A hornet’s nest or a storm in a teacup?

 My blog regarding the strikes and threatened industrial action in the UK has caused a bit of a stir but that is the joy of blogs. They are yours and reflect your beliefs and opinion. To have a comment from my stepdaughter was terrific, as we have strongly held view on many things - and, surprisingly, are not always in agreement. What a boring world if we all thought the same.

At the time of writing more strikes are promised and the government seems to be trying to “divide and conquer” by negotiating with some unions and not others. Junior doctors are the next to announce a strike, and no doubt they can square with the Hippocratic Oath in the silence of the night.

We have been heartened by the improving weather, and hope for an early Spring although the lack of rain may come back to bite us this summer. Our log store looks healthy, and should see us through to warmth and sunshine.

My 70th birthday is on the horizon and I have had to change my driving licence at the Citizens’ Office in Polis. What a mixed bag! It depends who deals with you. I collected the requisite form on Monday and was told to return on Tuesday. Off to the doctor’s surgery for the form to be signed and stamped, and bright and early on Tuesday I returned to the Citizens’ Office. There were three women waiting (but not with bated breath) and no customers in sight. I explained why I had come and the somewhat surly woman asked if I had an appointment. “I was told to return today”, I replied. 

“You need an appointment,” she intoned. 

“Can you deal with this today?”

“No, you need an appointment”.

So back on Thursday and four minutes later all was completed. The same women, the same lack of customers but a different, and most charming, woman to help me. Grrrh!

Lots of visits to doctors here and in Paphos recently. Tests, analysis, findings, new prescriptions (and cancelled prescriptions), and all the admin and excitement that entails. But the fly in the ointment is Paphos. There have been roadworks and “No Entry” signs, and diversions that lead nowhere. And now, even more roadworks, seeming endless concrete bollards, and “smart” car parks. What an utter shambles. No doubt all funded with EU money, but businesses and shops all over the place are going bust as they are literally isolated for months on end. Thursday 11.00 am and miles of roadworks and not a single sign of activity and certainly not a workman in sight. The Mayor of Paphos, in my view, has lost the plot.

Google Maps almost gave up on me. I’m sure I heard her sigh - more than once.

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.