A rival blogger in the family …

 Ann’s Google account was hacked some time ago. We managed to rescue the contents and it is republished. You can find it here:

https://furthermusingsfromacyprusgarden.blogspot.com/

Time to take stock …

 In blogging terms, this has been a very quiet summer. After the unpleasantness of the theft from our home by our “trusted” cleaner - and the very difficult decision not to name and shame her - I have decided to begin blogging again. If it was not for the persuasive voice of my dear wife Ann, I would have splashed the name and photograph of the thief across social media. But I was persuaded not to - a decision I shall abide by - but I do not forgive and forget.

A hot and restful summer, with some lovely times in our pool (still one of the best decisions we ever made), and made perfect by the work of our very professional pool man, Mick, who keeps our pool at its sparkling and most inviting best. I have written before that a pool in this climate is such a luxury (I wouldn’t think that if we were sharing a communal pool), and the extra expense of having someone to clean it properly is essential.

Ann’s daughter, Becky, and her partner came over for a week’s break and it was great to catch up with them. As ever, it is sad when they leave but she has promised to come back in February if possible. Winter visits, rather like the Six Nations’ Rugby tournament, make the cooler and wetter weather much more bearable.

Autumn this year has gone on and on, with lovely blue skies and sunshine on many days. Certainly once the sun goes down, the temperature drops and we retire indoors and light the log burner. But, in many ways, we are getting the best of both worlds with sitting in the sunshine, then snuggling up in front of the fire.

We read with horror the shenanigans in the UK, with strikes and walkouts, but in a very coordinated manner. Those of us who lived through the 1970s remember the sky-high inflation and the “winter of discontent “ which brought about the Margaret Thatcher era. I find the strikes intolerable, even when the employers are intransigent. With prime ministers and chancellors falling by the wayside, and the UK becoming an international laughingstock, we have never been happier living as immigrants in a foreign country.

To name and shame: that is the question.

 The last forty-eight hours have been amongst the most difficult in our nearly ten years in Cyprus, and we have been affected deeply by these issues of trust and honesty. Throughout my working life, honesty and integrity have been my yardsticks. And so, I am locked on the proverbial horns of a dilemma.

There is a part of me that burns with rage, and I was tempted to flood social media with the name and photograph of the thief. My darling wife, Ann, has persuaded me not to do that. The reason is simple. If the identity of the thief is revealed, her whole family will suffer. It is not their fault in the slightest, and to tar them with the same brush would be inexcusable.

On the other hand many people want to know this young woman’s identity, for their own security. I should imagine people who employ English cleaners feel especially vulnerable. But, at Ann’s behest, I have undertaken not to reveal the identity of this woman online. And my word is my bond.

Regardless of this, I shall be reporting this woman to the police next week, and asking that they take the appropriate action. I would like to see her arrested and charged with theft. A criminal record might just persuade her to see the error of her ways - although I doubt it.

I cannot draw a line under this until due process is followed. It would be disappointing if the police do not proceed.

I trust readers of this blog will understand the reasons behind my decision.

A loss of trust …

 Sad times … a tale of loss of trust … and how wretched we feel.

Some months ago we engaged a cleaner (an English girl). We put an advertisement on Facebook and a young woman (the daughter of someone we knew) applied. We engaged her and each Thursday she arrived and cleaned our house. Ann developed almost a parental affection for this young woman, who it turned out was an animal lover. Eventually Ann asked her if she would act as godmother to our dog, Daisy, and our two cats. Our fear was that we might die and leave the animals homeless.

She agreed willingly and almost became part of our extended family. She was written into our wills (at considerable expense) so that - if there was a dreadful accident - there would be no doubt about where our beloved animals would go. The wills were lodged at the Paphos court and we felt that an important safeguard was in place.

In May I withdrew €600 in order to meet a regular commitment. This was on a Wednesday and I just placed the money into my wallet. Our cleaner comes on Thursday and it was on Friday that I checked my wallet for the money. You can imagine my shock when I found there was only €500 there. I telephoned the bank in case the ATM was faulty. I had to withdraw another €100 to ensure I could make the €600 payment due on Saturday. No money was found in the ATM and so we reluctantly put it down to an error on someone’s part.

We questioned whether it could have been our cleaner but were convinced it could not be her. As a precaution (paranoia strikes) we moved my wallet and Ann’s money to pay gardeners and pool man into the study as it was my habit to retire there to write when the cleaner was in the house. On Thursday of this week, with Boris Johnson on the precipice of resigning, we sat down to watch the news and asked our cleaner to vacuum the study. Big mistake. Huge.

After she had left, Ann went to sort out our gardener’s money - which she kept in a drawer in the study. She reported that the money was not there, having checked it was all in order after breakfast that morning. A dreadful realisation dawned. I went into the study and found that my wallet was empty. There was only one conclusion to draw.

We wrestled with the situation and eventually Ann suggested that we telephone her mother. A very painful and tearful conversation ensued. Ann asked whether this had happened before and the mother told us that she had stolen money from her (when her daughter had access to her debit card and pin), and also from a previous employer. Her mother said she would repay every cent.

The following morning Ann sent her our bank details and the money is meant to be repaid next Wednesday. And then … to protect others I shall report the theft to the police, and am mulling over whether I should alert her current employers.

Our wills will have to be rewritten at considerable expense and we feel totally violated. If she is reading this, expect no sympathy. We shall never speak to you or acknowledge you again. You disgust me.

What price salvation now?

 The origins of the phrase “going to hell in a handcart” are quite difficult to pin down, and online sources suggest all sorts. But there is definitely a pervasive feeling that - all around the world - that people are going through a difficult phase. Of course there is an almighty difference between feeling the pinch because of inflation and the cost of living crisis, and living in a war zone. But to the individual all such matters are relative.

The outside world (not in our Cyprus bubble) tends to relate the highs and lows of western society, the UK, Europe and the USA. As far as the rest of the world, we are aware of what is going on but that is through the western media. “Fake News” they cry, and I must admit it is difficult to see the wood for the trees these days. The war in the Ukraine is a classic case in point. Russian atrocities and war crimes are highlighted, with every Ukrainian success lauded and every Russian defeat cheered to the rafters. But does anyone really know what is going on. Millions of people have become refugees, and they all tell the same story. But nowhere is the other side of the conflict reported. Propaganda has had a place in warfare for many years but nobody can get near the truth.

Ann and I were discussing this yesterday and the conversation expanded to refugees, asylum seekers, food banks, Britain planning to relocate “illegal immigrants” to Rwanda - whether legally or not. We have supported charitable endeavours, both animal and human, since we have lived in Cyprus. The moment actual cash is exchanged, the capacity for fraud and dishonesty rears its head. An appeal for help from the local dog pound a couple of years ago (and this is where we rescued Daisy nearly five years ago) prompted us to contribute money and when we enquired whether the money had been received, it turned out that the person to whom we had given the money had not handed it over but had used it to offset her expenses from the previous year. What a thieving s**t she is.

We provided regular contributions of food to two local charities, who were appealing for urgent help. And then, in horror, we discovered all the food had gone to one family and none to the others. We contributed a substantial number of duvets and blankets last winter - again after an urgent call for help. We bought these items at considerable cost to us from the hospice charity shop and left them there to be picked up. Days and days later we received a call from the shop to tell us that they still had the items in the shop. Upon telephoning the woman who had made the urgent appeal, she told us she had been too busy to collect them and so the needy families were freezing through the night.

I suspect most of these problems were caused by well-meaning amateurs, but it soon puts you off “charities” like that. And no, before you ask, we do not want to organise a properly run charity. We set up something called Argaka Aid and raised hundreds of euros for needy families locally. Could we give the money away? Not a chance. We exchanged them for vouchers from the local supermarket and still people were too proud to accept help. I created a website for the local pub (where we raised the money through weekly quiz and bingo evenings), and we were interrogated by British expats as to where the money was going. Ann was totally scrupulous in keeping accounts, and I suggested to the owner of the pub that I published and updated the spreadsheets weekly so that people could satisfy themselves where the money was going. “No, No, No” he said.

And that takes us to where we are now. And how many people like us (comfortably off and generous) find themselves in a similar situation. What price salvation now?

Onwards and upwards

 The sun is shining, the sky is blue and Ann is finally in one piece and without any broken bones. Physiotherapy finished last week, and we are both delighted with the success of the weeks spent strengthening the areas around the previously fractured bone. We have decided that that is it for broken bones this year (and hopefully for the future). 

But medical matters still arise. A couple of weeks ago Ann expressed concern about a “growth” below my right eye which had been there for months and months. It didn’t hurt, and indeed I thought nothing about it. However living in a hot climate it is always advisable to not be complacent. So off to Polis Medical Centre to see Dr Maria. She shared the view that it was probably nothing BUT … that evening it was completely removed by a surgeon and sent for biopsy. I can’t pretend it was painless and the three stitches were unsightly. The worse thing was the local anaesthetic needle just below the eye. Now that did hurt. The results of the biopsy appeared on the GESY website for me to look at. A wart and no sign of any malignancy. Back to the surgery for the stitches to be removed - no scar. Try having surgery performed in the UK on the same day you see your GP.

The next hurdle will be the second booster for Covid which is now available to those who are over 60. Hopefully it will be able to be administered locally as Paphos General is something of a scrum.

Our oven went “pop” a couple of weeks ago. It was probably as a result of the electrical surge which killed off various bits of kit in our house. I called into the shop we had bought it from and they told me it was under guarantee. The next day a technician arrived and took everything apart, told it was all working but there might be a problem with the clock. If the clock is not set, no power reaches the oven. He would order the clock.

We turned the oven on the following day and the clock went into error mode. Given Easter here in Cyprus the clock did not arrive and (fingers crossed) will be here soon. As it was Easter Ann decided to make hot cross buns. A lot of effort went into the making of the dough, and jam was bought for the glaze. We were sitting waiting for the dough to rise, when I asked what were the next steps. The final step was to cook IN THE OVEN … We looked at each other and roared with laughter. No oven … no hot cross buns.

And so, with the aid of the slow cooker, the microwave, the air fryer and the gas hob we have fed ourselves without an oven. All things are possible - except hot cross buns. Ann bought some from the bakery and they were delicious.

We are working hard at staying positive with the news from the Ukraine dominating the news. The infighting in the House of Commons seems footling by comparison. Oh for integrity to break out.

Ann in “Rehab”

 Well it had to happen. Ann’s plaster cast was removed a week ago and she is now undergoing a course of physiotherapy in Polis. The walking frame is still used but less frequently and she has gained a degree of independence for which we are both grateful. It will be slow progress (naturally) to regain full movement and for the muscles in her calf to strengthen. She will be impatient but we are both aware of how close she was to having an operation which would have increased the time for rehabilitation.

My 69th birthday is at the end of the month and we are hoping to celebrate that with a joint delayed “Christmas Day”, which was somewhat handicapped by Ann’s accident. No doubt it will be an opportunity to spend lots of money, as our somewhat isolated status has meant that our spending has been almost non-existent.

This has been the coldest winter in our ten years in Cyprus and we have felt fully justified in our purchase of a log burner three years ago. If you are following in our footsteps then do consider your heating options very carefully. Gas and oil central heating is ruinously expensive, and most people avoid electrical heating when they have a choice. With a log burner you have paid for your logs - they are there stacked in front of you - and so there are no hidden costs to arrive in the post. We almost bought a log burner with a 10 Kw output but a little voice at the back of my head made me opt for a 14 Kw model. We have never regretted it for a second as it throws out this lovely dry heat which is so embracing.

Towards the end of last summer we had to replace one of the air conditioning units (in our bedroom) and the elderly model was replace with an inverter model. What a difference it made! It runs almost silently and is so much more economical that the elderly model it replaced. It was a hot summer and we used air conditioning at night regularly. Our bill was but a fraction of what it was previously and we were delighted. If we could afford to replace the other three units in the house, we would do so without a qualm.

This is the last months of winter officially and we look forward to a balmy Spring in the near future. The dams have filled up dramatically this winter, which should make life easier in the summer. Now if only Covid would go away …

Breaking news … Ouch!

 2021 turned out to be the year of breaking bones, and my darling wife was in the vanguard. Last summer, as you may have read in this blog, Ann tripped and fell on broken paving in Paphos and ended up with both arms in plaster casts for quite a few weeks. Caring treatment from the excellent Dr George (an orthopaedic surgeon who visits our medical centre in Polis once a week) enabled her to make a full recovery. But it was hard going for her and she had to put up with my cooking.

And then, in December, she fell coming out of the bathroom at eleven o’clock at night (we suspect an epileptic episode), and cut her head badly, which required eight stitches. She had also “hurt” her ankle. I took her to Polis Hospital - ten minutes from our house - where she was very carefully attended to. Then off to Paphos Hospital by ambulance where a fractured fibula was diagnosed. Into plaster from the knee downwards, and an early morning phone call for me to collect her. Ann was advised to see an orthopaedic surgeon to “ensure they had made the right diagnosis” and so Doctor George to the rescue again.

He was not particularly impressed with the work done at Paphos and removed the plaster cast, had X-rays done there and then, and reapplied the plaster “correctly”. Warned to keep the leg elevated and not put any weight on it, we drove round to the pharmacist and bought a walking frame. This proved difficult for Ann to use as she did not have the strength in her arms and shoulders to support her weight. Matters improved when she raised the height of the frame but the last few weeks have been very demanding.

 Christmas will be celebrated when she is mobile again. Unfortunately Doctor George was unwell yesterday and so Ann was forced to postpone her appointment for a week. And so, it’s fingers crossed until then that he recovers and her plaster cast may be removed. Coupled with bitterly cold weather recently, we have had breakfast and the papers in bed, with the heating on - and then, once the log burner has been cleaned out, and wood brought into the house, we have emerged from the bedroom and enjoyed the fire. We binge-watched (I think that’s the term) the whole of Downton Abbey, and Kavanagh QC, and are now enjoying Judge John Deed. The bar opens as the credits roll, and then we have supper on our knees. Quite sybaritic really but we are making the best of a bad job.

Much thanks to the staff at Polis Hospital, Polis Medical Centre and Dr George of the Hippocratic Clinic in Paphos for their excellent and kind care.