Monday, November 19/2018

Ticket booking shop in the old town to book a coach tour to Lisbon for Wednesday. Shop has closed for lunch, so we head to the square to sit in the sun and enjoy a beer. Large is €2.50 during Happy Hour, which would appear to be any time before 5 PM, and small €2, so there’s not much point in going light. 

Amusing ourselves by people watching when a man at the table behind says that I’ve dropped some money. Turns out to be a 50 cent coin, and probably not mine, so I say I’ll leave it for the waiter. The man asks if we’re English and on hearing we’re Canadian, and from northern Ontario, the man and his wife say they’re from Parry Sound. Admit, without prompting, that this is not really northern Ontario, but they have also lived in Sudbury and Sault Ste Marie. Kenora is the coldest place he’s been. He remembers - 45, which I have to admit is unusually cold even for our part of the world. First time in Europe, and liking Portugal. In Albufeira for the day. So happy chat until the beer is gone, the sun is gone and a couple of rain drops fall. 

Then back to the ticket shop. €27 ($41 CAD, £24) each for a full day trip to Lisbon, which seems pretty reasonable. two hundred fifty-six km each way. J asks the young woman where the tourists in Albufeira are from. Mostly England, and some from France. Interestingly Portuguese is enough like French that it’s often easy to read words. 

Home eating supper when flashing lights alert us to ambulance and “emergencia medico” car outside, parked outside the house next door so as to block the road, causing unsuspecting drivers coming along the road to back up quite a distance in the dusk and light rain.Various uniformed men. Large kits carried inside. Goes on for some time, and while we are naturally curious, it seems more than indecent to stand at the window eating sandwiches and watching the neighbours’ drama. So turn out the lights in the flat. And, no doubt happily for all, the drama fizzles out slowly. Great deal of standing about, and some repositioning of vehicles so that the road is open again, and eventually everyone drives off. So presuming no disaster.

Sunday, November 18/2018L

 Looked up Portuguese average monthly salaries and found some interesting European comparisons. Second map adjusts for standard of living (PPP)

Saturday, November 17/2018

Rain forecast, so no plans far from home. Stay in and make spaghetti sauce. Spaghetti sauce happens, though rain doesn’t. Windows frequently streaming, though, due to our habit of continuously breathing. Drying clothes a reminder of days of washing diapers (there’s an age marker) in Ottawa, where our local bylaws prevented hanging them outdoors and they languished damply for days. Average humidity here not much different from London (or for that matter Sioux Lookout) for November, but interior surfaces always seem damp. Partly because they’re designed for coolness in summer, with tile and stucco, though we do have heaters. Though  temperatures significantly warmer than above mentioned, so heaters frequently not needed in the daytime. Of course the simmering spaghetti sauce makes a contribution to the condensation.

Friday, November 16/2018

A busy and bizarre two days following the release of the draft working agreement, as the Brexit drama reaches a catastrophically low point without ever quite resulting in a defeat of the government in the House. Presumably no non-confidence motion is forthcoming because no one is quite prepared to deal with the fallout, divisions within the Labour opposition being nearly as dire as those within the propped-up-by-the-Irish-Unionists governing Tories. 

The prime minister surviving by sheer dogged determination. Though not necessarily for long, as a leadership review can be triggered by 15% of the parliamentary Conservative party writing letters to the backbench ”1922 Committee” requesting it. Twenty-two of the requisite 48 members have now publicly claimed to have done so. One has, in fact, posted his amateurish letter on Twitter, leading to well justified comments on his lack of formal writing skills, and somewhere his former English teacher is hoping to remain anonymous. But how many non-exhibitionists have also submitted letters? 

There have been seven resignations so far, including two cabinet ministers, one of whom was Dominic Raab, the Brexit Secretary. Raab had only been Secretary for Exiting the EU since July, replacing the cheerful but terminally idle David Davis, whose Permanent Secretary [deputy minister] Simon Fraser, who has since left for the private sector, said of him today: “David Davis was a terrible Brexit Secretary. He could hardly be bothered to go to Brussels & rapidly lost respect there. Preposterous for him now to suggest that EU deliberately delayed negotiations. They spent months waiting for him to engage”. No sour grapes there, either - plenty of corroborating evidence. 

Some entertainment value in all this, despite the generally depressing state of affairs. It seems the infamously backstabbing Michael Gove, known for his lack of loyalty and ill-concealed ambition, was offered the job and refused, with an unknown senior Brexiteer being quoted as saying: “Michael’s wrestling bouts with his conscience constitute the longest winning streak in British sporting history”. 

Meanwhile dire, and all too probable warnings in the press about the UK’s coming economic woes have been including exaggerated, and simply untrue statements about the pound sterling having crashed or plummeted. The pound is noticeably above the low point vs the Canadian dollar for the last 30 days (as well as last 90). Similar profile with the US dollar and the euro. Have noticed much hype in the commentary of economists on similar minuscule movements in the past, and can only guess that this is what passes for high drama in the grey life of number crunchers. But sound and fury signifying not nearly enough for us to scale up that portion of our lives spent in the UK.

Thursday, November 15/2018

Friendly seagull back today. Indeed, why not? Huge advantages to having J dip bits of bread in the olive oil from the tuna tin (yes, it is olive oil) compared to foraging. J tries small pieces of apple. Bird not impressed. 

Third time lucky - we find the sub post office. It’s on 25 Abril [April] Street. Always seems slightly odd the European habit of naming streets after military events. Maybe Canada’s history is just too low key. 11 Novenber wouldn’t make anyone think of the Battle of Crysler’s Field. And naming a street 13 September after the Battle on the Plains of Abraham (1759) just seems like bad taste, as well as unlikely to trigger recognition. Non, mon ami, wouldn’t think of it. Better to pick a military event with a non-Canadian enemy. How about the Battaille de Québec in 1775? Decisive victory against invading American Revolutionaries. But the date was December 31. Which for most of us is just New Year’s Eve. Better just go with Rue Reveillon. 

A little past the sub post office, at the end of Av 25 Abril, is the only outdoor escalator we’ve seen, providing a welcome lift up an extremely steep hill. It’s in two sections, and apparently its electrical innards survive the rain. Good views from the top.

Wednesday, November 14/2018

Seagull lands on the edge of our small balcony, surveying the world. Fairly long period of grooming himself (or herself - not good on seagull gender identification. J tries hand feeding it a piece of bread. Bird does take it after a little hesitation. Another couple of pieces and it loses interest. Bread is pretty dry after all. So J tries dipping the next bit in the olive oil from a small tin of tuna. Much more enthusiasm for this. Now hoping he doesn’t decide to walk into the flat. Can imagine the difficulty of evicting him, even assuming no complicating bird shit. Close door and bird leaves after a bit. Will we be on his permanent beat? 

Lots more seagulls gliding fairly noisily just offshore when we go down to the Arte Bar for a beer. Seem to have no particular purpose other than taking advantage of the strong breezes for the sheer pleasure of long glides. 

Late afternoon (Portugal on same time as UK) Theresa May emerges from 10 Downing Street to announce cabinet collective agreement on 500+ page draft agreement between the UK and the EU re Brexit terms. So, to our Twitter tribe for the take. They’re a motley crew, but include some excellent minds and qualifications. David Allen Green is one of the best - English lawyer, writer, and columnist on law and policy for the Financial Times. One of his first comments is that “collective agreement is most frequently used when someone is unable to say “unanimous agreement “. 

Yesterday Green referred to our having assumed all was well when the government hid behind secrecy in the earlier stages of negotiations, saying it needed to hold its cards close to the chest, when, as at every other stage the secrecy hid - nothing. Lovely quote from Thomas Cogley: “EU lays down a royal flush. UK looks at own cards: Mr Bun the Baker, Pikachu, a Shadowmage, a fireball spell, and the Fool”. 

Other fairly insider rumours have it that the cabinet is fairly deeply divided and the agreement was obtained by majority vote. Certainly cabinet members have agreed, willingly or otherwise, to a document they have not read. It’s 585 pages of legalese, and they were given it late last night to “prepare” for a two PM cabinet meeting. In one of the minor wonders of the cyber age, I now have a PDF copy of the full draft agreement stowed on my ipad, thanks to a Scottish MEP who provided the link. Not that I intend to read it all, but it’s there for reference.

Tuesday, November 13/2018

Weekly? trip to Lidl. Huge up and down hills that might well, but don’t, have the gradient posted. Hills like this, when we have no car, make me think of the bit from Isaiah, most memorable in Handel’s Messiah, “Every valley shall be exalted, and every mountain and hill shall be made low: and the crooked shall be made straight, and the rough places plain”. Passes almost unremarked probably, to the average modern reader or listener, as general apocalyptic enthusiasm, but it was written in the days of walkers, for whom a sudden levelling and straightening of the road would have been a very welcome miracle. 

The chief consideration coming back from Lidl is weight, ruling out anything easily obtainable nearer home for a similar price and anything very heavy. Well aged cheese, chocolate, and coffee are the main items on the list, but of course the list expands a bit once we’re here. Lidl’s own brand of gin €6 ($9 CAD, £5.22) for 70cl. The notable thing about Castelgy gin is that it’s won blind taste test awards in competition with significantly more expensive brand names, selling here, at least, for more than twice the price. Which leads to my two tins of tonic. I’m prepared to plead that I’d rather have them than the much heavier whole chicken, but the chicken, apparently, exists only in the flyer and not in the coolers, so no need to embarrass myself. 

The other interesting find is a small box labelled gin botanicals. Portuguese info only partly helpful, but happily a previous customer has already opened one of the boxes. Inside are four plastic pouches with writing in English - red pepper berries, black pepper berries, juniper berries, and cardamom seeds. Aha. This is almost the same as a small selection we found in the flat when we moved in. Three out of four overlap amd minor mystery solved. 

Monday, November 12/2018

Back to the old town. There’s some choice between steep hills and flights of stairs, but either way it’s a workout. We have a nominal errand involving finding the post office, which, fortunately, isn’t urgent, as we wander happily in the warren of streets and lanes without ever spotting it. Do come home with a better map, though, and a bit of advice from the nice lady at tourist info, so reasonable hopes for next time. The centre is unashamedly touristy, though fairly cheerful, and not high pressure. And it’s off-season. There are a few people on the long, sandy beach, though not many in the water. 

The cafés and bars seem full regardless of time of day. Prices have gone up a bit in the seven years since we were here last, but a large beer (roughly a pint) is between €2 and €3 ($3 to $4.50 CAD, £1.76 to £2.64). Not surprisingly, British tourists, who seem to be in the majority, find a pint or two in the midday sun irresistible. Stop briefly at a Spar grocery store. The sections are labelled in English as well as Portuguese. I’m taken with the area posted as Dried Groceries, though the description is fair enough - that’s where we find the dried lentils. Probably Canadian, though the packet doesn’t specify. Most green lentils, regardless of country, seem to originate in Canada. Certainly true in Cyprus. Also buy Maria biscuits labelled integrales - like the Italian for whole grain, a term I’m fairly good at recognising in various languages. 

On the way back we sit in the square and people watch. Mostly tourists, but a nearby bench has a heavy blanket heaped at one end, suggesting it is someone’s home. J spots the occupant coming out of the busy café across from us carrying an open but recorked wine bottle. He’s followed by a man from the café who brings him a foil plate full of food. There are colder - and probably less generous places to be homeless. Interesting, as we’re currently rereading Orwell’s Down and Out in Paris and London. Published in 1933, and things change, but the ability of homelessness to narrow consciousness to the next meal and somewhere safe to sleep must be constant.

Sunday, November 12/2018

Sunday brunch. And a nice little kitchen in the flat. Full cooker with oven - and amazingly no sign of ever having been used until we roasted a chicken in it Friday night. Full size fridge and a microwave. Would have designed things slightly differently - so that the light was over the stove rather than the drain board, but hey. 

Sitting on the sofa when there is a loud crack. Admittedly we could stand to lose weight, but that’s not the real problem. Investigation shows that the support slats are totally inadequate. Too thin, one previously mended rather uselessly with tape, and several missing. Fortunately they’re kept in place with a snap in arrangement that doesn’t require a tool kit, and even more fortunately the back of the sofa conceals a similar (and similarly depleted) set of slats from which to borrow. Won’t matter much unless or until the sofa is returned to its function as a double bed, in which case one occupant will be sleeping on the floor.

Saturday, November 10/2018

Walk along the waterfront, opposite the Arte Bar. The cemetery that J remembers us walking through last time is locked. A shame, as it would have been interesting. Do look over the wall, and between the bars on the gate. As well as the graves, there is a large block divided into glass fronted boxes. Perhaps about the right size for urns? Can’t get close enough to tell. The narrow walkway beside the graveyard entrance is flanked by a relatively loose arrangement of heavily eroded limestone rocks. A wall, but nothing like as compact a structure as a Scottish “dry stane dyke”. Oddly reminiscent of the skulls in an ancient monastic crypt.

Friday, November 9/2018

Wander down to our small opposite-the-cemetery supermarket. All right, it has a name - Intermarche. It’s on Rua Sir Cliff Richard, which is mildly intriguing. Turns out the singer has an estate as well as a vineyard near Albufeira. In fact, had we been here six months earlier we could have paid £22 each for the privilege of joining Sir Cliff for a singsong, with a bottle of his wine thrown in. We do buy a bottle of local Alentejo region wine and a few other groceries. (Educational note: J in Portuguese is pronounced pretty much as it is in French. Which, actually, I knew, due to Jose Mourinho, Manchester United manager, not being Ho-zay). Lovely sunny day, so we stop at the Arte Bar next to the supermarket for a beer. Sun on our backs, sea on our right, perfect.

¿

Thursday, November 8/2018

Trek of the day. Uphill, as is everything in Albufeira, to Lidl, our happy discovery of seven years ago. And yes, uphill both ways - though with some sections of down as well of course. A walk made somewhat longer by the route we took and a bit of temporary confusion (as in why is the ocean on our left when Lidl is northeast of us - if we keep on walking in this direction we’ll eventually hit the west coast). Embarrassingly, the map later shows the proper route as being slightly under a mile (though taking no account whatsoever of the hills) but what we actually did was significantly longer. Worth the climb for the German seeded rye bread and a lovely German mustard, but not everything better or cheaper. Ditto at Aldi, across the road and smaller, less well stocked. Think we’ll stick mostly to the Portuguese supermarkets nearer home.

Wednesday, November 6/2018

Lovely slow start. Coffee and the papers without having to hurry out - our idea of supreme luxury. And plenty of radio and online commentary on he mixed results of yesterday’s election.Toaster and coffee maker work - in fact everything new. J remembers the location of the little local supermarket from our stay only a block away seven and a half years ago. Near the cemetery, he says, and so it is. Down (and returning up) a hill as is everything in Albufeira, but not far away. 

Down to the old town in the afternoon. This was once a fishing village, but 40,000 inhabitants and millions of tourists later its a sprawl with a commercial core. Still, we are pretty near the old heart, and wander round the pubs and restaurants and handicraft sellers. There’s a long beach, almost empty in November, though it’s not cold. Maybe 18 degrees - a little warmer with the sun and a little cooler with the ocean breeze. Try, unsuccessfully to locate a little restaurant we ate at in 2011. When we get home  I look it up in the blog of the day to get the name. Then check the online reviews. They’re horrific, one probably qualifying as the worst I’ve read:

** “My sons and I went into this restaurant and sat down and ordered 3 meals and 3 drinks.The waiter that took the order seemed fine but there was a very bad atmosphere in the restaurant. All the staff seemed unhappy and frightened of the head chef who was shouting at the waiters..the whole kitchen is in view of the customers. There were a lot of customers that seemed unhappy due to wrong orders and waiting some considerable time. We looked on and the head chef had a full blown row with a waiter..the waiter picked an empty plate up and rubbed his hand all over it gesturing how the customer wanted the meal. To my surprise the plate went back on top of the plate pile for the next customer. We drank our drinks slowly and watched on...bread and olives and spreads were brought to us which we did not order and asked for them to be taken back but they were left there. Whilst this was going on the head chef put 3 meals on top of the counter and rang the bell...they sat there for 5 minutes..when the waiter came the head chef was shouting again and spit was coming out of his mouth and going on the food. The head chef then stormed out of the restaurant and stoof outside smoking a cigarette he had just hand rolled. In the meantime we watched a worker in the kitchen drop an item of food she was preparing and pick it up and put it back on a preperation plate. We were now getting worried. We watched the head chef come back in from his ciggy break..he did not wash his hands and carried on plating up meals and shouting. We then tried to cancel our order and pay for our drinks. After 10 minutes of explaining about hygene and good customer service we were allowed to go after we paid for drinks and bread/spreads we did not eat...this place would qualify for Ramseys kitchen nightmares.”**

Happy to have enjoyed spaghetti at home tonight. And sorry for the downhill plunge of a restaurant we once liked.

Tuesday, November 6/2018

British Air flight to Faro. BA not what it was, although the plane itself is not as dilapidated as many of the old ones were. Discounter service, though. Bring your own sandwiches (as we do) or buy M&S ones at slightly more than store prices. Ditto drinks. Did hear the stewardess offer to bring the man behind us a glass of tap water - from what tap? - but maybe he offered to pass out. 

Shuttle bus driver is summoned by the agent when we reach the Greenbus agent’s desk, and we’re the only passengers, so pretty well a private service. Large sign facing us in the back seat calls our attention to the fact that our fare did not include tips. Contrary to the information online, but, to be fair, considering we paid the Spanish company £12 for door to door service on a 27 km trip, it’s hard to see how it could have done, so no objection from us. Delighted to find that our UK sim in the old Nokia works perfectly and the charge from the UK provider is the same anywhere in the EU. And after Brexit? 

Déborah turns up in response to my phone call and lets us in the flat. One bedroom, and a kitchen cum sitting room with balcony. Newly equipped, tile floors, good wifi - we’re happy. A bottle of local wine and biscuits waiting for us on the table, so we grill some cheese sandwiches for supper and call it a night. (Comfortable double bed).

Monday, November 5/2018

Pret A Manger for coffee and final internet info needed for boarding, check in and arrival tomorrow. A young Chinese woman sitting next to me says “Your election is tomorrow”. Not mine, I tell her - but yes. There follows a rather long conversation about US politics, Brexit, and many etceteras. Her basic position, which she admits is very Chinese, is that harmony is more important than correctness. Or justice? But she doesn’t seem to understand the point of the AA’s mantra re accepting the things that cannot be changed, changing the things that can and having the wisdom to know the differe. She voted Remain but thinks that harmony is in accepting the fait accomplis. Was it best to accept Hitler in pre-war Nazi Germany? No answer. In any case, she says, Trump is too old to think differently. No older than I am, I tell her. Not an excuse. 

Our last day in London and final errands. Mild weather for Guy Fawkes Day, though many have actually celebrated it on the weekend. Grilled salmon at Roses - one of the things they do best. Were going to make a quick stop at Aldi, but the queues are insane enough for us to decide we don’t need anything very badly. Chinese puzzle exercise of fitting everything into the suitcases. Everything packed tonight, but no need for middle of the night alarm.

Sunday, November 4/2018

Up before dawn for the annual London to Brighton Veteran Car Run. There are over 400 cars, all pre 1905 and little as we like the 6 AM alarm, by the time we reach Bayswater Road we can feel the excitement. Some owners have stayed at nearby hotels and will drive the short distance to the Hyde Park starting point. We can hear the cars before we see them in the semi-dark, many with the put-put of one or two cylinders and some so old they don’t possess running lights. A little dangerous along a main road, but it’s pretty early on a Sunday for general traffic, and the buses and taxis will be aware of the rally. The pre-dawn sky is streaked with coral, reflected in the calm water of the Serpentine where swans and ducks are swimming. 


The cars are still lining up as we arrive, with the oldest (1896) starting first - it’s not a race, and any car completing the journey in four hours is deemed to have had a successful run. No two cars alike, some with well known names, like Oldsmobile or Renault, and others made by firms long since disappeared. A number are so basic they raise the question of what the criteria are for qualifying as an automobile - barely more than a rectangle of wood with a steering lever and no transmission. But there are four cylinder cars, steam powered cars, even a man riding an old penny farthing bicycle, though no pretence that that is a car. Some hold only the driver, or may have one passenger seated behind- or in some cases in front of - the driver. Wicker baskets, wooden trunks, or holders for bouquets of flowers are often attached to the rear, a clue to the North American use of “trunk” for what the British would term the boot. A purist might prefer the cars in (presumably original) black, but those sporting shiny red blue and yellow paint are pretty cheerful. As are the drivers and passengers in period costume. Not cold today, which is good, because few of the cars offer much protection. The first car leaves at 6:59, and it takes about an hour to get them all underway. And this year they all succeed in getting started, albeit with a little last minute hand cranking, so no disappointed drivers unable to take part after bringing their vintage vehicles from as far away as Australia.

Saturday, November 3/2018

Breakfast with J&D. Laura comes by later with Cody, who has just been to gymnastics. He’s quiet at first, but warms up quickly and examines a key I have unaccountably found in my handbag. Suspect myself of kleptomania, but think it must have been with a couple of items left in our hotel room Turns out, oddly enough (as Jenny discovers via google) to be the key for a trigger lock on a gun. Some joking over who stayed last in the hotel room - terrorist, MI5? - and my odds at security at Gatwick. 

Take advantage of the wifi to book the shuttle from Faro to Albufeira on Tuesday. The site refuses to complete the booking without mobile number, so I provide the one for the UK sim, but have no real certainty that either it or the Cypriot one will work in Portugal. Yes, they should. Doug kindly prints the transfer voucher, which “they” insist must be not merely downloaded but both printed and signed, presumably to prevent imposters taking our place on the bus, though see no way of their authenticating the signature. 

Lentil  soup and baguettes for lunch and then home.

Friday, November 2/2018

To Thames Ditton in the afternoon to visit Jenny and Doug and the family. Emma and her girls are already there full of energy and information. Then Giles, who is setting up to do the lighting for the Guy Fawkes fireworks evening at the girls’ school. After they leave, drinks and dinner and lots of catch up chat.  Some of our very favourite people to visit with. And relaxed, because we stay the night, so no need to hurry with the meal or be off to catch the train.

Thursday, November 1/2018

Rainy morning, but we have umbrellas. Coming back from coffee cum internet at Pret A Manger J leans over someone dossed down in a sleeping bag on wet pavement. Rough sleepers in this part of the city is a pretty recent phenomenon, though the tunnels leading to Charing Cross Station have always had an unhappy blend of homeless sleepers bedded on newspapers with the smell of piss. New also are notices posted on many shop windows stating that begging is illegal, that asking for money is punishable by fine. No doubt a nuisance for shop owners and a deterrent to  their customers. It hasn’t prevented people from sitting on the pavement with collecting cups and signs announcing their hunger or need, the distinction perhaps being that it is illegal to solicit donations but not to accept them from generous passers by. 

To West Harrow in the afternoon to visit Jean and share a bottle of wine and samosas. Jean is waiting for back surgery, probably after Christmas, for a congenital problem, but seems pretty cheerful about it. 

Wednesday, October 31/2018

Wednesday, October 31. Hallowe’en, and there are a few goblins and such on the street, though Guy Fawkes Day, November 5th, commemorating the 1605 plot to blow up parliament - also known as bonfire night - is traditionally the more important celebration, as an occasion for fireworks. Take a bus up to Camden Town. Much less change along Camden High Street than on Queensway. Still a mix of pubs, pound stores, cafés, charity shops, and similar. Good street for buying toiletries, batter, and such. Once the home of Inverness Street market and corner barrows, but fruit and veg sellers seem to be dying off around here, though there is an M&S, and a Sainsbury’s just off the main street, and an empty shop displays a sign announcing that it will soon be an Aldi.

Tuesday, 30 October, 2018

Pret a Manger for coffee. A little farther than Starbucks and coffee less potent, but large, cheerful, and with good wifi. Suspect it’s picking up a few of Starbucks’ walking wounded. There’s one young woman with her head down on the table and two shopping bags full of the essentials of survival. But mostly it’s cheerful bustle. 

Do  google the Samsung difficulty and conclude, as eventually suspected, that it’s a North American model that won’t work elsewhere. A fairly common problem with phones other than iPhones (5 and later). Lucky the old Nokia still works. 

Up to Kilburn High Road, which, happily, has changed much less. In fact is rather like Queensway used to be twenty-five years ago. Chain stores, yes, but tiny independents, pawn shops, supermarkets, local cafés, pubs, and fruit and vegetable stands as well as a small market. Originally an Irish area, successive waves of West Indian and Asian immigrants have made it a vibrant, mixed community, with the latest influx seemingly Middle East. Stops at Poundland and Aldi’s, and then an early fish and chip supper at Roses, home of the best cod we‘ve ever eaten. The owner always remembers us, rather surprisingly as there are months between visits. And we recognise at least one of the “other regulars”.

Monday, 29 October 2018

Overnight flight from Winnipeg via Montreal. Roughly over Kilkenny, we get what passes for breakfast. Slice of dark, sweet bread - banana? And Juice. Too bumpy for coffee. Remember previous years when it used to be a large ice cold muffin. But that was a significant come down from years ago with fruit and - what? Hot breakfast before that - or am I remembering BA, which did a pretty fair full English in the days before they decided London to Cyprus, though fractionally shorter than London to Cairo, was not long haul, and didn’t require sustenance? What next? Would straight bread and water shame them - we’re nearly there.

Twenty minutes in the queue at Immigration at Heathrow. Post-Brexit will all except Brits be in the Liberians and others line? Then tube to Bayswater. But changes are in the brickwork as well as the air. We’re too early for the hotel but still have money on the Starbucks card. Queensway Starbucks another matter. Undergoing renovation and closed. Looks major. So a coffee at Macdonald’s across the road. Coffee not bad but atmosphere no hell and can’t make the wifi work. So define ourselves as on time for Barons. Which turns out to be completely surrounded by scaffolding. But still operational, fortunately. Major roof repairs, but our usual room, and if we keep the curtains closed the workmen won’t be looking in. So not up for sale anyway. Last surprise of the day is that Whitely’s - grand old lady of department stores (dating from 1911) now turned little mall - is undergoing transformation once again., as part of a major upscaling of Queensway. All business will cease as of November 30, and Marks and Spencer is already gone. Nothing stays the same forever. And finally the sim card I buy for the Samsung doesn’t work, despite the efforts of the girls at 3. I assure them the phone is unlocked and they kindly agree to retemplate  the new sim to micro size so that it will fit in the old Nokia, and not be a waste. 

Since you’re here....It’s just about time to wind up the blog for the season. I usually run it right to the last day in London. 

However, there is a difficulty. One of my readers has reported going to the blog site and finding a virus or similar. Cleaned up by virus protection program, but obviously undesirable. I’m not in a good position to investigate thoroughly, having only coffee shop access to wifi at the moment. And don’t actually know how to investigate it thoroughly later, for that matter. 

Blogger/blogspot is a free site hosted by google - not a company known for answering individual inquiries. If I read a relevant forum answer correctly, the site itself can’t be virus infected, and all I do is add individual posts to an existing format. 

I am using an antiquated ios app called Blogger. It is no longer supported, and in fact only works on the oldest of our three ipad minis - the ipad mini 1, which is too old to be updated.  It was a very handy app as it allowed me to prepare blog entries offline ready for instant posting at connection and also allowed me, as the website does not, to post photos directly from my ipad album. 

But that was handy, not indispensible. If that is the problem, it’s posted its last. If the blogspot website is itself the problem, I’ll have to find an alternative. Unfortunately, easier said than done. Most sites either have rather limited storage or are not genuinely free - or both. 

If you have experienced problems accessing the blog, my profound apologies - and I’d really like to know what the difficulty was. And if you haven’t that would be useful to know as well. Apart from that, any helpful suggestions welcome. I’m no techie, and it’s difficult even to know what angle to approach this from. Would be grateful to hear from you. Cheers 🍷🍷

Thursday, April 12/2018

Former Chancellor George Osborne, never my favourite Tory - and yes, I do have some - was not Theresa May's favourite either, and got promptly moved to the back bench in the new regime. As did Michael Gove, of course, but he crawled back as rapidly as possible. George had other options - no point in being an old Etonian if it doesn't leave you with friends - and resigned in order to become editor of the Evening Standard. Somewhat short of a quality paper, but a cut above the tabloids and pretty widely read in greater London because it's free and an obvious choice to read on the way home. And it does allow George the odd bit of revenge. Thus the headline today, in enormous black capitals,  is 'War-War And Not Jaw-Jaw', inescapably recalling that Churchill - the epitome of a strong Conservative prime minister - had famously said 'jaw jaw is better than war war'. Yes, rhymes better with a non-rhotic accent.

Wednesday, April 11/2018

Bizarrely, BBC's compromise with reality is to refer to 'alleged Assad chemical attack' while discussing the probability of a very physical military response. Though what's a PM to do? Theresa May had referred to the Salisbury attack as involving a 'weapon of mass destruction' but with the Skripals apparently recovering from the deadly nerve agent - a microdot to kill? - public interest apparently flagging slightly. The Syrian chemicals somewhat more complex. The white helmets scarcely disinterested accusers but almost worse is the difficulty, referred to as discreetly as possible by the BBC, of co-ordinating retaliation with Trump, whose tactics change with every tweet. More hand holding in order? But when has anyone last mentioned Brexit?

Tuesday, April 10/2018

Some readjustment of our means of satisfying our news addiction. There was a time when I bought at least one paper a day in London and went home with an armload of same day papers from the most vulgar tabloid to the most sober broadsheet. Remember a student asking if the British were allowed to put porn in their newspapers. Porn proved, on investigation, to be a page three girl wearing, admittedly, not very much. Student less shocked by the photo than by my saying 'I don't really think that's porn, do you?'. 

Now we seldom buy a paper, opting instead for a selection of downloaded articles. A Sunday Times is moderately expensive (£2.75, i.e. €3.15, $4.94 CAD) and, more to the point, contains massive amounts of material - on the housing market for example - that we have neither the time nor the interest to read. This involves a fair bit of skim and download during morning Starbucks sessions but gives a broader range of viewpoints and only articles of interest. And even more selectivity with those articles recommended by a tribe of trusted Twitter posters. An excellent referral system. 

Miss the twenty-four hour wifi access, but there is the compensatory better tv and radio news. And a sort of feeling that London is a hub of news, although rather cynical about how that works. May is not Thatcher and Russia is not the Falklands, but difficult for her to dismiss a gift poisoning. Continuing reminders of the book Events, Dear Boy, a compilation of British diaries of those in power or near to it throughout the twentieth century. The overwhelming, if not entirely deliberate, message was that those one would suppose had inside knowledge, if not wisdom, frequently had highly limited understanding of events and their context and looked at the world through a flawed prism of ideological bias and - worse - ego. Well, nobody thought Blair's invasion of Iraq was unique. But interestingly the lessons of the Iraq war have not only failed to chasten Theresa May, they haven't done much to persuade the general public to half the degree of cynicism I was born with.

Monday, April 9/2018

Starbucks office seems a bit unbusy. Very good in terms of getting a seat in the quiet lower level, but a little worrying with regard to its continuing existence. Just too many coffee shops in the area? UK coffee shops expected to outnumber pubs in the near future. The HSBC bank across the road closed over a year ago and the building is still empty. On the whole the street has gone upscale considerably in the nearly thirty years we've been coming here. Which sounds positive, but it's lost much of its character, and more of the shops and restaurants are now chains. Well, there's Starbucks.

Sunday, April 8/2018

Two hour time change has me awake at 5:30. No wifi here, but tablets well stocked with reading material. TV does supply radio, but 5:30 does seem a little early to inflict it on other rooms. 

Back to Starbucks office. Not raining - more heavy mist - though it has rained in the night and there's a brooding darkness to the sky. So perhaps not the day for the Sunday morning paintings displayed along the railings along the Bayswater Road adjacent to Hyde Park. Home in time to watch Dateline London. Then checking out our neighbourhood. Always some small changes. The waffle shop must be new, surely. Fish and chip place never seems very busy, but perhaps they rely on takeaway. They say you can eat in, but that seems to be three or four chilly looking minimalist tables by the order counter. Whitely's, famous for closing down sales has a large sign advertising a GENUINE closing down sale. And maybe it's true, as a couple more shops there seem to be empty. Marks and Spencer and Costa Coffee now seem to be the mainstays. M&S happily not quite out of hot cross buns - my favourite of the supermarket ones. 

Watch telly in the evening. First English tv we've has in months other than Cyprus broadcasting' ten minute English news and bits of streaming on occasion. Plenty of channels, but a few of the basics seem to be missing, most sadly Channel 4, which carries better news than BBC. Watch what I take to be the first hour of a film from the 40's on Talking Movies, only to find that it's an episode in a serial. Reminded of getting family Christmas parcels from Scotland as a small child. They usually included two or three Scottish comic books, made up of a number of different comics, some of which were serials, so I'd read the second and third in the lot, having been hooked by the first, knowing I'd be left hanging and never know the ending. If indeed there was an ending and they weren't like Orphan Annie, going on forever.

Saturday, April 7/2018

Bill and Jane kindly take us to the airport. We're early but our organisation is superior to that of Cobalt, the Cypriot airline we're flying with. No, can't check in for Heathrow flight until 10:25; we're checking in for Manchester now. And we realise that they're not set up technically to check people in for more than one flight at a time. In fact for about ten minutes preceding 10:25 three rather bored looking clerks sit at the desks  doing absolutely nothing, hands on chins. Then brief meeting with a young man, shuffle of papers, and desks open for Heathrow flight. Non-EU queue already longer and slower than EU queue at immigration. Will be interesting post-Brexit. Forget to take small plastic bag of liquids out of carry-on bag at security, but they, being busy with other concerns like removal of shoes and belts, appear not to notice. 

Larnaca airport notorious for exorbitant food and drink prices - even by airport standards. Cheapest bottle of water €2.50 ($3.88 CAD, £2.19). On board, water is €2. Have to admit that if plane tickets had been two or three euros more we'd have paid it without thinking twice, but there is something essentially wrong about ripping people off for water. And many airports now do supply free tap or fountain water. Here the lavatory taps - as often in Canada - supply hot water. However, our departure lounge turns out to be in the basement and the tiny loo next to the lift turns out to have a normal old-fashioned tap with hot and cold water. No non-potable warning, so our water bottles filled, contributing to neither corporate greed nor plastic environmental tsunami. 

Plane fairly full, and we have, as requested, aisle seats opposite each other. No one occupying the middle seat next to me, so I trade with J. Five hour flight to Heathrow Terminal 3. Fairly warm, though well short of the Cypriot sun we left behind. High teens. 

Tube to Bayswater. Greeted at the hotel by Genie and Nick with the sad news that G's mother died on Thursday. After a very short illness. She was ninety-three but had been mentally in good shape and mobile, if not in perfect physical health. G very distressed and, of course, funeral plans and all the practicalities still to deal with. 

Friday, April 6/2018

Rather strange. Good Friday here, so fortunately bread and pitas collected yesterday, more by good luck than good management. Finish packing, which involves leaving less than previously but more than we'd hoped boxed and labelled here - radio, CDs, a few clothes, two pots, a few glasses, the cafetière, an extension cord, a couple of books. And etcetera. Not too bad considering we've spent parts of the winter in Cyprus for eighteen years now. After the boxes have been stashed, everything else has to go in the suitcases (20k limit tomorrow) or the carry-ons, or be thrown out. Not sure organisational skills are improving much with age. Jane and Bill pop in for coffee and, happily, take a few books with them. Fair bit of overlap in taste.

Thursday, April 5/2018

Two conference pears, 500 grams of strawberries grown in greenhouses in a village a little to the north of us, one red pepper, a few small onions, a few tiny new potatoes, a few cherry tomatoes. It's hard not to overbuy here, but we've reached the point of not buying any food now without knowing which meal it is slated for. We're going to miss the variety of super fresh (and inexpensive) fruit and veg.

Last meal out with friends. Rather appropriate timing on a last supper, as tomorrow is Orthodox Good Friday. With Jane, Bill, Ailsa, Harry, and Maureen to the Ocean Basket. Prawns and mussels are surprisingly good. Shouldn't be surprised, but shrimp that have been frozen - which is most of them - often disappointingly tasteless. But beautifully buttery. The place is very busy, with quite a few families. Noisy but cheerful. 

Wednesday, April 4/2018

Two conference pears, 500 grams of strawberries grown in greenhouses in a village a little to the north of us, one red pepper, a few small onions, a few tiny new potatoes, a few cherry tomatoes. It's hard not to overbuy here, but we've reached the point of not buying any food now without knowing which meal it is slated for. We're going to miss the variety of super fresh (and inexpensive) fruit and veg.

Tuesday, April 3/2018

J with Harry in the jeep to collect a sofa bed from Bill,s attic and transfer it to the loft in Harry's cabin. I, coming back from post office, miss a call. Can never hear the mobile in traffic. Eventually suspect it may be from the bus company - certainly from a Larnaca landline. So call, and phone answered to immense background noise, suggesting pretty accurately several fairly loud men of the sort who do not habitually lower their voices just because someone in their small room has just answered the phone. So who have I reached? Just barely catch one word relating to bus company. Eventually some heavily accented and fairly incoherent references to hat. Was mine a man's or woman's. Relatively gender neutral shapeless cotton sunhat, but our combined communication skills are failing us, what with vocabulary, accents, and background uproar. I say I'll come down and look, and do. And indeed there is a hat, found on the 425 bus on April 1, but it's a baseball cap with team logo. Right bus, right day, even right colour - but wrong hat. Thanks anyway. Actually had had no expectation at all of their attempting to reconnect me with the hat.

Monday, April 2/2018

Plastic bags - or a lot of them anyway - to the animal shelter charity shop. Free plastic bags are being phased out in Cyprus. Should now be 2 cents and 5 cents by summer, but no supermarket wishes to be the first to experience the wrath of its customers so they're still free and accumulating, despite our fabric bags. But the charity shop can use them. 

Stop at the bus station on my way to inquire about the hat I left on the bus yesterday. Hadn't been optimistic about recovery but the level of dysfunction here is ridiculous - and actually funny. Yes, I know which bus number (425) and which road and which direction the bus was going. And yes, I also know the time - quite precisely in fact. (And yes, with all this personal precision one would have assumed I could have managed not to drop my hat). Consultation  between two of the three men in the little bus station office. Followed by much shuffling of paper. And two telephone calls, also in Greek, of which I understand only the word "oxi" - no. Slowly I realise that my man has been searching for the phone numbers of the drivers most likely to have been on the 425 at 12:45 yesterday. There is no lost and found box, there is no end of shift procedure, there is no assured way of identifying vehicle or driver. Any sixteen year old girl could have set them up in a day with a better system than they have been able to devise over the past several years. He does, kindly, ask for my phone number - in case - and I give it, but have clearly seen the last of the hat. 

Stop at the little jewellery shop owned by the jeweller, Natalia, our Ukrainian friend, and meet up with J who's been on his own errands. Always a lovely place to visit. And she points us, after a discussion on Slavic food, to a tiny café recently opened by a Georgian girl and serving Georgian fast - and not so fast - foods. Not very different from Ukrainian. So we find it and go for coffee and try a couple of her small deep fried "pies" - one mushroom and one potato. Comfort food rather than health food, but nice. The café is called Titanic. Hope it doesn't go under.

Sunday, April 1/2018

Easter Sunday, but not for Cypriots, and in fact the Catholic Church in Cyprus follows the Greek Orthodox calendar out of consideration for local customs and mixed families. Last Sunday lunch out, this time at Cambanella's, our default. Then coffee on Jane and Bill's patio. Too hot in the direct sun so awning down. Flowers and tomato plants now convinced it's spring, if not summer.

Cyprus Sunday Mail has a nearly full page article on small diameter particulate matter in the air - dust. The nearly full page not quite as dramatic as it seems as the slim edition is always looking for fill - and running to repetition. Interesting though. Confirms our understanding that the source is mostly the Sahara, not, as widespread rumour apparently has it, the war in Syria. Hadn't heard the rumour and wouldn't have believed it in any case for a number of reasons, chief among which is that Syria, while close, is to the east of us, whereas the prevailing winds, as in other places, are from the west. The next question, as J had wondered, is whether excessive dust events are becoming more frequent. The answer is mostly negative. They are tending to last longer, and desertification is a factor, but the main change is in the frequency and detail of information being given to the public. In other words it used to be this bad but we didn't know it. Unfortunately, while ignorance may feel like bliss the minute particles (and they really are minute at under a hundredth of a millimetre) are not filtered out easily, ending up deep in the lungs and, furthermore being associated with higher incidence of heart disease. As a bonus, the particles can carry bacteria. Very cheerful. 

Friday, March 30/2018

                 Harry's cabin - Jaworski file photo

Good Friday in the Western Church, but not here, where the Julian calendar is - this year but not always - celebrating Easter a week later. Thus we leave Cyprus before Orthodox Easter but arrive in London after Catholic Easter. 

J out with Harry to Harry's little cabin, beautifully crafted in Finland and a continuing well loved (by Harry, not so much Ailsa) work in progress. Today they're painting. And, J reports, feeding cats, which come from all directions when H arrives, knowing the tender hearted rescuer will have a meal for them. And they're right - he keeps cat food in the cabin.

Thursday, March 29/2018

To the Blacksmith Restaurant in the evening with Bill and Jane and Harry and Ailsa. Their meze is excellent and the place is humming full. Fourteen dishes, including a deep fried halloumi with a subtlehoney coating, much nicer than that may sound. As always, far too much to eat, but that's never quite so guilt inducing with H and A, who always come equipped with plastic bags for the leftovers for their many rescue animals. Mild outside as we leave, and the candle shaped light arrangements over the streets seem to go well with Easter - except that they must be, as the red bows suggest, still lighting the town centre as they did at Christmas.

Wednesday, March 28/20018

Maggi over to show us her photos from recent Sri Lankan trip. And full of stories, from wonderful Sri Lankan guide to visit with Sama, who was her friend here in Cyprus when she was working as a maid. Incredibly sad story. Sama worked here for years, underpaid and poorly treated, sending all she made home to Sri Lanka to her mother and husband who were raising her now teenage daughter. Not an uncommon scenario for Filipina and Sri Lankan women here. When she finally got to quit her job and return, her husband was killed almost immediately in a road accident and her mother died shortly afterward following surgery. And Sama with virtually no pension and not much desire to live. So a very mixed trip for M. But many pix, enough actually that her laptop runs out of battery, so to be continued on Saturday.

Tuesday, March 27/2018

Missing child described in police bulletin as white, male, 4" tall. Fortunately found by the time I see Facebook requests to be on the lookout, as first involuntary response is that 4 inch high boy might be difficult to spot.

Monday, March 26/2018

Cyprus Mail notes that Cyprus, unlike most of the western world, is not expelling its Russian diplomats.  Not astonishing, considering that Cyprus has benefitted financially from a very close relationship with Russia. As indeed has the UK, which is playing a more contortionist game - expelling the diplomats, keeping the oligarchs, and trying to ignore the money laundering.

Sunday, March 25/2018

Today is a national holiday, but not one that transfers to the Monday when it falls on a Sunday.  So are the supermarkets open? Low on bread, though not urgent. I phone Sklavenites, the nearest to inquire - one of those silly situations where their answering the phone is itself the answer to the question, which must be asked anyway because hanging up on someone is rude. Yes, they're open. But we opt not to go anyway because of horrific levels of dust in the air, fine particulate matter blowing in from the Sahara. It's been a frequent problem this winter, and clearly - or rather unclearly - not one the government can do anything about. The matter is so fine that face masks don't prevent inhalation, not that we're tempted, and it can be a significant cause of cardiopulmonary damage. We can check pollution levels on a site that gives hourly readings for Larnaca - and plenty of other world cities if we want to see how much cleaner the air is in London or see how much we resemble Beijing. Actually quite a handy site as looking out the window is an indicator but not a very precise one.

Saturday, March 24/2018

Take the bus out to th British base at Dekhelia to meet up with Bill and Jane. The restaurant there is known for its fish and chips. Fish must surely be frozen, but beautifully flaky and light, crisp batter. Then back to B&J's to watch the last of The Crown. And wonder as before. Events obviously right - but what about the slant? Was Philip that petulant? The Queen Mother that manipulative? Clementine Churchill was indeed responsible for burning Graham Sutherland's portrait of her husband, which wasn't actually hers to burn. We're old enough collectively to remember some bits and Joe and Bill good enough on the history, e.g. Suez crisis, to watch with a critical eye. Makes for Google as you go viewing.

Friday, March 23/2018

News today which really shouldn't have to be news at all. From the Cyprus Mail:

"Police in the British base in Dhekelia on Friday said they have dealt a blow to bird trappers and highlighted their commitment to stamping out poaching by destroying a large number of mist nets and bird imitating devices, all seized from bird trappers over the past year. In addition, more than 60 kilometres of illegal irrigation pipes were used to support the illegal trapping of songbirds have also been removed."

Trapping, often with illegal nets or by using glue that makes them stick to a surface, of songbirds is very common, though illegal, in Cyprus. More enthusiasm for combatting it in the British base area than in the rest of the country. Animal welfare not apparently a cultural priority historically, and charity shops that support animal rescue almost invariably run by Brits. There is, of course, a market for these birds, equally illegal obviously. They are considered a delicacy and some restaurants as well as individuals are happy to serve them surreptitiously to interested customers.

Thursday, March 22/2018

Last trip (this year) to Famagusta market. Always a sensual pleasure. Colours, shapes, scents - tastes if you wish. Most of the produce is local, but nuts from as far away as California and some of the bananas from South America. 

Cabbages so enormous it's easy to see how the tales of babies being found under cabbage leaves began. Quite a lot of flowers and bedding plants. Clothing and dry goods as well, some of it surprisingly inexpensive. 

The Turkish lira has dropped nearly 22% against the euro over the past year, making life very difficult for Northern Cypriots, especially since many major purchases, such as cars, require hard currency. Nevertheless, we do notice that, despite sanctions, there are more late model cars and new buildings than there were seventeen years ago when we first came here. And quite a lot of trading seems to be taking place with Europe, Asia and the Americas. Through Turkey? 

Lunch at Minder, the little restaurant with village style home cooking, only steps away from the back of the market. There is a sheet of daily specials, but the owner also lifts the lids of the metal tubs to show us the possibilities. The most interesting are artichokes, with what seems to be rings of minced stuffing between the leaves. The effect is rather pretty, actually, but artichoke leaves are not nearly as nice as the (ridiculously labour intensive) sautéed hearts that J does occasionally. Settle for meatballs that remind me of ones J's mother used to make. Lovely meal.

Wednesday, March 21/2018

Jane and Bill here for noon meal. They frequently have their main meal of the day at midday. Suspect it may be connected with aging, as we've known others to adopt the practice. Not denial that prevents me. It's just that having breakfast after coffee and the digital newspapers and second cup can mean it's ten o'clock. Hurrying to make the main meal for noon seems onerous - and slightly ridiculous. And works rather poorly with any meal that requires more than two hours prep and cooking time. But a good idea for today as they need to be in Larnaca anyway. Borscht, salmon fillets, and fresh strawberries with ice cream. Can't imagine why we don't have borscht more often here. Almost all veg extremely cheap and beets can be bought vacuum, four to a pack, already peeled and boiled. J does point out, fairly enough, that the flavour is better if the beets are cooked in the soup rather than precooked. He's right but there's none of the caught red handed bit this way. Very clean.

Tuesday, March 20/2018

First day of spring and also, apparently, International Happiness Day. The Cyprus Mail captions it oddly, saying that Cyprus is the 61st happiest country. Could be worse; that is in the top half, but that's not how they put it. The annual index ranks countries on happiness with income, healthy life expectancy, social support, freedom, trust, and generosity as the variables. Like all countries Cyprus looks first at itself and then at its significant others, citing Greece at 79th and Turkey at 74th, as well as Russia 59th, Israel 11th, US 18th and the UK 19th. Then the stinger, in a paragraph all to itself: "The report also includes the north of Cyprus which held 58th position".

Monday, March 19/2018

Meet J down at the waterfront. It's 25 degrees today, warmer than I like it, though I know better than to say that to anyone in Canada - or in UK during this repeat cold spell. And indeed can see how soon we'll be missing Cyprus's warmth. Though the thing is that official temperatures are in the shade, of course, which leaves it quite a bit hotter than that in the sun. But Harry's has its umbrellas up and we do have our coffee in the shade. Quite a few tourists around now and umbrellas up on the beach. Tourists in shorts but locals certainly not, and in fact often wearing two sweaters or hooded jackets. Something we've always wondered about. Understandable that people from different parts of the world learn to feel comfortable at different temperatures, but surely some physical phenomena are standard, like the temperature at which people perspire. One of life's mysteries. 

As we're having coffee J spots the bird lady across the road. She's often seen in the centre of town wearing long black skirts and sitting or walking with several birds on her head and shoulders. People do take photos, but it's not at all clear that posing for them, and perhaps accepting contributions, is her main motivation. Certainly she's never aggressive about approaching anyone. We stop at the cancer patients charity shop to donate a set of Greek coffee cups (cups are Cypriot but coffee in them would be Greek - or Turkish - same coffee with nomenclature varying politically). Simply too heavy to consider taking back with us. 

Cut across the courtyard in front of St Lazarus Church, festooned with pendants and flags - Greek, Cypriot, and the black two-headed eagle on gold background representing the "Ecumenical Patriarchate of Constantinople", in other words the Greek Orthodox Church. By the wall a woman is painting St Lazarus, often the subject of photographs as well.

Sunday, March 18/2018

Sunday lunch at Jane and Bill's today. Bill has produced a terrine - chicken, bacon and sausage meat  this time, and nicer, actually than the rabbit one. Lovely to look at too. Can see that the horrible stick-your-finger-through-it bacon at home would do it no favours but wouldn't mind giving it a try. Can't be only old age and failing memory that makes us think side bacon used to be better. Certainly less water infused. And there's no doubt that streaky bacon here and in the UK is much leaner than what we get at home. 

Watch the next bit of The Crown on Netflix, taking us up to the coronation and the breaking up of the relationship between Princess Margaret and Peter Townsend. Can remember watching the coronation on Uncle John's TV, long before we had a set. Not, of course, in colour. And not live either. No satellite transmission, but the video specially flown out to Canada immediately after the ceremony.