The Grand Adventure continues

 It is hard to believe that on 9th October, 2012, we set out on the great adventure - a new life in Cyprus. Even more surprising was the fact that we travelled on one-way tickets. It had been my idea, and Ann courageously agreed - despite the fact that she had never set foot on the island. There was a pre-departure agreement that, if either of us felt that we had made the wrong decision in the first twelve months, we would find another place to live. It took us eighteen months before we realised that we had not discussed the possibility … by which time we were settled in our current home.

Of course, in retrospect, we made some initial mistakes. We were grateful for help and advice, but so much of the opinion we were offered was dressed up as facts. And so, inevitably, we decided to follow our own instincts. My late friend, Dave Travis, was an enormous help, and it was his initial offer of an apartment in Polis that led us to settle in this part of the island. Otherwise we might have ended up in Pissouri (which had been our initial plan) and our house might have been sliding down the hill as so many others have found.

Thee have been many lessons learned. The insular nature of considerable numbers of British expats leads to a cliquishness which is often based on place of origin and social class. Of course people like to mix with people like themselves, but surely not to the exclusion of all others? There is also a need for instant friendship of those people (especially women in our experience) who, shortly after meeting you, declare lifelong friendship. Again this was alien to us, and we have learned to keep our distance from some of those who clamour the loudest.

The Covid lockdowns inevitably changed the way people interacted, and many people of our acquaintance no longer go out two or three times weekly to socialise at bars and restaurants. Our own situation (and we fall into the “vulnerable” category) led us to lockdown before the government enforced it, and we slowly come out of our shells from time to time. Of course we are lucky to live in a lovely home, with fabulous views, and Ann and I (and our three adorable pets) make a very self-contained unit.

But the adventure continues. Ann is once again driving (on her own), her balance issues are a thing of the past, and recent problems with her health have been happily resolved. Those of you hoping to follow in our footsteps should note that health care in Cyprus has been transformed in the last three years, and the GESY system really works well. If you are in receipt of a British S1 form, and can satisfy the more stringent requirements of the post-Brexit regime, then step forward with confidence. You will be well looked after.

My writing came to something of a halt over the last month (possibly too much “fun in the sun” going on), but the winter months are more and more inviting. Ann has a barrage of hobbies and interests, with more to investigate. To conclude the last decade has been the most fulfilling of our lives and we move forward with confidence and optimism. Not long until the pool is warm enough to swim in. Until then it is enough to throw another log on the fire. Life is good.

Tidings of great …

Tidings of great joy or of woe? Who can possibly tell amidst the doom and gloom of the reports filling the main stream media? It really does send negative vibrations across the airwaves, as if the whole of the western world is going to hell in a handcart. Politicians from both wings of the spectrum are floundering about, controlled by hidden forces. Honesty … probity … decency … rationality … no chance.

We, in Cyprus, feel somewhat insulated from the desperate state of the UK, but it doesn’t stop us feeling sympathy for friends and family who are suffering the shameful deprivations people are undergoing. And, let me put my cards on the table, I worked non-stop before and after university and did not ever consider going on strike. In the first instance, as an army officer it was illegal to strike and I would probably have  ended up in the Tower of London. After that, the years of teaching were dedicated to the pupils I taught and the colleagues with whom I worked. Striking … I have always vehemently opposed strikes which damage the public. Nurses and ambulance staff striking to save the NHS - what a load of self-serving twaddle.

All of us who lived through the 1970s and had to endure the trade unions attempting to hold the country and the government to ransom, the “winter of discontent”, the heartbreaking inflation and the unbelievable decision of the government to give in to the strikes (with eye watering pay increases) to buy off the unions, know that the 2020s is a rerun of the 1970s without the flared trousers. After Oxford, I went into teaching and was incredulous when the school increased salaries by 30%. Within a year or two I was worse off. I now wait, not with bated breath, for the first union apparatchiks to mention the dreaded phrase “pay differentials” - which was the signal for the next round of blackmail to begin.

Where it will all end I have no idea, but - as the running joke in Star Wars had it - “I have a bad feeling about this”.

2023 is the year we work hard to put the last two years of broken bones (Ann’s) behind us and a nasty bout of illness which is now under control (mine). We have always been “glass half full” kind of people, and so optimism is the order of the day. I trust all the readers of this blog have a happy, healthy and fulfilling year. In the next month this blog will record its 70,000th page visit. Will that be you?

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?