smart. We've been before, with Jane and Bill, but only at lunch. Very nice. Good food and, unusually for a Cypriot restaurant, it's possible to hear well enough to carry on a conversation. Usually the volume of talk at other tables precludes normal conversation. 

To our place for coffee after, or nearly so. We all get in the lift and it makes a buzzing sound and dies. Notice on wall says maximum 6 people, 475 kg. Mental maths follow. We're definitely under even if, as J says, we weigh more than we did two hours earlier. But the elevator is unimpressed by mathematics and we're forced to confess to Kiki, who calls a repairman. Jane unable to walk up four and a half flights, so Ailsa, J and I go and make coffee, and take it downstairs, along with glasses, mints and liqueurs. Kiki has kindly asked us to make ourselves at home in the lounge - probably depriving her of her regular evening television - so we end up with coffee in much pleasanter surroundings than our flat.

Wednesday, March 30/2016

More on the hijacker. The ex wife he wanted to see tells a somewhat different story, as exes are wont to do - one of neglect and lack of interest in the family. It appears that the separation received some police assistance, as he was deported - more than once for forging passports. Sympathy wanes.

Tuesday, March 29/2016

Listening to BBC forces radio early in the morning when there is brief breaking news mention of a hijacked plane heading toward Cyprus. Confirmed by googling on the ipad. M rings to ask if we're watching Euronews. We're not, but when we turn it on, there's only a brief line about it on the ticker at the bottom of the screen. J leaves for his morning walk on the beach and as soon as he goes the pace of reporting heats up. Euronews is now following with live broadcasting from the Larnaca airport. Check the Cypriot government channels, CYBC 1 and 2. Channel 1 has a cooking show and channel 2 cartoons. BBC World now onsite. Loses its signal briefly but CYBC1 has live coverage set up. There's a lot of speculation and conflicting info. It's an Egyptian domestic flight. No, it actually originated in Saudi Arabia and was due to finish in Cairo after its Alexandria touchdown. There are 82 people aboard or 60, the hijacker asked to go to Turkey or to Cyprus. Euronews has some painful periods of dead air (though probably less painful than the grating voice of their usual female announcer) while BBC fills the time with chat and bits of informed opinion. Do wonder about the quality of the opinion when one of the commentators says "This is a part of the world where they do know what they're doing." Hard not to think of the shambolic Cypriot aeronautical industry.

Leave the coverage to join J for coffee jas the plane sits on the tarmac. Egyptian passengers allowed to leave but crew and some passengers still aboard and presumably negotiations taking place. There is mention of the hijacker having an ex wife living in Cyprus, and also of requests for female political prisoners to be released. When we return after coffee and a stop to pick up a few groceries - chicken, wine, mushrooms, garlic, raw peanuts - there doesn't seem to have been much progress. The ex wife has apparently been taken to the airport, but her identity is being protected. With good reason - she's probably dying of embarrassment. By mid-afternoon the last hostages have been released, the hijacker arrested and the "suicide belt" found to be fake. And We're free to be pleased that we fly out of Larnaca airport two weeks from today rather than today, when the airport was evacuated and all flights diverted, delayed or cancelled.

Monday, March 28/2016

One of the nicer things about Cyprus is the fresh fruit and vegetables available, some of which we rarely see in Canada, and others which we do see but only for a very short season or only as pathetic and expensive specimens. Maggi makes salads that are entirely coriander and rocket, both of which are always available inexpensively in large bunches. Kohlrabi are in all the greengrocers, complete with dark green leaves for the soup pot. Artichokes are somewhat seasonal, more abundant in late winter, but J, having observed one of the women at the market, slices the hearts and sautés them. It's highly labour intensive but makes lovely appetizers or pizza toppers.

Sunday, March 27/2016

Wake before alarm. Out by bus to Pyla, where we pack up enough food for half of Cyprus, plus beer and wine. Harry has forgotten the time change, so supplies us with the key. Depressingly, he's had problems with theft and minor vandalism, in part by the young soldiers doing their national service, who seem both  undisciplined and underoccupied. So grass trimming, weed killing, post painting and a pretty substantial picnic. A few drops of rain just as we finish up.

Saturday, March 26/2016

Errand day, with sorties out to Lidl, the Elephant store and Prinos. Jane's plan is that we will all go out and help Harry get some work done at his cabin, taking a picnic with us. As tomorrow is Sunday the buses run less frequently, so early start means the 8:20 bus. Worse, as Jane reminds me, tomorrow is the change to summer time, so it will feel like a 7:20 bus. Check with google re the ipads updating themselves when the time changes. Answer not entirely reassuring. Yes, probably, but only if allowed to adopt the local time. Which they're not, mainly because of UK sites that we synch with. So will rely on the mobile. Reset the mobile an hour ahead at bedtime. But will it reset itself again in the night?

Friday, March 25/2016

Would be Good Friday here, if the Orthodox Church didn't follow the Julian calendar. As it is, though, it's still a holiday: Greek Independence Day. Rather suggests lack of independence on the part of Cypriots that they celebrate it, but it does make a long weekend. Although not a very nice one - overcast with wind and dust in the air - warnings about high levels of particles. Good day for reading.

Thursday, March 24/2016

Rumblings about taxi drivers threatening to strike. Too many of them and rates too high, so they work hard at preventing shared taxis and even some buses going to the airports. Much less inconvenient for us than the bus strike anyway.

An unprecedented 19 people on the bus as we go out to Vlachos in the evening. Unsurprisingly, if the buses follow a predictable schedule more people are likely to take them. Also, as we go into Easter weekend (for the western Church) there are some (presumably) tourists getting off at the Dhekelia Road hotels. We meet up with Jane and Bill and Harry and Ailsa for a meal. Ailsa now trying to arrange a flight back to England, where her sister is not doing too well after a second brain tumour operation.

Wednesday, March 23/2016

Meet Maggi for coffee at Harry's Café. She's brought Maxi. What a contrast from when M first took her from the shelter as a rescue dog. She used to be so nervous, afraid of strangers, noises, everything. Now she's poised, confident, relaxed. Lovely for both of them.

Tuesday, March 22/2016

Accusations in the press of road transport officials issuing driving licences in return for bribes. Particular reference to the Paphos area but, unsurprisingly, this attracts would be bribers from as far away as Larnaca.

Monday, March 21/2016

Jane's art group has an exhibition opening. It's on all week, though only in the mornings. Cyprus often has cultural displays, museums, etc closing for the day about the time I'm ready to head out, although this could just be when the artists are able to take turns looking after things. Tonight's opening, though, is a respectable 7-9:30 pm. J and B stop at our place but have to be there early, so we walk down for 7. It's in an older building that has be recently restored for use as a cultural centre, and the space is lovely for the purpose - light and spacious with a large room and a smaller one as well as alcoves. Quite a lot of paintings, some of them very good though it's basically an amateur group, and an interesting variety. Only one obligatory opening speech, and (unlike other openings we've attended here) in English not Greek. Quite respectable glass of wine as well. Still warm out when we walk back an hour later.

Sunday, March 20/2016

Bus to Jane and Bill's. We're invited to a fish barbecue. Turns out the fish are skewered shrimp and cubes of salmon, tuna and a white fish. Pretty as well as tasty. Cypriot barbecues are all fitted with indentations for the metal skewers. Have never actually seen one with a grate, although they must exist. B and J eat almost all their meals outside year round, overlooking the garden. Can switch to the other side of the house as sun or wind dictate. Lovely. David and Susan there as well, and give us a lift home.

Saturday, March 19/2016

Saturday. Note that Posted hours in Prinos greengrocer show Sunday as open from 11 to 4. Supreme Court has just ruled that parliament's decision to ban Sunday shopping is unconstitutional. Not that it matters much to retired Canadians.

And in the only in Cyprus department, health officials have launched a disciplinary inquiry against a state hospital surgeon after he reportedly asked for a €2,000 bribe from a patient so that his operation date could be pushed forward.

Friday, March 18/2016

Friday. Make borscht. In large part because beets are sold here already cooked in 500 gram plastic vacuum packs. Suitable for using without getting one's hands (very) dirty. Not Cypriot - usually Dutch. And much nicer than the usual supermarket offerings at home that are often soft and spongy. Eighty-two euro cents this pack ($1.29 CAD, £0.69). Gives some meaning to cheap like borscht.

Thursday, March 17/2016

Thursday. St Patrick's Day. Also Maggi's birthday. So we invite her for late lunch (early supper, whatever) at the Holy Cow. Hotel owner Andreas' son number one's venture. It seems to have been quite successful, in a yuppyish way. Not at all traditional Cypriot, but appealing to a younger crowd and with some slightly more sophisticated offerings. So my grilled chicken and brie sandwich has fig confit on it and J's sandwich has sliced avocado as well as the chicken and gammon. Send M home - or more accurately off to her Greek class - with a jar of lemon curd I made in the morning. Admire her persistence with Greek. She says, possibly accurately, that she'll never be fluent, but she can manage simple conversations with neighbours, tradespeople, etc, which is well beyond anything we can do.

Wednesday, March 16/2016

Since Cyprus is likely to block the required consensus of all EU states for a deal with Turkey re refugees, EU Council President Donald Tusk was in Nicosia yesterday,  saying, no doubt inaccurately, that he was not here to pressure Cyprus.

Tuesday, March 15/2016

Surprisingly, it seems that the price of prescription medicines is determined by the government, which has just announced that prescription medicines costing over €10 will drop in price by 8.5% for the next year. Not entirely sure who is affected, as most residents we know use the hospital pharmacies where they pay a token amount. Fifty euro cents? Certainly pharmacy prices aren't cheap on non-prescription medicines, which are more here than in North Cyprus, or the UK, or Canada. 

Monday, march 14/2016

J's shirt on the drying rack on the balcony. Wind WSW 43km/hr. Have visions of the whole apparatus taking off like some bizarre kite over the rooftops. Today (Green Monday) traditional day for kite flying but much too wild. Promised showers are spotty and the winds dry everything. A newly released study claims that the eastern Mediterranean climate is the driest it's been for 900 years and that this is a factor in the Syrian conflict, as crops have failed and rural dwellers have been forced jobless into the cities. Then in the late afternoon and evening thunder showers.

Sunday, March 13/2016

Sunday lunch at Cambanellas. David and Susan pick us up and we meet up with Jane and Bill. Oddly unbusy for such a nice day, maybe because we're a little earlier than usual. Interestingly our favourite restaurants here all have a similar ritual leave taking ritual in which the owner follows us to the door to thank us for visiting, much as one would bid farewell to a dinner guest in one's own house. There's usually some physical contact - a handshake or pat on the back. In the case of someone the proprietor knows well there may even be a hug or the European kiss on both cheeks. Undoubtedly good business, but you do leave feeling that there is a personal relationship.

Saturday, March 12/2016

Cypriots, and possibly all Greeks, don't seem to differentiate between the k sound and the hard g sound. This shows up in spelling when signs are translated into English, e.g. Crapefruit. Today, just before Orthdox Lent begins, there are hot cross buns on sale at Carrefour, helpfully labelled "hot gross buns." 

Next stop is Prinos, the greengrocer's. A man outside, minus the clichéd trench coat, offers to sell me a watch - not nearly as nice as the one I'm wearing. When I show no interest he suggests perfume instead. Prinos not as busy as I'd expect going into a long weekend, but I spot the sign. They'll be open, unusually, on Sunday, and on Green Monday they're open from an astonishing 6:30 AM to 1:00 PM. After all what Cypriot would wish to celebrate a day that features vegetables without being able to buy fresh ones.

Friday, March 11/2016

[Larnaca waterfront, courtesy Cyprus Mail]

Palm trees not native to Cyprus but introduced about a hundred years ago, largely because tourists like them and associate them with Mediterranean living. Now, however, at risk of being eradicated by the ugly red palm weevil. Hundreds of insects can be in one tree at different stages of development, and they multiply quickly, with a single adult laying over 1000 eggs in a year. Their activity is hidden from view inside the tree until it's too late to treat easily. Best discovered, they say, by putting an ear to the tree and listening for the munching sounds.

[Courtesy Cyprus Mail. Presumably not actual size]

Thursday, March 10/2016

Jane and Bill pick us up after her physio (actually massage cum acupuncture) appointment, and we head north of the border in hopes of finding black corduroy, which seems to be a breed on the verge of extinction. Bill has told us about a fabric warehouse/sales place in Famagusta. He's been there once before and is hoping that memory together with some verbal directions will do it. And it does. We spot the landmark mosque with twin minarets and circle back behind the road it's on and there it is, obviously the fabric building as it's so full that rolls of material appear to be oozing out the door. The inside is astonishing, with ten times the amount of fabric that would have made a full warehouse crammed to the high ceiling, and threatening to choke off the narrow pathways that lead through it as if it were a maze. Impossible to walk without stepping on cotton or lace as the ends of rolls slide underfoot. Not for the claustrophobic. Can they possibly get fire insurance? J and Bill discover a small fire extinguisher in the doorway, almost hidden by fabric. And do they have black corduroy? Unfortunately, no. J is impressed, though, as the man leads us through a hundred foot tunnel of cloth to view the only corduroy they possess, a fairly vibrant terra cotta. Does he know the location of every roll in the building? Sorry not to have found the black corduroy, but the building itself well worth the price of admission. 

We're lucky to have come on a Thursday, though, as Famagusta's weekly market is on. Fruit and vegetables in gleaming jewel tone heaps that would not have disgraced Selfridge's Food Hall. Deep purple aubergines, brilliant oranges, tomatoes. Also stalls with clothing, hardware, costume jewellery. My favourite spot - not even a stall - with one new style broom next to one traditional twig broom. On the edge of the market are bedding plants, small trees ready for transplant and barbecue supplies. We stop on the way back at a roadside café for lunch. The chips that I don't finish would feed four people easily. Good fish and Cypriot sandwiches. Lovely day, warm and breezy.

Wednesday, March 9/2016

Department of low energy? A Cypriot MP has accused civil servants working at the Energy Ministry of skiving off work and even sleeping at their desks during working hours.

“Some of these workers would not even turn up for work and instead be at their other jobs while others would nap during working hours,..the allegations also speak of expensive equipment and machinery – worth around €5million – standing idle. The department in question is the competent authority for the enforcement of the Weights and Measures Legislation...." 

One assumes that "competent" is used in some technical sense. The department head's response is that "some" of the problems have been eradicated.

Tuesday, March 8/2016

Quite a lot of good cars here, and almost no clunkers. Mercedes and BMW to be seen everywhere, with a small sprinkling of Porsches. Walking down to meet J for coffee, I count the number of Mercedes along the main street. My side only, as it's too hard to spot them accurately on the other side, peering through traffic. It's about a mile and I count 27, including a few trucks. Not including parked cars. So double that for both sides of the street.

Monday, March 7/2016

As daily temperatures reliably in the twenties, a question re-arises. Attire seen on the street varies from shorts and t-shirts (mostly on tourists, who may, admittedly, be determined to make the most of a Mediterranean holiday whether the weatherman co-operates or not) to coats with fur collars and lined boots. It's not hard to believe that being accustomed to high or low temperatures influences comfort in same. But surely human physiology is the same regardless of ethnicity or location. So, unsurprising that Brits or Scandinavians enjoy a sea breeze at 20 degrees with minimal clothing. But odder that anyone under a blazing sun wears a zipped up leather jacket. The forecaster may have been right in saying 23 in the shade, but in the sun it's probably closer to 40, and sweat is sweat. Isn't it?

Sunday, March 6/2016

Sunday lunch at Cambanellas with Jane and Bill and Hazel and Bob. Can hardly keep from laughing at the comically disappointed look on the co-owner's face when you turn down a second piece of meat as she carves, the first one having been massive. Choice of lamb, beef, chicken and pork, and she'd be quite pleased to give you all four. 

Lovely weather and parking lots full at all the coastal restaurants. Just round the corner from our place, as we return, there's a parrot sitting on the fence by the crossing light and trying to engage the people in a car pulling up in conversation. Actually looks like he'd like to get into the car.

Sent from my iPad

Saturday, March 5/2016

Grocery shopping Saturday, March 5 - subtitled we may never come home

Strawberries 320 grams (just under 3/4 pound)   €0.43

- hand chosen from the bin, all perfect

Courgettes (zucchini) six small 670 grams.          €0.26

Cauliflower, one small 580 grams                        €0.40

Onions, 2 large, 505 grams.                                €0.35

Cabbage, very green, 1145 grams.                      €0.53

Pears, Conference, 3 large ripe, 650 grams.         €0.71

Hummus, deli, 236 grams.                                   €0.57 

Greek yoghurt, deli,  536 grams.                           €1.23

Total: €4.48.  ($6.57 CAD,  £3.47)

Of course some things do cost more here. Milk is a little more, although cheese isn't. Bread is less. Meat is less, even when imported. Tinned imports tend to be expensive, though not all that necessary. Anything sweet is expensive, sometimes ridiculously so. Greeks have a sweet tooth and prices reflect this. On the other hand almost any wine, beer or even imported liquor is less. And if you are ambitious you can always pick your own herbs, greens, and even snails, in the fields.

Friday, March 5/2016

With Jane and Bill to To Kazani to celebrate Jane's birthday - round two, as her grandson had given her a gift voucher. She had actually tried booking for yesterday, but found them to be fully booked for some event. So today we're greeted effusively and seated in a (temporarily) quiet corner. Temporarily, because it's a live music night, and as it grows closer to the magic nine o'clock the other tables fill up. But first our meze appetizers, slightly different here and including marinated caper greens anf a creamed cheese with roast pepper. Then our mains - pork chop for Bill, baby squid for Jane, grilled shrimp in the shell for me and chicken souvlaki for Joe. A carafe of wine and tiny Greek pastries with the coffee. As we leave the hostess kisses Jane and apologises that they "didn't have time" to open the champagne. Lovely.

Thursday, March 4/2016

Task for the day accomplished. Researched all options for flying back to London, made somewhat more difficult by Easter's situating itself near the end of March, so that our frequent practice of going elsewhere between Cyprus and London runs up against Easter holiday prices and crowds. Reject flights which arrive at Gatwick after midnight (EasyJet) or leave here before dawn (some Aegean). Factor in extra charges for luggage, becoming pretty heavy with all airlines, but not optional for us at the end of the season. Taunted by a number of sites with warnings to hurry - only two seats available at this price, they say, undoubtedly accurately. Eventually reject also flights arriving after 8 pm. If they're late it becomes difficult to reach the hotel before midnight, which seems unfair to Nick, who has the pleasure of waiting up for us, although last time he was extremely gracious about our 1 am arrival. Ignore slight suspicion that Nick doesn't really mind as he can claim exemption from bedmaking duty in the morning on account of his previous late night shift.

In the end, there is surprisingly little difference between so-called discount airlines and regular ones. Much less than in November when, admittedly, fewer people are probably headed for the Mediterranean. Settle on British Airways, where we do get to trade in some of our few remaining points for €36 off the total price. Nicest thing, other than their very civilised approach to free pre-dinner drinks and wine, is the fact that there are never any unpleasant surprises - no nasty downsizing of carry-ons or exorbitant charges for should-be-freebies. So April 12th it is, the latest we've ever left Cyprus.

Wednesday, March 2/2016

Wednesday is early closing in Cyprus. On Sundays stores are closed altogether, and they used to close early on Saturdays as well. The arrangement is by law and does not apply to peripteros (corner shops) or - for whatever reason - to bakeries. However in recent months those stores that wished to do so have been staying open seven days a week, with no early closings. This has suddenly ceased, a bit unevenly, with some establishments, such as Lidl (our local one anyway) staying open on Sundays while others, unwilling to risk a fine, go with the restricted hours. This includes Prinos, the greengrocer, and the animal shelter charity shop. Particularly difficult in the case of the latter, as its customers are disproportionately Philippino and Sri Lankan servants who are only free on Sundays, and sales are already down - the most sensitive indicator of an economy in difficulty.

The current confusion starts with the fact that on December 3 the Supreme Court found a parliamentary law regulating shop hours unconstitutional, arguing the right to regulate the policy was solely the government’s. Assuming "government" in the press releases refers to the civil service, there does seem to be a bit of tail wagging the dog here. In any case, ignoring the Supreme Court, a week later, parliament put it to a vote.

A majority vote, meant a 2006 law regulating shop hours returned into force as of January 2. The Supreme Court (which does seem at first glance to have behaved oddly) overruled. And, as usual, there is the inescapable suspicion that a number of people in more than one body ought properly to have declared conflict of interest. Ah, Cyprus.