As summer reluctantly gives way to a bright and sunny autumn, which is always my favourite time of the year in Cyprus, I find myself in a reflective mood. 2019 has flown by and there have been many things (too many, if I am honest) to deal with. We are, by nature, both on the procrastination wing of life, and - by and large - this is how it should be.
Cyprus lends itself to this approach as nobody races around at breakneck speed (unless they are at the wheel of a twin-cab) and there is always tomorrow. But sometimes life intrudes.
Our journeys to Paphos have become more frequent, as some things are just not available out in the country. Ann travels regularly to see her consultant at Paphos General, and that is not stressful but time-consuming, and tiring. Next week sees us off to Immigration to hopefully settle our MEU3 application. No thanks here to the wretched UK government for trying to ruin the lives of British citizens living in the EU.
We have made a number of changes in 2019, and perhaps the most noticeable has been to engage Mick, a lovely pool man from Kathikas, who visits us twice a week (winter and summer) to make sure our pool is sparkling clean and healthy. I really noticed this in the very hot months when all we want to do is enjoy the pool and not clean it. Ann pestered me until I caved in and it was a very worthwhile decision. If you are following us to Cyprus, and decide a private pool is the last piece in the “living the dream” jigsaw, then budget for someone qualified to do this important job.
Although not a 2019 decision, our employment of Lisa as someone to clean the house and do the ironing was a significant milestone. Every now and again we have to remind ourselves we have retired to the sun, and so do not need to fill our time with domestic tasks. But Lisa has proved to be a godsend and we just leave her to it and go to the pub for a drink, safe in the knowledge that Daisy is keeping an eye on her.
Sitting here and gazing over the bay reminds me that we are very lucky to live the life we do. If you cannot decide that this life is for you, then consider that we all only live once. Carpe diem.
Monday 30 September 2019
Wednesday 25 September 2019
Esau is an hairy man ...
I look at the current fashion for designer stubble, straggly beards and the like, and I despair. In every walk of life slovenliness is rampant. I will be the first to admit that I hate shaving, and I have always hated shaving - and there are days when I don’t shave. And then I look in the mirror, or Ann makes a gentle comment, and I see the grey stubble and hate it.
Growing a dark, luxuriant beard is almost a rite of passage in Cyprus, as it is in many Mediterranean countries, and the beard must come as early as is possible. That is as cultural as the incredible moustaches many older Cypriots exhibit. However, watching U.K. television and the true scale of the decline of standards in British life is very apparent.
It may be a sign of ageing but I do not like it. Some men undoubtedly suit this style but, when I see the unkempt nature of others, I mentally grimace. Joe Root, the England cricket captain, is a case in point. If he doesn’t shave for the next ten years he will never manage to grow a decent beard. But he persists with his straggly offering and looks ridiculous in the process.
Even more ridiculous, and this has nothing to do with facial hair, is the position of the British Government and their lack of political nous. I have never despaired as deeply in my adult life when I see Boris Johnson floundering like a beached whale, as he seems unable (or unwilling) to deal with events in an honourable fashion. Cypriot friends hoot with laughter as they discuss the mortal plight of their former colonial masters.
Imagine being trapped in No 10 Downing Street with no power to influence the course of events, having “spaffed” your majority at the behest of that poisoned dwarf (your political adviser) and then being at the mercy of that cretin Corbyn and his communist apparatchik. There is a hell on earth, so it seems.
Growing a dark, luxuriant beard is almost a rite of passage in Cyprus, as it is in many Mediterranean countries, and the beard must come as early as is possible. That is as cultural as the incredible moustaches many older Cypriots exhibit. However, watching U.K. television and the true scale of the decline of standards in British life is very apparent.
It may be a sign of ageing but I do not like it. Some men undoubtedly suit this style but, when I see the unkempt nature of others, I mentally grimace. Joe Root, the England cricket captain, is a case in point. If he doesn’t shave for the next ten years he will never manage to grow a decent beard. But he persists with his straggly offering and looks ridiculous in the process.
Even more ridiculous, and this has nothing to do with facial hair, is the position of the British Government and their lack of political nous. I have never despaired as deeply in my adult life when I see Boris Johnson floundering like a beached whale, as he seems unable (or unwilling) to deal with events in an honourable fashion. Cypriot friends hoot with laughter as they discuss the mortal plight of their former colonial masters.
Imagine being trapped in No 10 Downing Street with no power to influence the course of events, having “spaffed” your majority at the behest of that poisoned dwarf (your political adviser) and then being at the mercy of that cretin Corbyn and his communist apparatchik. There is a hell on earth, so it seems.
Tuesday 10 September 2019
Ye Gods ...
Whereas life in Cyprus remains calm and stable, we both look with horror and incredulity at the political situation in the UK. So I’ll remain calm and not mention it until I have reregistered which will enable me to vote in the upcoming General Election. I first voted in 1970 and have voted Conservative ever since but I shall not be voting for the Conservatives on this and subsequent occasions. My vote will go to the Liberal Democrats as they have decided to revoke Article 50.
We were relieved that September brought milder temperatures and then somebody turned the thermostat and the humidity controls up, so we have “hunkered” down and kept cool. Daisy and the cats stay close to home and find the coolest places to snooze. Once the air conditioning is switched on, then they appear to luxuriate in the cool air.
Great fun with Cyta (our telecoms provider) when we decided to increase our internet speed. We decided to increase our speed from 10 Mb to 20 Mb (a steal at an extra €5,00 a month). Ann has discovered YouTube and often streams video when the tv is on. Hence some buffering ... not a problem except when the cricket is on. With the rugby World Cup a couple of weeks away, self-interest dictated an upgrade. All very straightforward except fo the fact that our speed stayed resolutely at 10 Mb. Contacting Cyta then told me I needed a new router to deliver the speed increase. Off to Cyta this morning to exchange the router and I had to explain what the problem was. The helpful lady told me that the speed increase always required a new router. Why hadn’t they told me when I applied? The “Cypriot Shrug” and a beaming smile was the answer. Back home, and after five minutes, we were cooking on gas.
In the Cyta shop we had a lovely example of the laidback lifestyle we love here. An English lady was at the next counter to me and was being dealt with by a very young woman. After a couple of minutes her mobile rang. She answered the phone and began a long conversation in Greek. The irate English woman demanded to know whether the girl was serving her. Wide-eyed the girl looked up and said, “No I am talking to my mother.” At this point I left. You’ve got to love Cyprus.
We were relieved that September brought milder temperatures and then somebody turned the thermostat and the humidity controls up, so we have “hunkered” down and kept cool. Daisy and the cats stay close to home and find the coolest places to snooze. Once the air conditioning is switched on, then they appear to luxuriate in the cool air.
Great fun with Cyta (our telecoms provider) when we decided to increase our internet speed. We decided to increase our speed from 10 Mb to 20 Mb (a steal at an extra €5,00 a month). Ann has discovered YouTube and often streams video when the tv is on. Hence some buffering ... not a problem except when the cricket is on. With the rugby World Cup a couple of weeks away, self-interest dictated an upgrade. All very straightforward except fo the fact that our speed stayed resolutely at 10 Mb. Contacting Cyta then told me I needed a new router to deliver the speed increase. Off to Cyta this morning to exchange the router and I had to explain what the problem was. The helpful lady told me that the speed increase always required a new router. Why hadn’t they told me when I applied? The “Cypriot Shrug” and a beaming smile was the answer. Back home, and after five minutes, we were cooking on gas.
In the Cyta shop we had a lovely example of the laidback lifestyle we love here. An English lady was at the next counter to me and was being dealt with by a very young woman. After a couple of minutes her mobile rang. She answered the phone and began a long conversation in Greek. The irate English woman demanded to know whether the girl was serving her. Wide-eyed the girl looked up and said, “No I am talking to my mother.” At this point I left. You’ve got to love Cyprus.
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