Wherefore art thou, Roland?

 We have had an unwelcome visitor in the house for the last week or so. Roland the Rat makes his presence felt in the early morning by scratching at the back of the kitchen cupboards (which is where he is making himself at home). Our cats have shown absolutely no interest - back to kitten school, I say - and Daisy goes quite berserk, but that’s as far as it goes.

Advice is somewhat varied. Poison (takes weeks and we have pets), glue traps (tried and failed to make any difference), humane traps, which will prove possible to source here, and call in Pest Control. Many expats on my forum have advised against this, saying they are ineffective and expensive. So the next step is to contact our friend Savvas and see what he suggests. There may be a weird and wonderful way that Cypriots manage to keep their house pest free.

Christmas was a great success, mainly due to the superhuman efforts made by Ann. In the run-up to Christmas I was rather under the weather, and she stepped up and dispatched me to bed (eighteen hours asleep on Christmas Eve). Fortunately I feel rather better now. The beef en croûte was lovely, and the trifle a veritable triumph. Boxing Day was a smorgasbord of homemade soup (tomato and celery), and cheese and pickles and olives and ... Roses chocolates ... grapes. As my grandmother would have said “FTB ... full to the brim and fit to burst”.

It’s touch and go whether this blog reaches fifty thousand views before or just after New Year. It is gratifying that people visit and read my words of wisdom, rants, complaints and tips if you are moving to Cyprus.

A Tale of Two ...

 It is both interesting and a little confusing to see how my country and my adopted country are reacting to the increased infection rate of this wretched virus. Neither country is managing it well. The UK seems to be in true headless chicken mode, with today’s newspapers suggesting that the lunatic Christmas relaxation for five days may well be cancelled. There have been more changes of direction in government “policy” than you could ever believe. Lockdown, tiers, new tiers, circuit-break and now new movement to stricter tiers overnight. Heaven help people who try to follow the guidance - although, according to a number of online tabloids - so many people are just not bothering.

Here in Cyprus it has been too little, too late. Now, with strict guidelines, the number of infections is growing exponentially. We see people not wearing masks (and they are compulsory outdoors as well), definitely not keeping their distance and behaving as if this virus is a minor inconvenience. The problem here is that the virus is out of control. Cyprus went from about a thousand cases in May (and then the airports were reopened) to over fifteen thousand cases now. “So what” you might say. The problem is that this island has a small population and so cases per 100,000 of the population are proportionally higher.

Ann reminded me this morning we have been self-isolating for nine months now. We have remained sane and positive. Of course for much of this time we have had glorious weather, the swimming pool has been a godsend, and sitting overlooking the bay with a cold glass of something has made life more than bearable. Our local kiosk has been brilliant with Joanna or Marios delivering food and drink to our door with the minimum of fuss, and a smile on their faces. The cost of delivery? Free.

The western world is focussed on Christmas, and the fear of not having a family celebration is seemingly on a par with the apocalypse. I can understand the emotion after such a year, but are we talking about grown-ups? In any event life will go on, whether that is back to normal or the “new normal”. I hope all visitors to my blog stay safe and enjoy as good a Christmas as circumstances allow.

A close shave ...

 The ongoing saga of the Royal Mail refusing to send my new electric wet/dry razor to Cyprus because it is a prohibited item has irritated me no end. After spending a considerable amount of money on a new razor (because my old one died), I am now in no man’s land. After a few days my stubble is not “designer” - it just looks a mess. But, with Ann’s help, a temporary solution was found.

Polis has a number of barbers and so I asked on Facebook whether any of them offered a shaving service. It turned out that many of them did, and one barber was recommended over and over. My chum David emailed me and explained where this barber was situated, whether mask wearing  and cleanliness was good, and the quality of the shave.

Idris is a a Turkish Armenian who has set up a barber’s shop. So off I went this morning and was warmly greeted by Idris and his younger Cypriot assistant, who was to shave me. Ten minutes later I was as closely and cleanly shaved as I can remember, hairs on my nose were removed by threading (painlessly) and the spray of cologne was cooling. The cost was eye-watering - a whole €3,00. This was the closest shave I have had since Ann and I went to Goa in 2003. Until my razor eventually arrives from the UK I can see regular visits. What a success!

We have had a busy week so far. Yesterday we had to drive to Paphos to visit the District Court so that Ann could have an affidavit stamped to prove we were married. This was so we could exchange our UK driving licences for Cypriot ones. That requires another visit to the Department of Transport tomorrow in Paphos. If you plan on following in our footsteps don’t make the mistake of having all utility bills in the husband’s name (this is almost automatic here) and have one in the wife’s name. It makes life much easier. On Thursday we travel to Paphos yet again for Ann to see her consultant at the hospital. Roll on Friday.

That should be the final step in ensuring we are legal in Cyprus. Our MEU3 gives us permanent residence here but this can be changed for UK3 once Cyprus sorts that out. Unlike the MEU3, which required a mountain of paperwork, this change only requires the MEU3 form and a current passport. After that I really don’t want to see the inside of a government office again.

The wrong trousers ...

 I was just thinking of the lovely Wallace & Gromit film “The Wrong Trousers”. Why you might ask? Well yesterday 2nd December was the first time I have worn trousers (as opposed to shorts) since early April. And that is why I love living in Cyprus so much as the mild weather can be delightful for months and months on end. We don’t often leave the house after dark, when the temperature can drop after sunset, and so changing to go out has become a thing of the past.

The level of infections here has risen quite sharply in the last couple of months and continues to do so. A government that acted so precipitously in the spring has bowed to the apparent needs of the economy, and it is sad to see. Sooner or later they will have to increase the restrictions to stem the rate of increase. It seems quite daft to ease matters when a vaccine is on the horizon, which may change matters for us all.

Ann and I have discussed whether we would be prepared to be vaccinated, and it will be a very difficult decision. Both of us (age and underlying medical conditions) are in the vulnerable category, and we have to ask ourselves whether the possible (and unknown) side effects of this vaccine are preferable to catching a virus which could be fatal. On the run up to Christmas last year who would have thought 2020 would end up as it has.

It reminds me of a bank manager who used to come into our pub in Kent, who always advised you to take your pensions the second they became available as no one knew when “the number 54 was coming round the corner”.

On a more cheery note, we are getting used to cosying up to the log burner after sunset, and eating earlier, and watching various box sets. We recently watched The Undoing, which we both thought was brilliant - despite being disappointed by the ending. My money was on Donald Sutherland. We are now looking at The Crown. We bailed out of Season 3, as neither of us could believe Olivia Coleman as the queen. But so far, Season 4 has been more watchable. And - on the back burner - we plan to watch Queen’s Gambit, especially as I am teaching Ann to play chess.

718 more visits to this blog will bring up 50,000 views - and I find that hard to believe sometimes. Thank you for taking the trouble to continue reading.

Sunshine and cool evenings ...

 A lovely combination this last few days ... the sun is shining and it is warm enough to sit on the terrace with a glass of something, and then the sun goes down, we retreat inside and light the log burner. “Lovely jubbly” as Del Boy would have said. I find there is something magical about luxuriating in front of a log burner, after having months and months of a Cyprus spring and summer, and autumn too.

And we are set for the winter with two deliveries of lemonwood logs from our regular supplier. Ann refers to him as “The Professor” for the lovely way he stack our logs - almost an art form. Hopefully, if winter is not too cold or wet, that should see us through the log burning season. For those still hoping to follow in our footsteps, it is timeous to remind you that heating is essential in the winter as Cypriot houses are notoriously badly insulated. You can read all you want about the 300+ days of sunshine in Cyprus, but in December, January, February and sometimes March, you will regret not being warm and cosy once the sun goes down.

In our early years we relied on a combination of air conditioners set to “heat” mode, and mobile gas heaters. And, with that combination of heating, we were plagued with damp and mould. After thousands of euros were spent on sorting out damp courses and the area between the surroundings of the house and the walls (all had to be dug up, and dried out and replaced) over a number of months. That dispensed with the damp, once we realised gas heaters were a health hazard and very bad news for us.

The decision to install a log burner two and a half years ago was a - and I hesitate to use the hackneyed expression so beloved of Boris Johnson and Matt Hancock - a “game changer”. We used to dread (possibly an exaggeration) the sun going down and the fall in the temperature. Now, with glee, we light the blue touch paper and stand back. Once the internal temperature reaches 60°C, the fan starts and it is difficult not to shout out “5 ... 4 ... 3 ... 2 ... 1 ... Thunderbirds are GO”. You can tell I am a child of the 60s.

Daisy loves the log burner and creeps ever closer. Not surprising for a dog who has to be persuaded not to sunbathe in August.

Too little, too late

 I have been quite impressed with the way this country has dealt with the pandemic ... until recently. Daily infections were in single figures, the number of ICU beds were more than adequate and people (by and large) were being sensible and obeying the rules. And then ... and then ... the government was put under incredible pressure by the unions and other employer groups, and they opened up the airports. This was followed at the end of the summer by the schools and universities opening. What a mix and it was all so predictable.

Infections soared, and deaths, and all the hard work of the previous months had been for nought. Once Pandora’s Box had been opened it was nigh on impossible to shut it. Many people gave up on the idea of social distancing, masks - where worn - were round the chin. In a matter of a few weeks Cyprus went from  1500 cases to over 6500. The track and trace team could not cope and it would appear that the laboratories closed at weekends.

Like European governments all over, the President decided that something needed to be done ... to show that he was doing something. But, inevitably the action taken was too little, too late. Infections continued to rise, and so further restrictions were placed on the Limassol and Paphos regions. It was similar to the first lockdown, without the SMS messaging. There are now roadblocks between the regions, but it’s all too late. We are effectively locked down until December. Too short a period as it is not long enough to see whether the restrictions are working or not.

This is having little effect on us, as we were already taking our own precautions. But the effect on many Cypriots will be devastating. Workers in the businesses closed will join the many who are struggling. There will be the siren cries of “Christmas must be saved” and I suspect we will lurch from one lockdown to the next.

With a vaccine possibly on the horizon, surely this must be the time to grit one’s teeth over the next few months and wait the virus out. 

Hidden poverty in Cyprus

 As most people who come to live in Cyprus realise, there is no real safety net here for people who fall on hard times. After six months (always assuming you were working and paying Social Security) any benefits stop and you are left to survive on your own.

The coronavirus disaster has put that very small safety net under impossible pressure because Cyprus is - as near as damn it - insolvent. They cannot print money as the UK has done (the Eurozone does not allow that), and since the “haircut” in 2013, Cyprus is frozen out of the international money markets and so cannot borrow. The pandemic, which has thrown so many people out of work, just makes matters worse.

We are shielded from this poverty, as I suspect many non-Cypriots are, and don’t really notice what is apparent. However there are individuals who try to help. One local couple started providing hot meals for those in need, and asked for donations - no money just food. We supported this initiative for some months, and had our local kiosk deliver the groceries to a venue in Polis.

They moved their operation out of the area and we looked to see if we could help someone else. A lovely local entrepreneur was doing things quietly behind the scenes, and Ann contacted her to ask if we could be of help. She sent us a list of items (mainly dried and tinned items) and we gladly contacted our kiosk who sorted things out. Ann contacted her again and asked what was needed. This time it was bedding (blankets and duvets) as winter was approaching. During this exchange we found out that one family had received all we had bought. We were told the eight-year old daughter of this family had not eaten for three days. THREE DAYS! How on earth can anyone be left to their own devices like that? We were stunned and upset.

So off to the charity shop to see whether we can buy some warm bedding to be in use this evening, and any surplus from the sum we have set aside will go to more food.

I mention this story not to tell the world how marvellous and charitable we are. I write this so that the hidden poverty in Cyprus can be unearthed and if only one person reads this and wants to help, they can. What is most noticeable is that these kind and helpful people are running businesses as well, and resolutely refuse money. Food, bedding, winter clothes - but absolutely no money. We have bitter memories when we raised money through Argaka Aid some years ago to help needy families in our village, and the snide comments and accusations that reached our ears. Sad, but true.

It is said that very crisis is a veritable honeypot for fraudsters and scammers. But the people in this story are as honest as the day is long, and we trust them without reservation.

Why are we here?

It would be something of an understatement to write that 2020 has been a difficult year for us, and billions of others on this planet. We have coped and adjusted and are fortunate to be in a situation where we can still enjoy “life” here in Cyprus. Restrictions come and go, and we abide by them. 

I found wearing a mask indoors to be very demanding and claustrophobic. It is mandatory and I very much wanted to shield Ann from having to do the shopping. But, a chance encounter, has made that particular problem much less so. On one of the expat forums of which I am a member, a lady (from whom we bought some garden furniture a few years ago) was extolling the virtues of a mask. It is called an HeiQ Viroblock Mask, and has been designed in Switzerland. It offers Antimicrobial properties and was found to be effective in protecting wearers from previous coronavirus epidemics. To cut a long story short I met Maggie and her husband and bought four masks from her (she had apparently bought a batch of twenty, not realising that they can be washed up to thirty times). This mask is triple-layered and the layer next to the face stays dry and is therefore comfortable to wear and to breathe through.

They are therefore ideal for us and I highly recommend them. You can see the details and buy them here ...

https://shop.heiq.com/collections/masks-available-in-eu/products/copy-of-heiq-viroblock-washable-mask-duopack-eu-uk

So we are as safe as we can be, and will take whatever precautions that we believe to be necessary. But Ann will stress, and she is right to do it, that we came to Cyprus to have “Fun in the Sun” and that is what we shall do. Now how many shopping days are there to Christmas?

Butcher, baker ...

 My skills as a baker have never been really utilised and Ann’s efforts to make scones over the last few months have been sabotaged by the oven’s inability to heat up to the correct temperature. When Andreas the engineer came to look at it, he told us that when set at 220°C the oven temperature was actually 150°C. No wonder our pizzas were soggy and Ann’s scones flat.

But help was at hand. The next day we had a new oven installed and we were itching to experiment. Scones were the order of the day, and the results were outstanding. In fact they were so good we took a batch down for the staff at the shop where we bought the oven. The evidence ...

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Is the end nigh?

 Despite the relative calm and tranquility in Cyprus, we see that the number of virus infections continue to rise - although at a containable rate for the moment. There are “clusters” in Limassol and Larnaca, and the government has brought in additional measures. The confusion in many commentators’ minds arises with the fallacious argument that “herd immunity” is desired ... or even possible. From all that I have read, the various antibodies and t-cells that infected people generate to protect themselves do not last long. If that is indeed the case, a vaccine would be equally ineffective for the same reasons.

Back in the UK, confusion and changing direction abound. When I heard the PM stating that a national lockdown would not happen (although you could always confuse the issue by calling it a “circuit-breaker) I immediately realised it was only a matter of time before there was not another rapid about-turn. This was the same man who described Liverpudlians as “seeing themselves whenever possible as victims”. I suspect his latest decision is unlikely to have a statue raised in his honour in Liverpool.

A triumph however at Castle Douglas. We bought a new oven on Tuesday (one where the temperature was as advertised) and Ann set out to bake some scones. She had tried valiantly over the months and - on each occasion - they were as flat as pancakes. On this occasion they rose and rose and rose, and were absolutely delicious. The engineer who fitted our oven told us that the old oven was heating to 150°C when it was set to 220°C. No wonder we had flat scones. A brilliant purchase ... we went to the shop on Tuesday morning and the new oven was fitted by 4.00 pm on the same day. That’s what I call service.

Out to try a new place for lunch after Ann has been to the hairdresser. And then, perhaps, a sit in the sunshine when we get home. Virus or not, life in Cyprus is good.

A lovely time of year ...

 I cannot decide whether autumn or spring are my favourite times of the year, as both have sublime weather. Now that October has arrived, the fierce heat of the last four months has subsided and temperatures are blissful. 2020’s summer was one of the hottest on record and Cypriots and expats suffered. But now, the days are warm, the breeze cooling and we can sleep with the air conditioning off.

But aware that our wood supplier ran out of supplies last winter we have taken delivery of our first two cubic metres of lemonwood. It was beautifully stacked by “the professor” (as Ann calls him), and we shall order another two cubic metres next month. Lemonwood burns beautifully and we shall top off our wood burner with kiln-dried oak, which burns slowly and very hot. Now that I think about it, when winter does arrive, there is something very comforting about lighting the stove and being cosy indoors. I suppose that is a byproduct of living outside for nine months of the year.

I don’t think we have had breakfast or dinner inside the house since May. And that is what we love about life on this beautiful island. And, of note to us, yesterday was the eighth anniversary of our arrival here in Cyprus. Although Ann has returned to England twice to see her daughter, I have not left the island. What an adventure it has been, and continues to be.

Intellectual vacuum ...

 Waking up this morning to the news from the UK that hospitality venues are to close at 10.00 pm from Thursday. And then the moronic Health Secretary, when asked, could not definitely say whether pubs and restaurants might be closed by the weekend. Left hand, right hand, joined-up thinking, strategic planning - all are absent in the intellectual vacuum that is the British Government.

One only needs to cast one’s mind back to the end of July when Boris was urging people to return to their offices, spend till you drop and then the Chancellor unveiled a package which encouraged people (but only people who could afford it) to “Eat out to help out”. This particular initiative took my breath away. Here one had the tax payer subsidising those who could afford to eat out to have cheaper food ... whilst at the same time food banks were reporting record demand from people on the breadline.

And then, after a month or six weeks of such largesse, with summer receding - the number of infections start to rise and keep rising. With schools and universities restarting, and people beginning to return to the office (in order to stop Pret A Manger and other over-priced sandwich sellers from going bust), it was revealed that testing in some areas was being rationed, as nobody had realised that infections might rise in the autumn.

If it wasn’t so tragic, it would be laughable. I don’t doubt for a second that our lovely dog, Daisy, could manage things better.

Cricket without the crowds ...

 Now that cricketers have stopped all the Black Lives Matter nonsense (at least the England and Australia teams have) I decided to watch the one-day international match on Thursday. It was good to get televised sport again - given our month-long exile from the internet - but what a strange experience. You could hear the gentle hum of conversation from the crowd, but there was no crowd.

I am watching another match this afternoon from a deserted Old Trafford and, in the background (ever so faintly) I could hear the gentle rhythm of a steel band. Someone at Sky was playing the wrong background noise. It made me appreciate how much live sport (when watched on television) relies on the atmosphere generated by the crowd.

Back on Fantasy Island (as I now think of the UK) and the dear old government have indeed lost the plot with both Brexit and the Covid-19 crisis. They are ruling by ministerial diktat without the Commons being allowed to participate. Ten million tests a day (compulsory, perhaps) and digital passports which will allow people to return to work, and be monitored all the time. I can just imagine a Covid Marshall (think John Wayne in a hi-vis jacket) confronting people and “Let me see your papers”.

A totalitarian nightmare awaits without a return to the Rule of Law and government by consent.

“Bye, Bye, Cyta, Goodbye”

 Well after eight years with Cyprus’ national telecoms company, it was time to say goodbye. Weeks and weeks have gone by and we have been fobbed off, lied to and ignored - and all the time they were collecting our direct debits. I pointed out to them that we had a contract with them. It was simple ... they connected us to the internet and we paid them. Well no more.

I contacted a local firm, highly recommended, and within a day they arrived, sorted out WiFi internet (a very steady 35 Mb download speed) and were done and dusted within an hour.  Cyta ironically emailed us to say that they “may” be able to get a team out to us next week, and once service was restored, they would investigate my complaint.

That was the final straw. The only problem we have is that our tv provider needs to fiddle about in Switzerland so that we can stream our programmes.

News from the UK amused us today with the announcement that “Covid Marshall” would patrol the streets to disperse groups of more than six people. They will have no powers of arrest, no powers to fine people and you can just imagine the indignation of people as yet another version of “Plastic Policemen” stride amongst them ...

Jesus wept ...

Bloody Cyta

 After twenty days we still have no internet, thanks to Cyta. Looking at alternatives tomorrow and shall be back online soon.

Dreams and nightmares ...

 What a strange and uncertain world we live in - even in the glorious isolation of a Cyprus summer. We still self-isolate, although we occasionally leave the bubble for a change of scenery. I belong to an expat online forum, where information and opinion is shared, and where the vast majority of members are sensible and thoughtful - with exceptions. Many of the members are retired and came to the island “to live the dream”, and quite a number are thoroughly frightened by the virus. It is the invisible nature of the beast which makes it so frightening.

Franklin Delano Roosevelt, 87 years ago, put his finger on the problem.

So, first of all, let me assert my firm belief that the only thing we have to fear is...fear itself — nameless, unreasoning, unjustified terror which paralyzes needed efforts to convert retreat into advance.

Never were words so apt in their wisdom.

We dream of a future where the virus is under control (through vaccines or treatment) but the nightmare continues with every article in the MSM. Conspiracy theorists arise and the volume of fake news, or even worse - where opinion is published as fact - confounds even the most thoughtful. It gets to the point when you literally do not know what is factual.

We are grateful to live here as I would hate living in the country I was born in, under a government I detest. So we hope that dreams become the reality and the nightmares are cast into the outer darkness.

Losing the internet ...

We have been offline since 23rd July and were finally reconnected yesterday. Cyta, our service provider - with whom we have been happy for years - did not cover themselves with glory on this occasion. An engineer arrived the next day and proclaimed that the “internet was not working”, and that the “Underground Team” would need to resolve the problem. They worked on Saturdays (this was Friday) but might not be able to attend until Monday. Monday came and went, but no internet.

This was when I had one of my many calls to 132, their technical helpline. Each day I was told something different but the outcome was always the same - no internet. Eventually I went down to the Cyta shop in Polis and spoke to the lovely Leonides, who tried to contact the “Underground Team”. They did not answer. He phoned someone else in Paphos and - lo and behold - the “Underground Team” telephoned him. They would come and sort out the problem on Friday (this was Thursday). On Friday some called and told me, apologetically, the “Underground Team” could not repair the problem but would return on Monday to replace the cable.

Eventually two guys arrived and opened up the box on the side of our house, pulled out a bit of cable and spliced in a new piece. It took them two minutes. Not for one second did they go underground ... he then showed me the damaged cable and told me it had been chewed by a mouse. We checked and all was working. Off they went with my thanks.

To add insult to injury we checked our bank account online to find out that Cyta had called the direct debit for the full amount, despite the fact that we had had no internet for twelve days. No doubt another conversation is called for.

We love living here but every now and again we despair about things like this. It also showed us how essential the internet is - no radio, no television, no music, no email, no online newspapers, and no “I’ll just check that recipe”.

Poor Cyprus

A whole raft of problems is affecting this country, and there are conflicting views as to what to do for the best. The root of the problem is that an enormous proportion of Cyprus’ GDP (35% and possibly more) is generated by tourism and hospitality, and the tourists are not coming in any numbers, and are unlikely to do so until the virus dies out, or a vaccine or treatment is proven to work.

This summer season has been a disaster, and the unemployment and hardship felt by the people who work in hospitality is obvious and very distressing. There has been some support for workers who have been laid off, and who have lost their jobs. The Employment Minister fears unemployment will grow rapidly in the autumn, when support and benefits finish - and she was honest enough to say that (with the current state of the economy) the government would not be able to afford to help all those who would become destitute.

Thousands of meals have been prepared by restaurants and bars to try at least give people in need one good meal a day. One café bar in Coral Bay has so far produced over twelve thousand meals for people in that area. How long such volunteer efforts can stem the tide is open to question? Other countries borrow money (or “create” money like the UK) but Cyprus is locked out of the money markets after the “haircut” in 2012/3. The only hope is that financial aid will come from the EU and that will need to be repaid in due course.

There is great pressure on the Cyprus government to open the doors to mass tourism, particularly the British and Russian markets, but this would be an enormous risk. If the virus numbers rose and there was a second lockdown, the economy might implode. Any decision is likely to have dreadful consequences for the people ...

What on Earth are you doing?

I could not quite believe my eyes when I saw photographs of the 1st Test between England and the West Indies. All the players were kneeling down, and some of the West Indies’ players were wearing a black glove and raising a clenched fist in what to people of my generation was called the “Black Power Salute”. How many of the England players wanted to kneel down or was this just a new iteration of ‘virtue signalling’? The match was delayed by rain and so we had the edifying spectacle of Sky Sports providing a platform for Michael Holding to lecture people about racism. I was spitting feathers and - despite missing televised cricket - I will not watch a minute of this match or any other when the players “choose” to demonstrate in this way. And reading the comments in The Times there are many other supporters who feel the same.

This summer of protest was set alight by the unlawful killing of a black man by a white policeman in the USA. A tragic event but absolutely nothing to do with the UK. I cannot remember any protests in the USA or any other country when PC Keith Blakelock was murdered in 1985 during the Broadwater Farm riots. Where was the “White Lives Matter” protest then?

In both the USA and UK it has been an excuse for rioting and looting (I wonder how many widescreen televisions were liberated). Of course no sensible person wants to see police brutality or racism in their country. But demanding the removal of Cecil Rhodes’ statue from outside of Oriel College in Oxford was ridiculous in the extreme. I wonder how many black undergraduates who benefited from Rhodes’ Scholarships to Oxford were in agreement?

And then I come to the apparent surrender of the police to mob rule. Policemen and women running away from demonstrators - or even worse, kneeling down in front of them in a show of “solidarity” - which just shows we now have a Police Service instead of a Police Force. Utterly farcical behaviour and the Metropolitan Police Commissioner should be ashamed, and if she does not resign ...

So depressing to watch this from afar, but no doubt far worse if you actually live in the UK, where it would appear to be a crime to be white and educated. And the Main Stream Media ... I cannot bring myself to comment on their bias.

Four years ago today ...

On this day, four years ago, I posted the following on Facebook and still believe what I wrote was prescient.

What a day ... and what a surprise ... and what a disaster. It appears that the "have nots" (who unsurprisingly do not like the status quo) have decided to stick it to the establishment.

In the end everyone will suffer, as the economy and the pound takes a battering for who knows how long. The shockwaves will be felt long after this earthquake, and only then will the disadvantaged find that they have slit their own throats.

It is without doubt that the poor will get poorer, as benefits are slashed and wages do not rise. There will still be as many immigrants in the country next year and in the future, and so few seem to realise that most western European countries need immigrants to come and work, and pay taxes, and spend money because there are not enough young people to pay for the ever-increasing cost of benefits, pensions and the whole of the Welfare State.

It is already too late to say "I told you so" and I would love to be proved wrong but ... the British people will be reaping what they have sown for generations to come. As far as self-inflicted wounds go, this is historical.

Of course, that was written without knowing that Coronavirus would strike the world, and send economies into a recession and slowly but surely a severe depression that no one could imagine. I fear for Britain as the way in which the economic disaster has been handled has been little short of disastrous. The “furlough” scheme was (and at the most enormous expense) a way in which the inevitable landslide of redundancies and massive unemployment was delayed for a few months.

Already the financial press is reporting companies both large and small are gearing up to make staff redundant as the partial cost of “furloughing” is to be paid by them. By October the scheme ends and I dread to think how much it will have cost the country (in borrowed billions) and how many millions will be thrown to the cold embrace of universal credit. The austerity of the past decade will pale into insignificance as the Welfare State is cut, and with the inevitable increase in taxation, there will be unbelievable poverty across the land.

Surely it would have been better to have bitten the bullet, accepted there was going to be a massive downturn and subsequent unemployment, and used the money that has been borrowed and “created” (good old Quantitative Easing) to retrain the workforce and perhaps indulge in a little Keynesian economics. It seems a long time since my ‘A’ level Economics (1969) but borrowing to delay inevitable unemployment is surely as economically illiterate as borrowing to pay back a loan. Utter lunacy.

In fact a combination of coronavirus and Brexit will sink the country. And it is not too late to extend the transition period and even rejoin the EU. But, of course, the present cabinet - surely the least intelligent and most incompetent in British history - will not admit they were wrong and change course. And so H.M.S. Great Britain will steam ahead even though the rocks ahead are visible.

An “open relationship” is proposed by Ann ...

Strange times at Castle Douglas, when my darling wife proposed that we begin an “open relationship” ... PAUSE FOR BREATH ... when we play Online Monopoly on our iPads. We play Monopoly with each other but then I discovered you could play online with strangers. How exciting is that? But is it disloyal? No longer it would seem.

Playing online games does help to take our minds off the disaster that is unfolding in the UK with the Black Lives Matter. Weak and ineffectual policing, lack of dynamic political leadership, and people who have been locked away for weeks and weeks ... a recipe for rioting (and no doubt looting in due course) and public disorder. The focus on statues and their links to slavery is absurd. Unless you live in the dystopian world of George Orwell’s 1984, history cannot be changed.

“Every record has been destroyed or falsified, every book rewritten, every picture has been repainted, every statue and street building has been renamed, every date has been altered. And the process is continuing day by day and minute by minute. History has stopped. Nothing exists except an endless present in which the Party is always right.”

Those rioting probably do not realise that, due to the campaigning of William Wilberforce, slavery was banned across the British Empire. Enforcement took twenty-five years and was achieved with a loss of the lives of 17,000 British sailors.

Cyprus again is gradually easing their lockdown and it appears to all intents and purposes that complacency has set in. Social distancing seems to be completely ignored, masks and gloves are no longer evident, and it is as if the virus has never existed. Tourist flights are slowly beginning again and the hospitality industry is hoping and praying to rescue something from this holiday season. Whether, as I suspect, this will lead to an explosion of the virus - only time will tell. But if it does, then the last three months will have been for nothing.

All we can do is cross our fingers.

Yes, Prime Minister?

Ye Gods! I thought I had seen it all until Boris Johnson’s appearance in front of the Parliamentary Liaison Committee yesterday. It was a combination of a master class in obfuscation, combined with an incredible ignorance - rather like the schoolboy who has not done his learning homework. Ann and  I watched with some anger and incredulity at his “performance”, his lack of preparation and his inarticulacy.

It was apparent that - looking at his dead eyes - his illness had knocked all the stuffing out of him. He could neither concentrate nor “think on his feet”. It would be a kindness for him to step down for six months or as long as it takes for him to recover fully. No doubt Michael Gove is in the wings with his stiletto poised.

We decided to have a hand rail installed by the side of our Roman steps that lead into the pool. Bearing in mind Winston Churchill and his “ACTION THIS DAY” approach I went to the local pool shop to talk to Andreas. He showed me the hand rail he sells, and I took photographs for Ann to look at. This morning we went back to the shop for Ann to see the hand rail in real life. Three hours later Andreas arrived to fit them. Not cheap but really worthwhile.

We broke cover for the first time in months on Monday. Ann had her long-awaited appointment (and my goodness what a fabulous cut) with her hairdresser, and afterwards we were driving home along the coast road and I suggested stopping for a cheeky pint. Very cool in the pub garden, with a gentle breeze, and my first taste of Old Speckled Hen in three months. A very pleasant afternoon, with a chat to the landlord who talked about his hopes and fears for the near future. Fingers crossed ...

A nasty scare ...

Last Thursday morning I woke up with a very sore throat. It became steadily worse and I reached for my grandmother’s remedy of gargling warm salty water. This didn’t improve the situation and so we went down to the local pharmacy to buy some industrial-strength gargling solution and some painkillers. I was finding it very difficult to swallow and I couldn’t eat even the softest of food.

Friday and I felt as if my tongue had swollen, and I had swallowed broken glass. It’s not in our DNA to rush off to the doctors and so I soldiered on. Sleep was impossible as my mouth filled with saliva, which I could not swallow.

By Saturday I needed some help so we rang the medical centre where my GP is based and were told to come over at ten o’clock. It was empty and the young Dr Maria (as opposed to the older Dr Maria) was there. She questioned and examined me and thought it must be a throat infection of some sort and proposed antibiotics ... but being a junior doctor she telephoned my GP who insisted I saw an ENT consultant.

Being a Saturday this was a problem and each of the GESY ENT specialists was not working. So with a referral we headed off to Paphos General Hospital (having made arrangements for our lovely dog-sitter to come and look after Daisy). When we arrived the Emergency Department it was like an armed camp and I thought at one stage that Ann was going to end up having a firm and frank exchange of views with the triage nurse.

But I was registered and spent the next couple of hours waiting to be seen. A very pleasant young doctor took me off to be examined and said he thought I had a kidney infection, and so I was put on oxygen, a drip and had a very large injection in the backside. An hour later, and there was a change of shift, and a female doctor came to enquire whether the pain in my kidneys had subsided. When I explained that I had not been in pain there, she told me there was no ENT consultant on call.

Shortly afterwards she announced there was a consultant in Limassol on call and he might come out at some time. She also suggested that I might have to be admitted as she did not know when he would arrive. Ann and I decided she would drive home and we would see what we would see. Off she went and ten minutes later a young ENT consultant arrived who had driven from Limassol and really enjoyed the ride on his big motor bike.

He examined me and shoved a camera down my throat to make sure there was no abscess. There wasn’t and he announced he could see the infection. So a prescription for antibiotics, steroids and a magic spray for the pain in my throat was handed over. I rang Ann who was not really up for driving back to Paphos and so she arranged a horrendously expensive taxi to pick me up.

Too late to get the prescription filled we waited until Sunday and off she went to get the stuff I needed. The magic spray worked wonders and I was able to take the antibiotics and the steroid straight away. With more of the magic spray I started to rehydrate and take some food.

By Monday morning I had managed some upright sleep and by the afternoon I was feeling much better. Food and drink are a marvellous restorative, and I slept well on Monday night. By Tuesday I was as right as rain, although tired, and we both managed to talk about the fears we both had that I had caught the dreaded virus - which I hadn’t. A frightening time but “all’s well that ends well”. Keep safe everybody.

Waste not, want not ...

Some weeks ago, at about the beginning of our period of self-isolation, we looked at the amount of food that we were wasting. A Shepherd’s Pie would be eaten one evening, and then put into the fridge, with a view to eating the remainder at some time in the near future. Inevitably other meals were cooked and the remainder of the Shepherd’s Pie would be thrown away.

And so we decided we would not waste food (whilst so many people in Cyprus were relying on food banks) and a new deal surfaced. The remains of evening meals were combined with other bits and pieces, and the end result was some lovely and unexpected combinations. Half a tin of baked beans (left over from breakfast) would be combined with a pasta sauce (I always make too much) and reheated with Basmati rice, and a couple of boiled onions. Delicious.

We won’t solve the world’s food shortage but it does mean that what we buy is what we use. Money saved has been used to furnish basic food supplies for a local group who provide hot meals for people in the area who have fallen on very hard times due to the pandemic. Our lovely local kiosk (a sort of mini-market) put the food supplies together and delivered them to the collection point at the bowling alley (I know) and all we needed to do was pay them by card. Interestingly they refuse money and only accept food and other necessary items. So total transparency and no “what happened to the money I donated?” questions.

It is eight weeks since we decided to self-isolate and the slight easing of restrictions by the government will be welcome. Slowly, slowly ...

A cloudy day today and then what looks like sunshine and blue skies going on and on, according to the weather forecast. Ann and I are celebrating a joint birthday on May 12th (I unilaterally moved my birthday to May this year as it was too cold and wet at the end of February) I suppose in future years I could have a birthday and then an official birthday (rather like the Queen). Now there’s a thought.

A new blogger ...

My darling wife has decided to blog about our life here in Cyprus. It’s a series of musings from our garden here. No doubt her take on life here will be different to mine and may well be illuminating. You can access her blog at musingsfromacyprusgarden.blogspot.com

Have a look and see what you think ...

Stoicism and the lockdown ...

Well we have now been self-isolating for nearly forty days and we are still here - alive and kicking. If this scenario goes on until December 2021 (according to a statement from a minister in the government here) then the economy will be ruined for a generation. Cyprus depends on international tourism and confidence in flying to destinations in the sun will be low. But the alternative is to ease restrictions too early and allow the virus to flourish. This is not a decision I would like to make.

In the meantime the sun shines and we can feel summer approaching. There is a danger that we sit in our ivory tower thinking things are not too bad, whilst Cypriots across the island face destitution and financial ruin. Being a great believer in Stoicism, we ask ourselves if there is anything we can do to change matters. As things stand, we cannot and Stoics believe you should not worry about matters you cannot influence. But that is easier said than done.

We have been keeping ourselves busy - Ann more than me - and as a result our garden has never looked more lovely. Mornings tend to be when we do things and afternoons tend to be for relaxing, and having the occasional glass or two. Our experiments in the world of cookery become slightly more adventurous as time passes.

Our plantings of spring onions, chilli, courgettes, strawberries and tomatoes may not make us self-sufficient but it is marvellous to see things grow. Strawberries and ice cream for breakfast the other days was hedonistic in the extreme.

23 days and counting ...

So we have been self-isolating for 23 days now and it is instructive to see how the rest of Cyprus and also the UK is reacting to increased restrictions on movement. To us it seems that a considerable proportion of people in both countries are just not following the “instructions” their government is issuing. The result here in Cyprus is that for the second time in a fortnight the government has issued stricter proclamations. The end result is that people who were obeying the original proclamation have now had their freedom further restricted by the actions of the thoughtless and the entitled.

What a pity. Anyone with half a brain cell can surely understand that this pandemic is potentially fatal - if not to them, then to their family and friends. There has always appeared to be a part of the Cypriot mentality that means people only obey laws if they think they are either sensible or likely to be enforced. Driving to Polis to shop at 06.45 in the morning and the coast road was akin to a Grand Prix.

I like to feel we have dealt with this curfew well and we have behaved sensibly. And, of course, we enjoy our own company which is a bonus. We are experimenting with all sorts of cooking and the shelf of Jamie Oliver cookbooks is being delved into more than we might have expected. We also set ourselves a target of not wasting any food at all, and so all sorts of leftovers are being recruited for experimental cookery.

As the weather becomes warmer then the easier it will be for us to enjoy having “fun in the sun” which was our raison d’être in moving to this beautiful island. It should be warm enough to swim in the pool in about five to six weeks, and that will be a daily pleasure until October. I trust that by then the restrictions will be lifted but in my heart of hearts I fear it will be more like this time next year before life returns to something like normalcy.

Businesses (especially anything related to the tourist industry) may not survive and others may struggle for years to come. Tourism requires trust and many people will not willingly step onto an aircraft or board a cruise liner for a long, long time. But, with optimism and sense, mankind will come through this crisis.

Self-isolation ...

We decided, before the Cyprus government made its lockdown decision, that we would self-isolate as we are in the age group that is deemed vulnerable. Since that time we have shopped twice (larger shops than we normally do), been to the pharmacy once to collect medication, and I have walked Daisy most days. We have also made a couple of visits to our local nursery, which Ann decided were essential. In order to legally leave the house, we text a government service and receive permission about twenty seconds later. When we are out, we must have the mobile phone with the text message on, and our passports.

Do we feel this is draconian? Not a bit ... if the virus is to be survived then certain freedoms need to be temporarily removed. Are we bored? Not really. When the sun shines, and we sit outside by the pool, then that’s what we would normally be doing. Our cookbooks are scoured for all sorts of dishes we have not tried before, and YouTube videos are devoured - which makes us hungry.

We listen to music most of the time and have dipped into all sorts of tv programmes. The bar has been known to open at odd times of the day. A friend in the UK posted something which suggested half the people would become much better in the kitchen and the other half would develop a drink problem. How true.

What can I add?

I have thought long and hard about blogging, with the COVID19 pandemic circling the world. I grieve at the news from countries I have visited and loved, and always have to keep an eye on what is happening in my homeland - the UK.

I watch the news broadcasts and YouTube videos of (in the main) younger Britons behaving badly in foreign lands. They congregate and get drunk, they disobey the rules of the country they are in - and bring shame on the rest of us. London and the big cities are under the spotlight and I watch with incredulity at the behaviour of (mainly) young people who are acting as if this is all some sort of game.

Panic buying seems to be a particularly British phenomenon. The long queues from early in the morning, the storming of the supermarkets and the stupid, inane, stockpiling going on beggars belief. I can see martial law, and rationing, and a host of other draconian restrictions being imposed by a “liberal” Tory government. And these people will have brought this on themselves.

Cyprus remains calm, with the government closing our borders, all flights have stopped and everyone has had a text message from the Ministry of Health forbidding unnecessary travel. Almost everything has closed down and only essential stores remain open - supermarkets, kiosks, petrol stations, pharmacies and business selling takeaway food which can be delivered. Self-help groups have sprung up all over the place, pledging to deliver food and medication to those who should not or cannot leave home.

What have we done? Nine days ago we decided to self-isolate for the sake of our health. We shopped well but sensibly (no shortages here), and locked our gates. We had to let our lovely Filipino cleaner go, but have maintained our pool man. We leave the house to collect medication and to buy fresh vegetables, milk and other essentials. We are isolated of course and it is easier to be content with our lovely house, garden and pool (once we get to May). For the rest we have always been happiest with each other’s company, but miss our friends and social life.

I can’t see matters improving until this time next year at the earliest and trust you all remain safe and well.

Wood, wood, wood ...

We have been well-served with firewood for our log burner over the last fourteen months and Andreas would arrive at out house with one or two cubic metres of lemonwood, stack it all beautifully and at a good price. Imagine our surprise when I asked him for a delivery and he told me he was out of stock until September. In the end he managed a final cubic metre and we were set for the cold weather forecast.

To be on the safe side we decided to order wood from another source, only to be told they were out of stock as well. Our local pub, which has a log burner, were also told their local supplier was out of stock. It has been a long winter.

And so, eventually after some research, we found that the supplier of our log burner sold wood. It turns out that they sell “kiln dried” oak logs. Slightly more expensive but we determined we would not be cold. Delivery took a couple of hours and a large builder’s bag of oak arrived and was placed delicately on our drive.

You cannot believe our experience with this wood. It burned hotter and hotter (so much more than the seasoned lemonwood we had been so pleased with), it burned more slowly and - by the end of the evening - we had burned about half of what we normally use

So two things for those who follow our great adventure. Cypriot houses in winter are cold and damp, so install a good log burner. And buy kiln-dried wood ... and you will be as warm as toast. Roll on the summer.

Windchill ...

It has been ever so slightly chilly in the last few days, and it has actually been quite a cold winter so far. With overnight temperatures forecast to fall to 1°C this weekend we are not actually planning to go far. This morning when we woke up I got out of a warm bed (electric blanket on overnight setting, and with the heavy duvet on the bed) to do one or two things. Additional heat was supplied by Daisy, who had snuggled up between us and Honey (who thought lying on my feet was quite the thing to do). I came out of the bedroom and it was cold. As regular readers of this blog know, Cypriot houses tend to have poor or no insulation, and the marble tiles on the floor don’t make things any warmer.

A plan of action was required ... and it involved heating the house and snuggling down. Food and drink were plentiful, the Six Nations’ Rugby was on television and we had plenty of wood with which to feed the log burner. So an expedition out to the log pile was decreed, whilst Ann sorted out kindling and cleaned the filter on the “ash vac”. And then into action to clean up the log burner, lay the fire and set it alight. Fifteen minutes later we were feeling warmer and are set for the day.

Breakfast was sliced avocado (from the avocado grove at the end of our track), toast (we are quite the millennials, you know) with a poached egg on top. A protein feast if ever there was one, and ClassicFM on the radio, and it’s only 10.30 in the morning. With “freezing” weather forecast we shall stay in the bunker until the “All Clear” is sounded.

The world seems to have gone quite mad with the news that Coronavirus has emerged from China, and a few hundred people have died. Desperately sad, but I read in the New York Times recently that ten thousand people died last winter in the USA from influenza. So a sense of overkill seems to be prevalent at the moment. I know Spanish Flu killed fifty million people after the First World War but there is a world of difference from that disaster to this event.

As my 67th birthday accelerates towards me, the death of Kirk Douglas (aged 103) made me stop and think. I have always joked that I intend to live forever, but then I considered what life must be like when you are that age. A friend of ours years ago commented on the fact that there were so many elderly expats on Cyprus, and that he saw another one every time he looked in the mirror. Food for thought methinks.

The Return of ...

Well I’m stunned ... our oven has been repaired and is being returned this afternoon. It’s only been five weeks. We have become masters of the gas hob, the slow cooker and the microwave. I just hope we haven’t forgotten how to use an electric oven.

What a palaver! Ann and I almost said “Sod it” and went off to buy a replacement oven. This oven is about fifteen years old and parts were almost impossible to come by but Andreas, the man who apparently can repair anything electrical, has eventually found the parts. It will certainly make cooking easier - scouring recipe books to find things to cook in a slow cooker was fun to begin with and then just a bit of a bind.

The weather is grey and dull at the moment, although not as cold as last week. We cheer ourselves up with the guarantee of months of blue skies and sunshine (when no doubt we shall find it too hot), but we wouldn’t be British if we didn’t talk about the weather.

We have been back and forwards to Paphos recently (hospital trips and shopping for things we cannot find in Polis). I suppose it is a good thing that we have a large shopping centre forty-five minutes away but I’m a country boy at heart and would hate to live there. Kamikaze drivers are lurking around every corner (and they are not all Cypriots by any means) and it is marvellous to be driving out of town and heading for home.

We are both in rude good health, thank heaven, and long may that continue. The dry, warm weather for most of the year must help. In 2008 I was in hospital for a serious operation, and the cretinous nurse “looking after” me forgot to lock the bed. I sat down, the bed skated away and I hurt my knee badly. There was a bit of a fuss and doctors appeared mysteriously from all sorts of places. Scans and X-rays were ordered and then a very senior doctor came to tell me that the pain in my knee was not the result of my accident but early-onset arthritis. What a load of utter bollocks. I suppose they were terrified that I would reach for my lawyer.

Twelve years on there is no sign of the alleged arthritis. And this was at the hospital where I developed MRSA and spent a month there, not being aware how close to death I was. The NHS is lauded all over the place but not by me. To be fair the plumbing they did (coronary triple bypass) has worked brilliantly. But when I was returned to the coronary ward I was surrounded by familiar faces - all of whom had picked up an infection of one sort or another.

And Boris wants to shovel untold millions into the bottomless pit ...

Single figure temperatures ...

Well I suppose it had to happen ... the weather, which has been very wet, is drying up and the forecast is for evening temperatures to be in single figures. In fact on Friday of this week the temperature will fall to 2°C. It is reported that snow in the Troodos is 79 cm deep. Brrr!

I saw a lovely “meme” on Facebook which said that Christmas was now over and I’m ready for summer. Well it’s not quite the same for us. Of course we get fed up when it rains and the temperature drops, but know that months and months of blue skies and sunshine is only a few weeks away. But we wouldn’t be British if we didn’t talk about the weather.

I’ve been watching the South Africa v England test matches on television and it is a perverse pleasure watching cricket under blue skies whilst we have the log burner on. And to make matters even more confusing the Six Nations’ Rugby Championship starts in February. We have often commented that it is not always clear what day of the week it is (and that isn’t the early stages of dementia) but that it really doesn’t matter what day it is, unless you want to go to the bank (which we don’t).

We are still without an oven (and that is a long, long story) but hope that it will return in full working order this week. We have become expert in creating food in the slow cooker, aided by a number of cookery books we have acquired recently. Ann, in particular, has produced some marvellous dishes with the help of Jamie Oliver’s “Veg” cookbook. If you want to cut down on eating meat (which I suspect everyone does from time to time) then this book is highly recommended. We were initially put off as Amazon wanted to charge us as much for shipping as the cost of the book itself. But a kind member of our expat forum ordered it to be delivered free to his address in the UK (as he was going back there) and then brought it back to Cyprus with him. We had a clandestine meeting outside of Lidl in Paphos where the goods were exchanged for cash. The goods were, as you might expect, in a plain brown paper bag.

As promised ...

2020 is here and we embrace the future with relish in this golden land. This our eighth New Year in Cyprus and, although there have been some hiccups in the last eighteen months, we survived and intend to prosper.

With the political turmoil in the UK seemingly arrested for the moment I would imagine all British citizens living in the EU will be considering their options. Do we trust Boris Johnson to protect our interests? Not at all. Like health in Cyprus, you must ensure you take responsibility. Don’t expect the all-embracing care of the NHS. Will the U.K. abandon its citizens and no longer take responsibility for expat healthcare? Nobody knows and I suspect nobody trusts the government to honour its obligations.

To counter this, we applied for and received “permanent residence” here with the MEU3 form. The Cyprus government makes this available to EU citizens after five years of residence. It cost us some money to get it all sorted but worth every cent. We are also registered with GESY, which is the new health system here. At the moment the U.K. government pays for that (via the S1) but, if not, we can still remain in the system if we pay 2.7% of our income - which is considerably cheaper than private health insurance.

Of course it may all turn out as hoped but we are prepared for the worst. Tory, Labour, Lib Dem - they are all equally untrustworthy and we go ahead on that premise.

Onwards and upwards.