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.