Thursday, April 30/2026

 A serendipitous afternoon. The original plan was to go down to the Saatchi Gallery, one of our favourites, but as with any plan involving the London Underground, changes can happen. Jubilee line to Westminster fine but the Central line going west clearly in difficulty. Eventually struggle one stop on to St James’s Park, but it transpires that the problem is a fire on the tracks at Kensington High Street so we bail out.

Lovely sunny day as we walk down to Parliament Square. Lots of sightseers including a large group of Muslim schoolchildren, aged about eight or nine. A passing pedicab decorated with hearts asks if we want to hop on. Do we actually look like tourists I ask J. But of course we do - who but tourists would be taking leisurely strolls round the Houses of Parliament and Westminster Abbey on a sunny afternoon. 

J points out the bronze statue of Churchill wearing a naval greatcoat and leaning on his walking stick. The sculptor was Ivor Roberts-Jones and the image was based on a photograph of Churchill inspecting the bombed out chamber of the House of Commons in May 1941.

Think it’s the first time we’ve actually looked at Big Ben since its renovation was completed in 2022, though we’ve been in London many times since. It really sparkles - and so it should after £80 million ($147,835,460 CAD) worth of cleaning and repairs.

Wednesday, April 29/2026

 

Stroll along the South Bank looking across the Thames. Meet up with Jenny, who has come in from Thames Ditton, at the Tate Modern. No current exhibition at the multi storey turbine hall, where we’ve seen a couple of brilliant ones. 

Stop briefly at the Draw room where children are creating pictures on screens. They’re then able to save a printout or put it on a T-shirt. Looks like fun and they don’t actually post a permissible age range, but we suspect it doesn’t include us.

But we’re actually here to chat rather than view, so meet up in the ground floor café. And wait out a few late lunchers to nab a corner sofa by a window.

Part company at Waterloo Station and take the underground back to Kilburn, where we pay our annual visit to Roses café, now renamed bistro (as the ham and egg breakfasts graduate to eggs benedict and avocado). Lamb kleftiko still excellent though. And plentiful enough we bring at least half of it home.

Tuesday, April 28/2026

Sound of a chainsaw early this morning - well, early by our undemanding standards anyway. Thinking it’s more a Sioux Lookout than a London sound. Then see the source in the treed area behind our flat. Two men are working at tree trimming, one brave bloke pretty far up the tree. He’s wearing a helmet but there’s nothing but his own grip and balance to prevent a fall. Hardly visible amid the boughs but located just to the right of the red triangle.

England is so lush and verdant that it looks like temperate jungle in places. And when we’ve come back here from spots like Malta that are almost entirely built over it’s clear that if the people ever left then the trees and plants would take over in no time. And I think of Noel Harrison’s song The Great Electric Experiment is Over, one of my all time favourites:

I can see the grass is growing on the streets I knew

And through the trees

I can see the sun is shining on the sea

And the ruins of the city are in flower now 

For the great electric experiment is over

Over now.
 

Check out the charity shops along Kilburn High Road. There are three now. One has closed down and now we can’t remember which it was. May have been the one I bought my backpack at three years ago. 

And stop at Sainsbury’s. Usually more expensive than Aldi, though it has been driven to post signs on its better buys pointing out, as far as I can see accurately, that they’ve been price matched with Aldi. We’re browsing when it occurs to us that we’re now reading in Polish and not English. Look up and discover we’re in the Eastern and Central European section. Where we get a Polish ham sausage that proves to be excellent - lean, hard, dense and delicious.

Monday, April 27/2026

In the afternoon out to see Jean in West Harrow. Sunny and warm and a pretty easy underground trip from here.

Jean in good spirits and happy to see we’ve brought a bottle of wine, which she probably drinks only when we’re visiting. She’s ninety-one now, which she notes with some pride. 

Things have changed somewhat since our last visit in October. She now has 24 hour carers. This means two twelve hour shifts, eight to eight. The day shift carer now is a middle-aged Somali woman, pleasant and cheerful. Turns down our offer of a glass of wine as she’s Muslim, though she does admit that some Muslims do drink.

Dora, Jean’s regular weekly cleaner comes round. She’s been with Jean for years and is a treasure. Romanian born and not only cleans but does the grocery shopping and frequently brings home cooking. At first we aren’t sure if we’ve met before. The answer is no, but we’ve heard so much about each other that we’re not quite sure.

The carers aren’t allowed to clean as part of their contract, which is limited to personal care. Jean says she does pay, but not a lot, which is a tribute in part to her council, which is more generous and no doubt better funded than many in the UK. 

So there’s always company. And not only hired, though they act more like friends than employees. Next door neighbour Gwyneth pops in every morning to have coffee and disagree cheerfully about politics.

Pass a juice shop on Kilburn High Road on our way home. Window display entirely pomegranates. Don’t buy juice but do pick up a rotisserie chicken from one of the Arabic shops. 

Sunday, April 26/2026

View from the window of our studio. Well earned after the 39 steps up. Though not a record number. That was seven years ago in Bulgaria at 86 steps. Window opening on trees, red brick Victorian terraced houses, and the occasional large magpie. 

Bacon and eggs. London now the only place we stay where we buy side bacon, having given up on water injected bacon where it’s all too easy to stick your finger through

while separating the rashers. No doubt there are better possibilities in Canada but we never hit them.

And the eggs lovely and golden yolked free range ones. Lazy Sunday morning.

Saturday, April 25/2026

 

To Thames Ditton to visit Jenny and Doug and family for the day. Spring thoroughly in bloom here and dozens of kinds of flowers and flowering shrubs in exuberant mode as we walk from the train station.

Take the route through the village which is happily busy with people visiting the little shops and drinking coffee in the sun. A queue outside the obviously popular local bakery.

Met at the door by Doug and Jenny, Doug using a cane - as well as naproxen - in response to a recent knee injury. And we get a treat from the little bakery with the queue - lovely pastries with our coffee. Then over to Laura’s to admire the transformations Damon has  made in their house. Hadn’t seen the before version, but the house is an impressive tribute to his skill and designer eye - as is the back garden, a tropical oasis appreciated by the jungle minded cats.

Late lunch back at J and D’s with soup and cottage pie. Then joined by Emma with Jasmine and Noah, and later Giles and we sun ourselves in the garden. The day had been a little chilly to start with but afternoon temperature decently over 20 in the sun. Overseen by one or two crows - carrion crows, a little larger and stockier than ours, and apparently less sociable though no less intelligent.

And after Emma and crew have left, Jenny’s cheese course. Which turns out to be somewhat more than the excellent cheeses and includes slices of very impressive French sausage with truffle. Very good work on the part of the truffle hunting pigs. Though I understand that pigs are not commonly used to find truffles any more. The female pigs apparently find the truffle scent attractively similar to male pig pheromones and can detect it as much as three feet underground. But then it seems they disgrace themselves by damaging the truffle beds and eating the truffles.

Lovely day and much conversation as well as good food.

Friday, April 24/2026

 Studio we’ve stayed in before. In fact by the time I had the key out my iPad mini was chirping excitedly. It had remembered and connected with the WiFi. Tiny but well equipped and everything works.

Leisurely start to the day. No real agenda other than reacquainting ourselves with the street and getting in some basics - fruit, eggs, mushrooms, onions, bread. And pork and bacon. Bacon isn’t unavailable in North Cyprus but it’s not part of the culture and shops often don’t carry it. And English bacon is exceptionally good.

Thursday, April 23/2026

 

Courtesy Kibrispostasi 

April 23 is a national holiday- children’s day and national sovereignty day - both in North Cyprus and Türkiye. It’s the anniversary of the day that the Grand National Assembly of Türkiye was founded by Ataturk following the First World War. And Ataturk dedicated the holiday to the future - to children.

The fact that it’s a holiday is an advantage to us, and even more to our driver, because there is virtually no traffic on the road when we leave for the airport at 5:45 and won’t be much on the driver’s return trip an hour later when the traffic would usually be heavy.

The driver is Ozy. We’ve used Ozy’s taxi service for a few years now but the drivers are never the same driver twice. This, however, is Ozy himself. Born in Australia, hence the nickname, as I discover on suggesting that his accent is UK. Although the tables are turned when he asks if we are American. Ozy gallantly says no - it’s worse to accuse someone of being American than of being English. Do appreciate getting the opportunity to tell him what an excellent service he has, though. Things may mess up on trips - flights are delayed or changed - but as soon as Ozy has said ‘all confirmed, many thanks’ you know that that part of the trip won’t mess up. And we’ve messaged from Istanbul to tell him that the flight had been changed and the arrival would be much later to get the same calm response, and known that bit was taken care of.

So good chat on the way to the airport, watching sun rise - something we rarely see, having no east facing window, but Ozy sees daily. Interesting discussing the changes in North Cyprus over the years. We’ve been coming here for twenty-five years now, as country roads became dual carriageways.

Connection in Istanbul ok. Think we’re getting slightly better at it. One thing you can say about changing flights in Istanbul is that a day’s travel doesn’t deprive you of exercise. The terminal is massive, the world’s largest terminal building under one roof, at 1.4 million square metres. Significantly bigger than Heathrow in land area and, last year, larger in volume of passengers carried as well, at over 80 million. And takes its duties seriously with one of the world’s most thorough security vetting - three and sometimes four steps to get into the departure lounge. And for future reference the question is this your final destination refers only to actual connecting flights and not to anything one might choose to do after today. 

London transport familiar territory, except that today turns out to be a day of industrial action on the underground. I should actually have checked on this, though it’s not something that happens frequently. Anyway the nice lady at the underground entrance says to everyone attempting to enter that the trains will only go as far as Acton Town. Take the Elizabeth line for the Jubilee. The Elizabeth is the underground’s newest and fastest - and most expensive - and we actually haven’t been on it before. Pretty crowded today with others who would normally be taking another route. The electronic info aboard is pleased to tell us which lines are not operating (most of them) and which are operating with severe delays (most of the rest). But Jubilee is in the severe delays category so we make the switch at Bond Street not entirely optimistically, pick up a Jubilee northbound that is very full but not experiencing delays and hit Kilburn Station within my original non-strike projections. So flat waiting, 6 pm (8 Cyprus time). Long day over.

Wednesday, April 22/2026

 Last day. Packing, obviously. And always seem to end up with too much food. Which leaves me presenting the woman across the hallway with a bag containing two onions and a potato. We have very nearly no language in common. Not sure she has even understood that we are leaving tomorrow, and if she hasn’t the potato and onion must have seemed like an extremely odd gift. As in these foreigners have strange customs. Or do you suppose she’s suffering from dementia. 

So repair to Google translate and Turkish keyboard. Brief explanation and wishes for a good summer. As usual feed it into reverse translation to be sure. Looks fine. Copy out the Turkish on a scrap of paper and hand it over. Light dawns. Communication achieved.

Tuesday, April 21/2026

 J notes that the Greek church up the hill from us has begun glowing in the late afternoon. Of course the days are getting longer. Sunset later than it was, but not as late as. northern countries. We’re roughly Latitude 35.33 N. And at the same time the sun is setting more to the west and less to the southwest, which for us means that sunset has moved from its winter spot behind the mountain peaks. So now we get to see the warm glow of the stone church tower at dinner time.

Finishing the rock cakes J comments that they remind him of shortbread. And with good reason. Haven’t made shortbread but the main ingredients are basically the same (save for the raisins in the rock cakes) and furthermore the proportions of butter, sugar and flour are almost identical. 

Towels washed, ants murdered. Tasks proceeding.

Monday, April 20/2026

Errand day. Mobile phone shop to make arrangements for suspending service when we’re away. Have to admit that they’re better about doing this than Canadian mobile providers, who seem to want to have you prepay at horrific rates or pay for full year contracts. Some translation difficulties, though. The monthly suspension fee they refer to as a fine, which always sounds unduly punitive.  Bell Canada doesn’t call the suspension charge a fine but suppose it amounts to more or less the same thing. And Bell doesn’t want to see your passport in order to do business but probably know more about you than your nearest and dearest anyway. 

The only phone number we have year round is a UK mobile number. Based, of course in a country where we rarely spend more than three weeks, but works anywhere in the world. Not horrifically expensive, and in fact quite reasonable - except when used in TRNC and Türkiye, which seems to have not made inexpensive arrangements with any other country - except perhaps Azerbaijan. Not unreasonably expensive to use in Canada for us, but many Canadians have contracts that don’t include communicating with non-North American numbers.

Yes, of course. Communication possible in ways undreamt of in our youth. On the other hand, the assumption of both businesses and governments is that everyone has not only a telephone but, in many cases a smart mobile phone. (And yes, there are unsmart cellular phones still in existence. And very nice our last one was, too. Slid into a smallish pocket and used easily available inexpensive batteries which I, alone and unaided, could install in about twenty seconds). So countries will proudly proclaim that their networks cover, for example. 96% of the “landmass” (UK) or 99% of the population (Bell Canada mobility). Have a correspondent in Wales who lives in a spot that doesn’t receive a signal, which causes endless difficulty with agencies that are simply not equipped to deal with exceptions. And am dubious about the accuracy of Bell’s claim.

Telsim not our only stop, though. Acquire ant powder at the excellent DYI, which, unlike the mobile shop does not require either passports or cash despite our undisguised intent to commit murder. Then other stops for raisins, Turkish pepper, and black olives. Olives now reposing in the sun awaiting pitting.

Sunday, April 19/2026

 

The best cartoon commentaries on the war are the brilliant Lego animations produced by young Iranians. My blogging doesn’t run to videos but satire is essential for sanity.

Saturday, April 18/2026

Shaft of sunlight and banks of clouds fight for ascendancy as mountains fade out. Not photoshopped. Actually not easy to tell for much of the day whether it is cloud or Saharan dust obscuring mountains and sea. And that in the intervals between showers. Dust alert today. Should leave a brief season between Mediterranean dust alerts and Canadian forest fire smoke alerts. 

Is definitely spring here, though, and in Canada would pass for summer. Temperatures now hitting twenty plus. Just very indecisive.

According to the meteorologists the dust will “vanish” at midnight. Quite possibly. It will be too dark to tell.

Make rock cakes today with half of the remaining butter. Internet pleased to explain that the recipe became popular because it was easy for children learning to bake (true). Also many sites explaining that it was recommended as a UK wartime recipe because it used small amounts of rationed ingredients. Eggs (one, OK - though adult egg ration was one per week). Sugar (50 grams, not bad). Raisins.  Butter (100 grams. WHOA!  For much of the war the butter ration was 2 oz per week. A hundred grams is 3.5 ounces. That’s nearly two weeks’ butter ration to make a dozen biscuit sized rock cakes!). Can only conclude that cheerful info re value as wartime recipe comes from people born post war. Actually well after the war as UK rationing didn’t end until 1954. 

Note that these conclusions based on my knowledge of history and not personal wartime memories.

Friday, April 17/2026

Ginger cat with tip of tail missing is one of the regulars that crosses our terrace on its way to who knows where. Early this morning as the sky decides whether or not to deliver rain it creates a refuge underneath the buddleia on the edge of the terrace. Pretty well camouflaged too. (Bottom left quadrant). 

J engaged in anticide as ants the size of microdots begin busying themselves along the inside of the French doors opening onto the terrace. Seems familiar so search blog. Two years ago, almost to the day, the ants came marching one by one 🐜🐜🐜. Have tried vinegar this year and cayenne in 2024. Ants determined to hold out for full lethal dose, so Monday down to friendly DYI.

Weather spends the morning making up its mind re rain. Plenty of thunder of the sound and fury signifying something slightly short of a full born storm. And then rain. We’re hoping for a dry walk down to the Blue Song. But shortly before one, the skies clear. Criegan not here today and Pat gone for the summer, but Daphne shows up as well as Beverley and John, for our last gathering of the season.

Thursday, April 16/2026

 

A war of rhetoric as well, unhappily, as a real war causing significant civilian death - and not primarily as “collateral damage”. 

The magic words in the first week were “escalation ladder” and “exit ramp” and they’re still with us. Used by analysts on all sides and along the left right spectrum. Those providing commentary in English that is, and some Iranian analysts are extremely fluent in English.

Recently the ladder and the ramp have been joined by cards. A game of skill, or lack of it, and bluff. And much discussion about who “holds all the cards”. Twenty-four hour news reporting now exacerbated by a president who communicates - if that is indeed the word for it - on a near twenty-four hour schedule.

And the card image brings to mind the line of one wit during the Brexit negotiations.  “EU lays down a royal flush. UK looks at own cards: Mr Bun the Baker, Pikachu, a Shadowmage, a fireball spell, and the Fool.”

Wednesday, April 15/2026

Horst’s funeral this morning. We don’t attend, but do watch the live stream. Very nicely done with tributes from Caroline and Beverley. As Beverley said “A gentleman and a gentle man”. (Predictive text struggling - did I want gentleman to be one word or two?) 

And a farewell not without humour. Caroline remembered the European trip that Horst led where he advised the group to check at the reception desk for vouchers for a free crap. Turned out he meant to say crèpe. Don’t know about his French, but his English was very fluent - all the more impressive because he had taught it to himself in his fifties.

Tuesday, April 14/2026

 

Frequently dogs hanging out beside our little supermarket. Some may be strays, but definitely not all of them. Often have collars. But supermarkets are friendly places - and who knows, there might be a bone coming their way. Saw two sitting outside the open door once as a young dog waltzed in. Could almost see the cartoon bubbles above their heads saying “We’re not allowed to go inside”. And of course the pup didn’t get to stay. 

Shop has a nice quince gin, good on ice in hot weather. The company does make a sister drink - a pink gin. But what flavour is pink? Pink what - crayon? Read the fine print (and I’m not the only person for whom reading the fine print means taking a phone shot and enlarging it). Strawberry and raspberry. Sounds OK. Gave it a try a while back. More like pink crayon. The quince is pretty good though.

Monday, April 13/2026

Summer? Not quite. But the neighbour’s grapevine is sporting new growth. And today is the first day that it is too hot to sit out on the terrace. Not too wet or too windy - just too hot. That’s midday and early afternoon, of course. Cools off in the late afternoon. 

Long memories in this part of the world. Thus singer İşin Karaca (British citizen, UK born to a family of Turkish Cypriot origin) was refused entry to Greece on the weekend, although her husband and her daughter, with whom she was on holiday were admitted. Karaca was then deported from Athens. 

No reason was given for the refusal. Of course immigration officials are not obliged to provide a reason for not admitting you and would frequently be wiser not to. However, Karaca assumes, probably correctly, that it was because she had sung the Izmir Marşi, the Turkish independence song at a festival in Izmir, Türkiye, two years ago. 

The song celebrates Turkish independence - from Greek occupation - in 1922. Izmir, traditionally known by its Greek name Smyrna, was liberated by the founder of modern Türkiye, Kemal Ataturk, and the song includes reference to the Greeks fleeing, as indeed they were forced to do. This, of course, the extremely short version. There are more than enough horrific details in a complicated history that at various points reflects significant discredit on both sides. 

But we are talking about a song. Sung in another country. About an event that took place nearly a hundred years ago. And it could have been yesterday.

Sunday, April 12/2026

Oleander and hibiscus a bit on the slow side but other members of the hedge now admitting it’s spring. Shirt sleeve weather outside, or would be if it weren’t for the windiness. Reminds me of Aesop’s fable about the contest between Mr Sun and Mr Wind, first encountered in an old schoolbook of my father’s. The challenge is to make a man take off his coat, and of course the sun wins. Had the challenge been to make him put on a jacket there would have been a different winner, even with the sun trying its best.

The TRNC coalition government has postponed debate on cost of living allowances for at least a week. No doubt pleased to have the excuse of “global uncertainties and sensitivities in society”, enabling Prime Minister Ustel to say that the decision had been taken with the aim of “reducing social tension and creating a basis for consensus”.

Meanwhile conflict amongst the neighbours continues, with Netanyahu and Türkiye’s President Erdoğan trading insults, an art at which both are fairly accomplished. Presumably escalation not truly of benefit to either.

Saturday, April 11/2026

 Lovely day for market but vendors, and for that matter customers, a bit thin on the ground. Dogs always enjoy the market though. Spot one taking a nap on a disintegrating sofa outside one of the market buildings.

Criegan here having a market breakfast, so we stop for a chat. Very un-Turkish - bacon, egg and sausage with toast. Attracts a black lab who clearly would like to share but keeps a (barely) polite distance.

And as usual unable to resist a couple of acquisitions at the book stall, where a small cat is curled up on top of one of the book displays.

Meanwhile the state of the world continues bizarre as ever. Dimitri Lascaris currently reporting from Iran and Lebanon with video clips. His usual clear analysis.