Oh the irony …

 Those who know me will remember that I have a pathological fear of needles, and I’ve had a few needles shoved into me over the years. So, after six months, I accessed the Online Portal for Vaccinations so that I could receive my Covid booster. Wonder if wonders, it allowed me to book an appointment at Polis Hospital for this Friday. Joy! Joy! Oh fuck! I’m celebrating the opportunity to realise one of my worst fears so that someone can stick a needle in my arm.

Cyprus swings from competence to utter incompetence when it comes to dealing with the pandemic, but we cope with the swings and roundabouts. We watch with incredulity the lack of adherence to regulations by both Cypriots and expats. Today we popped out for a drink and watched people completely ignore masks and SafePass restrictions. And why, for heaven’s sake, do people (in a large area) want to sit next to us?

Winter is nibbling at us. We can still sit outside until the sun goes down, but - as almost all Cypriot houses have no insulation - you need some form of reliable heating. Unless you have central heating, which is alleged to be ruinously expensive - then a log burner is the way forward. Gas heaters create damp, condensation and mould (and are not brilliant for people with asthma or other respiratory problems) and air conditioning dries everything out. So plan for a log burner, find a reliable supplier of hardwood, and enjoy the winters here.

Don’t listen to the slightly absurd “fact” that Cyprus enjoys 300+ days of sunshine a year. For three months a year you want to be warm and comfortable.

That was an eventful summer …

 We don’t do things by half, especially in Cyprus. On a sunny afternoon in Paphos, we had two doctors’ appointments (one each) and - unfortunately - there was a lengthy gap between them. No problem. We would go for a light lunch and pass the time in a civilised fashion. 

Parking was a slight problem, so I dropped Ann off near the entrance to the restaurant and told her I would park somewhere and walk back. I suggested she take her walking stick but the distance was short and she decided against it. I parked the car in a side street and saw Ann walking towards me, saying she had forgotten her mask. I told her I would get it, went back to the car and turned back to meet her. Suddenly she disappeared and gave a cry for help. 

All I could see was parked cars and a car that had stopped in the middle of the road, with the driver getting out. I was momentarily convinced she had been knocked down, but saw she was sprawled on the pavement. There was a fair amount of blood, she had lost a tooth, her chin was bleeding, her knees were skinned and one toe looked battered. Ann was determined to tell me that the driver had just stopped to help (possibly fearing her enraged husband might do something imprudent).

A Cypriot man and woman appeared from separate houses with water, paper towels and all helped to clean Ann up, and eventually she regained her feet. The woman wanted to call an ambulance but we did not fancy submitting to the tender mercies of Paphos General Hospital. We thanked them all profusely and decided to drive back to Polis and visit our medical centre. We rang ahead and also rang and cancelled my later appointment.

Ann was patched up by the practice nurse, and we returned to see doctors a couple of nights later. X-rays were taken and we were advised to return to see the orthopaedic consultant who visited weekly. To cut a long story short, Ann ended up having both arms in plaster for the next six weeks. Consequently I had to run the house (shopping, cooking, washing etc.) and do almost everything for her as well. She must have been very fed up but was quite stoical about it all.

Plasters removed eventually and then straight off to have her second cataract procedure. This was an astounding success and she has now joined the land of the sighted (with excellent colour vision as a bonus).

As a result my blog went into abeyance. Added to which, my first novel - “Bridges over the Tyne” - was progressing apace, so writing time was at a premium. All in all it was not a summer to remember but we got through it with the help of some extremely skilled medical help. Don’t believe all you read about the standards of medical care in Cyprus. Use your Personal Doctor as a conduit to specialist services, and try to keep away from the public hospitals … they appear to be in the grip of the unions. Private hospitals (available under GESY) are excellent.

Eyeless in Gaza or …

 Ann is now in the firm and warm embrace of plaster covering both right and left wrists and forearms, as she has fractured bones to protect. Very swift and effective consultations and CT scans, and then further consultation with her orthopaedic surgeon - who only asked, as he was plastering the second wrist, whether Ann was a driver. Fortunately she had her personal driver waiting in the car outside.

So, for the next five weeks, she is very much unable to do much. We are a good team and we have managed to work around many of he difficulties she has been undergoing. Showering was fun, and a pair of waterproof arm covers (designed for just this eventuality) proved a godsend. My cooking is passing muster but we were both grateful that our new cleaner started on Thursday and did an excellent job. And, the gardening crew covered themselves in glory by doing another excellent job and returning to construct and paint our new kitchen island.

It is only at times like this that people surprise you. We have had more than a couple of offers to do the shopping for us, and all sorts of people we would not have expected to be sympathetic have proved us wrong. A big thank you to all who have stepped up to offer help. We appreciate it - especially as we do not find it easy to accept offers of help.

Infections continue to rise on a daily basis here, and the animosity being exhibited between the vaccinated and the unvaccinated is being orchestrated in ways which do not strike me as subtle. We are both vaccinated, and hope all we meet will be similarly protected. But … and it is a big but … you cannot insist that people be injected with a revolutionary concoction against their wishes. With the so-called Safepass being insisted upon for entry into many places here, the pressure to be vaccinated is immense.

I, for one, am not happy about this. What next? Yellow stars sewn onto the clothing of the unvaccinated, followed by numbers tattooed onto their skins for identification. World wars were fought for less.

Hard landings …

 We have always said that Cyprus is a tough place to fall over, and Tuesday proved that beyond measure. We were in Paphos for Ann to go to St George’s Hospital, and then planned to go to Paphos Home Market, and then Kolios butchers, before I called in to the Blue Cross Hospital to pick up a repeat prescription.

Of course the best laid plans … and we decided to have a light lunch to fill in the time between hospital appointments. I dropped Ann off near the café we planned to visit and went off to park the car. A couple of minutes later she appeared in the side street I had parked in. She had forgotten her mask. There was a cry, she disappeared and all I saw was a car in the middle of the road with the driver standing beside it. Ann had tripped on a broken paving slab and had taken a very heavy fall. The young man in the car had seen what had happened and had stopped to help.

Ann was on the ground in considerable distress. She had hit her head, and in so doing had lost a tooth. There were abrasions and a nasty wound under the chin (where her “angel wings” had penetrated the skin), and her knees and a toe were looking the worst for wear. A man appeared from a nearby house and a woman from further down the street with kitchen roll and water. They helped patch Ann up and clear some of the blood away. The woman wanted to call for an ambulance but I preferred to take Ann back to Polis (we have both experienced less than tender loving care at Paphos General Hospital in the past).

Polis Medical Centre was open and Ann’s wounds were cleaned and dressed. The nurse, who could not have been more caring and competent, asked us to return in the evening to see the doctors to check all was well. We returned in the evening, X-rays were taken (suspected hairline fracture on left wrist), and that was dressed carefully. A salutary experience which could have been so much worse.

A week later and Ann is looking and feeling much better, although her bruises are interesting. We return to Polis Medical Centre tonight for an orthopaedic surgeon to check her wrists. We hope that the hairline fracture (if it was such a thing) will have healed in the last seven days, and that life can start to return to some sort of “normal”.

COVID infections have gone to record levels here with the government unwilling to take the appropriate steps to reduce them. Whatever happens the tourist season here will be a shadow of its former self and much hardship will result. Between the health of the population and the recovery of the economy is a hard place to be in. As in much of this beautiful land, it is a hard place to fall.

Another snakebite …

 Our two rescue cats, Honey and Jaz, were - we were told - sisters. But after eight years it is obvious that Jaz is Honey’s daughter, and that Honey must have been very young when Jaz was born. They have lived with us for over eight years and we wouldn’t be without them. But Jaz has now diced with death three times and it is never easy when a beloved pet is ill.

On Monday morning she came in distress and making an almost continuous mewling sound. She was limping and obviously in pain. The obvious conclusion was that she had encountered a snake (again) and had come off worst. After a struggle we got her into the car carrier and raced off to Yiaanis (our vet in Polis). He came to the same conclusion and two injections later, and a squirt of antibiotics into her mouth, and we proceeded slightly more sedately back home. All she wanted to do was snuggle down and sleep, and so that was what she did. Further antibiotics and an early night followed.

Tuesday morning and she was no longer limping and was quite lively so no need to go back to the vets. We had bought a new cat carrier on Monday afternoon, as the old one was falling to bits.

This followed on from Daisy’s two vet visits (one with a sharp piece of grass up the nose, and then later an ear infection (when I was in hospital). Ann, as always, coped admirably. But, within the space of a few weeks, our beloved girls had cost us more than €400. Of course they are worth every cent, but perhaps they might have a more considerate summer to avoid more damage to our bank account.

Tomorrow I am ordering an integral Bluetooth keyboard for my iPad. We have already rearranged the study, and there is a beautiful Edwardian captain’s chair, a new desktop fan and soon a semi-permanent iPad station for the writing of my magnum opus. All sorts of ideas and plots and characters are swirling around and I am looking forward to my writing. I’ll keep you up to date with the progress, or lack of it. I am told a cold Keo is the perfect antidote to writer’s block.

What a few weeks …

 Well nothing is very dull in Cyprus … or not for very long. As we have been dealing with Ann’s cataract procedure and its aftermath (eye drops, daily, for four weeks), and a very successful procedure it was, my medical problems came to the fore. Numerous visits to the Polis Medical Centre, and consultations with all the doctors there, produced temporary solutions but the problem persisted.

Finally it was decided I would be referred to a gastroenterologist and a colonoscopy  would be required. I wasn’t thrilled by the prospect (any intrusion into my body is not great) but the problem needed to be resolved. A phone call from the medical centre suggested I present myself to Paphos General Hospital Emergency Department. I flatly refused as both Ann and I have had unpleasant and unprofessional treatment there on more than one occasion.

Mary, the magnificent administrator at the medical centre, told me she would ring me back. A couple of hours later it was agreed that I would go to a private hospital (the Blue Cross in Paphos) where I would be admitted so that the outpatient queue to consult a gastroenterologist could be bypassed. I saw the lovely Dr Antony, an internal medicine consultant, and he admitted me. There would be a five-day wait until the colonoscopy but that was a small price to pay. My room had two beds and after a day a pleasant Englishman, Jim, was admitted. Someone to chat to.

On the fifth day I was taken to St George’s - a sister private hospital - by ambulance and the procedure took place. Returning to the Blue Cross, the gastroenterologist bounced into the room to announce they had not found any cancer. Well that was good news. A CT scan of the abdomen followed and was clear as well.

Some new medication to control my diabetes and some other tablets which were a safer alternative to the warfarin I was taking. As Dr Antony told me that too low an INR level and I would have a stroke and too high an INR level and I would have a heart attack. Goodbye warfarin … I’m not missing you.

And then, a couple of weeks after my return home, at about eight o’clock in the evening the gastroenterologist rang Ann and asked that we see him at the hospital at four o’clock the next day. “Not bad news” he stressed. We nervously presented ourselves and he told me that he had found the cause of my original problem (from which I had been suffering for months and months). It was a rare problem and would be resolved by a three-month course of corticosteroids. We flew home and Dr Stelios is now on the Christmas card list, alongside Dr Antony. Two very professional consultants, and some lovely staff, and - thanks to GESY - private hospital standards for pocket money.

Always look on the bright side of life ...

As the Monty Python song has it ... and I have been reviewing my recent blogs and found them quite negative and depressing. So a change of tone is called for.

With springtime turning into summer recently, all sorts of thoughts cross our minds. Ann’s fabulous endeavours with plants and vegetables and fruit trees brighten our outlook every time we sit by the pool. Apart from the occasional failure (putting twenty seeds into compost and finding one did not germinate), the raised flower beds (thanks to our gardening crew) and the vision that Ann has shown with the placing of the pots which decorate our front garden, our garden is a delight. 

Months and months of sunshine and blue skies lie in front of us, and the swimming pool should be ready from the middle of May. Our renewed interest in cooking has brought much joy. Breakfast is a conveyor belt of new ideas and tastes. And evening meals are varied and experimental and occasionally more spicy, with all sorts of international influences informing our decisions.

The ability to decide exactly what we do, and more importantly when we do it, is one of the great freedoms that retirement brings. Thank goodness that we are retired or else we would never have time to do what we consider important. I am in the planning stages of two books. The first is a guide to retirement in Cyprus for those intending to follow in our footsteps. It will be a warts and all guide, with large extracts from the forum threads I participated in before and after we arrived. There will be extracts from this blog (where relevant) and - I trust - pertinent advice for those who are waiting to dip their toes into the water.

My second book, which may take somewhat longer, is a crime thriller set in the UK. I have long been a fan of this genre and hope to take a fresh look at this popular writing. The ideas have been mulling about in my head for quite a time. 

So, all in all, we should not be downcast. June 4th seems an age away - that is when my second vaccination takes place. I shall be more relaxed after that has happened. 

And so let “Fun in the Sun” proceed apace.

Out of control ...

 As each day passes the number of infections rises in Cyprus, and a drive to Polis this morning was most instructive. Masks, indoors and out, seem to be optional extras - especially amongst the young. At the supermarket the anti-bacterial bottle was empty and, when I pointed it out to a member of staff, they seemed to be somewhat irritated. Social distancing - forget it. Cafés full to bursting (doesn’t anybody work on a Monday), and a general disinterest in trying to combat the spread of the virus.

Is it any wonder that cases are rising exponentially here? The old “Trumpian” excuse is bandied about. People actually use the excuse that the more tests you do, the more infections you find. Of course. Now think back to why people are being tested. It is to find as many people who are infected and then get them to self-isolate, which will stop them infecting others. Hardly rocket science, I don’t think.

We are not sitting back, feeling smug. To read the forums, and some Facebook pages, all retired expat pensioners don’t care about others who have to make a living. In our ninth year living in Cyprus we worry for the people and the future of the economy. 

The British press are wallowing in the reopening of hospitality venues. I was appalled by the behaviour and mob mentality of the “revellers” and “drinkers”, as they are called, towards the police, who were trying to enforce the unenforceable. One poor PC was mocked and ridiculed by the crowd as he tried to break up a trio who were openly disobeying the guidance. Where are the promised extra 20,000 policemen that Boris promised? One lonely policeman ... ignore and ridicule. Thirty big “coppers” another matter altogether. 

I don’t want to promote a police state but the way in which these mobs behave after drinking far too much is beyond the pale. Am I turning into a grumpy old man? I don’t think so. I would just like them to behave as they are expected to. With the mob mentality and widespread stabbings in certain areas, the UK is not a place I would wish to return to.

They walk among us ...

 And so, in the UK and Cyprus, we have the eternal tug of war between public health and the economy. All of it is perfectly understandable but somewhat misguided. As Arthur Stanton Eric "Arte" Johnson said in Rowan & Martin’s Laugh-in, “Verry interesting ... but stupid.”

The whole argument is fallacious and the greed of business (or perhaps the urgent need for survival) in both countries is astonishing. The CEO of EasyJet broadcast that Greece and Cyprus should be on the UK’s “Green List” and this was just a blatant statement of self-interest. WHAT! The rate of infection in Cyprus is rising and rising. Yet, and the influence of the Church must be behind this, there are no changes before the Easter Weekend. Unbelievable ... just wait until the spike of cases within a week of that holiday. By then, the Cypriot government will have an overwhelmed health service, the airports will be open and there will be infected tourists across the island. Lockdown, and the virtual bankruptcy of the state (remember 2013) will follow.

In the UK I read with utter disbelief that the moronic classes are celebrating as if it is VE Day. Down the pub, sink a few pints and a new demand that the clubs and “venues” are reopened for the rave culture, where these semi-human youngsters want to “rave”. In today’s Guardian, there was an article about reopening large venues ... and one young man expressed that “My whole life revolves around drinking, clubbing, taking as many drugs as I can, and sticking my tongue down the throat of anybody within range.”

As the podcast proclaims, “They walk among us.”

Our main concern is to ensure that we are protected from this virus. Ann has had both vaccinations whilst I wait until early June for my second vaccination. People we know, who are far more vulnerable than us, are legitimately concerned by the behaviour of so many people (both Cypriot and expat) who do not seem to care about people who may die from the virus.

With that, I close this entry to my blog ...

Gentleman’s Relish (Patum Peperium)

 Last Christmas, when we were discussing breakfast, the original suggestion was to have creamy scrambled eggs with anchovies. We love anchovies and the combination was very much to our taste. And then, from the darkest recesses of my memory, I remembered scrambled eggs on toast and the toast was “buttered” (but not with butter) with Gentleman’s Relish. The idea took hold and we searched for it in shops and online.

I posted on Facebook and the ever helpful Catherine Unsworth of https://www.spiceandeasycyprus.com/ came to the rescue. She offered to make a batch and let me be her tester. And so, like a drug deal in a multi-storey car park, we met and the brown paper bag was handed over. I have promised to do a review on this blog (and also on Facebook) with my findings. As I write this, my mouth is salivating.

This is one of the things you find in Cyprus. People, both expats and Cypriots, can overwhelm you with their kindness. In 2013, on Christmas Eve, our car returned home making strange noises and emitting steam. Not being a mechanic I suspected low oil, and rang around people I knew to see if they had any oil. One recently arrived Briton drove around all the petrol stations in Polis to try and source some, with no luck. A Cypriot friend of ours told me not to worry and he would sort things out. Amazingly he arrived on Christmas Day morning, with a mechanic.

They sorted out a temporary repair, decided the car was fit to drive for a few days until garages opened again. I asked Odysseas how much I owed him? He looked offended and would not accept a penny. A couple of days later he arrived in a car, and we took both vehicles to a garage so our car could be repaired. Amazingly generous.

Life in Cyprus can be very, very good.

Elephants ... can’t you see them?

 I have been astonished (not really) by the lack of foresight and forethought exhibited by politicians - and their advisers - in recent times. It almost feels as if they are clueless and, as Boris Johnson is often accused of doing, they do what the last “expert” they speak to tells them. Enormous publicity is given to the vaccine rollout - and the statistics of the dead, dying, infected and the like - but that’s where the elephant is.

The first elephant moment is the much-heralded immunity to coronavirus. The definition of the word is

: the quality or state of being immune especially : a condition of being able to resist a particular disease especially through preventing development of a pathogenic microorganism or by counteracting the effects of its products ...

The man on top of the Clapham omnibus, according to much of the popular press, believes that when he is vaccinated he cannot catch the virus. He also believes that he cannot infect other people, and that he cannot fall ill with the virus. All the preceding beliefs are, of course, not true. 

And so, what is the end result? The youngsters completely ignore the restrictions imposed on them by the government (see photographs of the Easter weekend in many of the newspapers), and everyone is agitating for the country to get back to normal. Vaccine passports are mooted by the government, and the idea rapidly recedes when a backbench resistance is apparent in the Tory party, and the mixed messages continue apace.

There is an understandable desire for people to take holidays in the sun. Cyprus, Greece and other desirable locations announce they are open for business and are bending over backwards to attract British tourists who are believed to want to unleash a torrent of money. The UK government, on the other hand, is unlikely to allow holidays to countries where the number of infections are rising (as they are here) and where vaccinations are proceeding slowly. Whether this is due to the EU’s inefficiency or not is debatable?

Ann has had both her vaccinations, for which we are grateful, and I have had my first but have to wait until June for the second one (a delay prescribed by AstraZeneca). In the following weeks we shall be benefiting from some “immunity” and we are told that if we are infected by the virus, we are less likely to be seriously ill. Open Cyprus to tourists, and that seems the inevitable path being pursued by the government here (under enormous pressure from the hospitality industry), with elections just round the corner, and by Autumn we shall be back into lockdown.

I had a conference with the elephant and he believed that the damage to the economy was a price worth paying. But, of course, he is eternally employed - sitting in on government briefings and laughing his head off. 

And so the cry goes up,

που είναι ο ελέφαντας τώρα

It’s now or never ...

 Has the time come? The age profile of those being offered vaccinations against COVID-19 is gradually getting lower. I read today that this week people over the age of 74 can apply. And then that age will fall and - eventually - we shall be the right age to be vaccinated. The question then is whether we want to be vaccinated or not. It’s such an individual matter. Ann and I, through age and medical history, would be deemed “vulnerable” and that’s good enough for me. I shall bare my arm, grit my teeth and “feel a little prick”. Ann is mulling all this over and I shall support whatever decision she comes to.

I read with incredulity that Cyprus is planning to welcome Israelis with vaccination passports as tourists from the first of April. Something of an appropriate date in my opinion. If that is to be the case then hospitality venues will open and the whole game will begin again. Already there is a sense that the vaccine  has freed people from the obligation of behaving sensibly. I despair of news reports and photographs from both the UK and Cyprus of people not giving a damn about others. “Me, me, me” is the message that is shouted from the tabloid press and the television stations.

Individuals seem to think that if they are low risk, then their lives and freedoms and inalienable rights are more important than anything else. Given that the western world (or at least those parts that are wealthy enough to purchase the vaccines) will be vaccinated by the end of 2021, it begs the question why life cannot be put on hold for a few months longer.

There is a moral question here of course - yet another elephant lurking in the room. It is something of a truism that “No one is safe until everyone is safe”. The wealthier nations have been buying up enormous stocks of vaccines, whilst the third world is being cast adrift. Someone in The Guardian this morning suggested this would result in wealthier nations (mostly with majority white populations) closing their borders to black and brown (and may as well include Asian) people who would not have the inevitable vaccination passports. Horrifying yet perhaps with a grain of truth.

Last brick in the wall ...

 Well, we have done it ... we have crossed the final bureaucratic hurdle to ensure we can continue to live here in Cyprus. We acquired our MEU3 documents, joined GESY, registered for tax (and to add insult to injury I actually had to pay tax last year), and now have bright, shiny Cyprus driving licences to replace our UK ones. We have a Cyprus bank account, pay car tax, our MOT certificates are up to date, and our car insurance is always paid. This is not a virtue-signalling exercise on our part. It is more an illustration of the hurdles you face - nothing insurmountable but it can be time-consuming.

At the moment we are in something of an Indian summer (if one can coin that phrase in winter in Cyprus), but it is all change from the middle of next week with single figure daytime temperatures. If you are under feet of snow in the UK, that probably sounds a little insignificant. But after eight years here, it will come as a bit of a shock to us. To be on the safe side we have ordered some more logs from “The Professor”, and they are due to be delivered this weekend.

You cannot imagine the delight we felt when we visited our local supermarket and found items we had been searching for ... and it seems like forever. Rapeseed oil, frozen short crust and puff pastry, frozen hash browns and a pink cleaning fluid that was recommended and works like a dream. We bought a great deal of stuff, and have a delivery this afternoon for other essentials. After that the cupboards will be full, the freezers stuffed with food, and we shall then not have to venture too far once the temperature drops.

Vaccination of the very elderly is slowly taking place, but the number of vaccines is small - well played the EU. I suspect we shall be offered one eventually but I am not holding my breath. Infections have fallen under the current restrictions but not far enough in my opinion. Driving through Polis or Paphos it is noticeable how few people are obeying the government decrees, and there is a sense of how fed up people are becoming. But as a friend of mine wrote on Facebook recently, “If you don’t like wearing a mask, imagine how you’ll feel on a ventilator.”

Comme ci, comme ça

 The news that the Cyprus government is probably going to open the airports on March 1st, and start to relax restrictions at the beginning of February, hardly fills us with joy. The rate of infection is falling, but is this anything to do with the number of tests being taken? Ask any statistician and you won’t be surprised by the answer.

Vaccinations are few and far between on the island, and this can be linked to the EU’s rather slow start to ordering vaccines - especially when the French vaccine (so touted by their Mighty Mouse president) has proved to be not yet effective. He gives a whole new meaning to “Short Man Syndrome”, and come to think of it Boris is not very tall either.

So we do feel upbeat and downcast in equal measure. Hence the “Comme ci, comme ça” of the title. We are safe and as secure as we can be, but there is irritation in not being able to shop for non-essentials, and having to text for permission to leave the house. In the grand scale of things these are inconsequential when people are having to go to food banks and charity shops in order to survive. It reminds me of a comment made a few months ago about “It’s fine for you two with your fat British pensions.” This comment came from a British expat, who has lived illegally here for a number of years “under the radar” not paying into the Social Fund and not declaring his cash income for tax purposes. No doubt he was still using his EHIC for medical treatment. 

Quo Vadis? I have no sympathy for these cheats (and there are plenty of them) in this area, who willingly defraud the Cypriot economy upon which we all depend. When you fall foul of the inevitable restrictions on illegal residents, we’ll all shout out,”What a shame!”

In the bleak midwinter ...

 After weeks and weeks of glorious weather through November, December and the first part of January, winter came calling this week. And, my goodness, it was cold. The mornings are fine as we have tasks to do. Once we get dressed, it is clearing out the log burner (thanks goodness for our trusty “ash vac”) and cleaning the glass door. We had been buying a special (and expensive) spray to do this from Ambioenergy in Polis, and that certainly did the job. But Ann had a magic, and very cheap, spray for the kitchen - and it works just as well. Result.

Domestic tasks normally involve unloading the dishwasher, and quite often reloading it after breakfast so that the decks are clear. There is wood to bring in from the log pile outside the back door, which is a job we normally share. Then set the fire, and - and this is a must - clean the “ash vac” filter. If you don’t, it will sulk and not work the next day. Quite often there is cooking in the morning. We have been making various soups to freeze, and Ann made some Scotch Eggs which we cooked in the air fryer. No deep fat fryer for us.

The afternoons depend on the weather. Yesterday it was sunny outside and warm enough to relax for a couple of hours. Today looks like it may be warm enough to do the same. Recently the weather has been cold and wet, and so we have lit the log burner and watched a film. It sounds really self-indulgent but it has been fun. Over the last few days we have watched The Dead Zone (brilliant), The Killing Fields (stunning), The Verdict (Paul Newman so believable as the drunken lawyer) and The Irishman (initially fascinating but at nearly three and a half hours in length, too long). Our tv provider from Switzerland has a section of Video on Demand and we have a choice of about six and a half thousand films, and tv box sets. Spoilt for choice, and we have taken to looking at Wikipedia for films nominated for Oscars.

I must admit our subscription is worth every Euro at this time of year. If you decide to follow in our footsteps then a tv service (streamed over the internet) is a useful tool. And it can take your mind off Brexit, the US election, Coronavirus and all the other things that may set you on a downward spiral. And don’t for get a “winter warmer” or two, to put that smile on your face. A friend was writing on Facebook about the changes to her life since the pandemic. She felt she was now an alcohol-dependent, but increasingly competent cook, and needed to lose some weight.

Back to the Future ...

I could possibly have called this blog entry “SMS Heaven” because we are now back in the time when we require permission to leave the house, and this is limited to twice a day. This really is not a big deal as we have hardly ever left the house twice in a day for such a long time. The civil liberties’ supporters are making their voices heard in the Cyprus press, as they are - to a lesser extent - on the expat forums. I’m not sure where I stand on the civil liberties’ issues. I suppose we believe these measures (and possibly others, like shutting the airports) are necessary to protect the people from the virus until they can be vaccinated.

The whole question of vaccination seems to be ignoring the elephant in the room. In both the UK and Cyprus the governments are making efforts to mobilise a veritable army of people to help with what is a national effort. But some interesting questions remain, which no one appears to know the answers to. How long will “immunity” last? Some experts have suggested it may only last a few months. If that is the case, then neither country will have had time to vaccinate everybody before it is time to start again. The cost is enormous and will be so in the future. Little Cyprus is getting a few thousand doses from the EU, but nowhere near enough to stem the flow of infections. In fact various experts (and they come out of the woodwork at the drop of a hat) are posing whether the vaccination will stop the infection or just lessen the symptoms. And no one knows whether vaccinated people are still going to be infectious.

In any event it will be a considerable time before we have to decide whether to be vaccinated or not. Happy days.

Cometh the hour ...

 It’s a crisis of Churchillian proportions and “Cometh the hour, cometh the man”. If only that idiomatic expression was based on what someone had said or written. But it is not. And, in the same vein, it’s just the thought that must pass through the mind of the British Prime Minister. Narcissistic in the extreme, I can imagine him staring into the mirror and perhaps believing that there is the picture of a national saviour. Perhaps he even poses as Nelson, with one arm hidden in his ill-fitting suit, as he prepares to battle the invisible enemy.

I sat up last night to watch the prime ministerial address with a growing sense of déjà vu. Here was the man tasked with saving the nation, who looked as if he combed his hair with a toffee apple (thanks to John Crace in this morning’s Guardian for that turn of phrase), coming out with platitudes and so many statements beginning with “If ...” 

And so, with his band of merry morons at his back, he ploughs on - unthinking and unfeeling. The old Bullingdon Club bravado, and the same disregard for any lesser beings, so out of touch with the emotions of the time. During my time at Oxford my close group of friends considered members of that club to be heartless, thoughtless and beyond the pale. There was never any sense of intellectual rigour in their braying drunkenness. And now, two of their number have been Prime Minister. Ye Gods! What has Britain become?

There used to be an apocryphal joke that made the rounds of the officers’ messes in various regiments. The names of the Public Schools could be adapted to suit the audience. It went something like this:

Two old boys from different schools meet in the lavatory of a gentleman’s club. They observe each other carefully until one notices that the other has not washed his hands. 

“I say, old boy, I hope you don’t mind me mentioning it but at Eton we were taught always to wash our hands after urinating.”

The other replies, “Not at all. At Winchester we were taught not to piss on our hands.”

And so we have Boris Johnson, a man so completely out of his death, that I get the distinct feeling he doesn’t understand the situation he is in. And to make matters worse, I voted Conservative at the last election. I must just go and wash my hands.