Annus Horribilis Part 3 …

 As we proceeded through August (our moving day was to be September 1st, as removal companies do not normally work on Sundays), the silence from the landlady and her family was deafening. Through the mediation of our solicitor, it was agreed (apparently - more about this later) that we would vacate the property by 17.00 on Monday 1st September. Our brilliant removal men would arrive at 08.00 to begin the move, our super cat lady would arrive in the middle of the day to transport Holly and Jaz to avoid stressing them. Ann and Oscar would be at the new house (I would drop them off at 07.00), a Cypriot friend would arrive at 08.30 to take all our accumulated pots and plants from Argaka to the new house. The final piece of the jigsaw was a lovely guy who had done electrical work and other jobs for us would go to the new house and make both sets of gates “Oscar-proof” with chicken wire we had purchased. He would then come back to Argaka and remove about 60 metres of chain-link fence we had had fitted, and which was now surplus to requirements. This was a gift from us to him.

All well-organised and budgeted for. And then, on the previous Sunday morning I received a telephone call from an unknown number. The caller informed me she was our landlady’s niece (visiting from Australia), and was a lawyer. She then proceeded to inform me that another “inspection” was required before we departed so that the landlady could decide whether to release our deposit. As it had only been four weeks since the last “inspection” I could not see the reason for this. The tone was threatening and “legal redress” would be sought if we refused her demands. Incredibly she offered to “inspect” the property herself and did not quite understand when I asked her what she would compare things with. Had she inspected the property before? No. Had there been a photographic record made twelve years ago? No. Was there an inventory? No. A totally pointless exercise.

More calls to the solicitor who advised us not to agree to an inspection or meeting of any sort. Once again he acted as an intermediary (in whose interest?). Finally an agreement was made. Property to be vacated by 17.00 on Monday 1st September, and our man would remove the chain-link fence and our internet company would remove the wi-fi antenna from the roof. The electricity and water bills would be settled, and community charge payments brought up to date. All the things good, long-standing tenants would do as a matter of course.

All signed, sealed and delivered you would assume. Oh no, dear reader. Let me outline the events of Monday 1st September.

The day started well. Ann, Oscar and I drove to the new house and I left them there to await the removal men. A phone call alerted me to the fact they were running late due to roadworks on the Paphos - Polis road. At 08.30 they arrived and three more cheerful and obliging blokes it was difficult to imagine. Conversations were had and they began their task. Our Cypriot friend arrived a little later and one of the removal men gave him a hand with the heavier pots.

Before leaving for the new house we chatted briefly about our landlady problems. Tellingly he said that the village was not the same since her husband’s death. A cryptic and very appropriate comment, as it turned out. The removal proceeded at pace and I telephoned the cat lady. About half an hour later the removal men headed off to the new house and she arrived. The cats were ensconced in the en-suite bathroom and it took only a few minutes to “entice and encourage” them into their cat transports.

I was just saying goodbye to her, and paying her for her expert services, when another car drove down the track. Out of the car came the landlady, almost at a run. Wild-eyed and seemingly manic, she shouted that this was her property and she was coming in now. I pointed out that 17.00 was the agreed time. No response but she lunged at me (our cat lady said she thought she was about to assault me). Another woman appeared and this was the Australian “lawyer”.

Like a whirling dervish the landlady went from room to room screaming at the top of her voice. I asked the Australian what was happening. No response. Then a telephone call was made by the landlady to the man I assumed was our lawyer (conflict of interest) who the Australian advised me had told the landlady I should vacate the property immediately.

At this point I thought “sod it”. I had photographed the electricity and water meters, and made a video of the inside of the house and the garden. No more to be done. I drove off, only pausing to switch the electricity off at the end of the road. And then to the electricity shop to request disconnection of service. I had kept Ann informed of all of this, and she was understandably concerned for my welfare.

Once I arrived at the new house, I settled down to a cold beer or two. The worst was over, and that was that. Oh no, dear reader. The events progressed apace. In the early afternoon we received a call from the guy who was removing the fence for us. Despite bearing a document from us that gave him permission to remove the fence, the landlady had come out and accused him of stealing her property. She then called the police. Our man was detained, leaving us to try and sort matters out. The police wanted proof that the fence was ours (we had paid cash and had no receipt). Phone calls to the guy from the garden centre who had done to the work and to the lawyer (who denied to Ann that he had told the landlady I should vacate the property immediately (Who to believe? Conflict of interest?).

The final nail in the coffin was that our man messaged us and told us an “Amicable Solution” had been reached and he was allowed to take half the fencing. Amicable! I don’t think so. The landlady ended up with €375 of our fencing. Ye Gods!Our blood boils with the memory.

Local readers who know us, and the house, and the personalities concerned , will be astonished. The house will no doubt be on the rental market. Interested parties would be advised to proceed with the utmost caution if they want to deal with a venal, mendacious and greedy family who would not know the truth if it bit them where the sun doesn’t shine.

The good news is that we are living in the most beautiful house in friendly and agreeable surroundings, and are very happy. It’s been a month and the scars run deep. But we got through it and, in my view, good triumphed over evil.

Annus Horribilis Part 2 …

Little did we realise the storm that was about to be unleashed after the death of the landlady’s husband. We had rented our bungalow for nearly twelve years. For the first eight years the rent was unchanged, and then - four years ago - it was proposed the rent would rise by €50 a month. This was more than fair, and we accepted the proposal. Under the Rent Control Act, rents for certain properties were restricted to rises every two years of about 6%. We never knew whether our bungalow was covered by this, but the landlady’s husband was surprised when I mentioned it to him. Two years later, another (quite expected) rise of €50 was proposed and we accepted that. Negotiations were amicable, and we were aware that rents were rising all over the island.

Our tenancy agreement was due to be renewed at the end of June, but nothing was mentioned. We paid the rent on time (as we had always done) and Ann and I agreed that we should mention this to the landlady. It became apparent that she had no idea the tenancy agreement was due for renewal but we felt it was the honourable and correct thing to do. Ann was met with an apparent unwillingness to discuss it, and our attempt to pay the rent was rebuffed. We tried twice more and then “I am raising the rent”. No discussion, no negotiation  - just a flat 15%+ rise.

Ann and I said “No” - bearing in mind no new tenancy agreement was proposed. And to exacerbate the situation, only for twelve months. What a bombshell. We immediately went into “Let’s sort this out” mode, and on that very day saw the most beautiful house in another village. We telephoned the agents, had a viewing that afternoon and fell in love with the house, its environs and the village it was in. One look at Ann’s face was enough to know. I asked the agent how we could proceed and he explained that we were the third couple to view the property that day. I offered to pay the month’s deposit that afternoon.

A long phone call ensued with the owner (a lady lawyer in Nicosia) and whatever the agent said it was enough. She would drive from Nicosia on Sunday to meet us and take things further. Sunday came and we got on well with her, paid the deposit in cash and signed a detailed and correctly drafted tenancy agreement. One snag - the property was not available until the beginning of September. Patience required.

No word from the landlady in Argaka until her daughter telephoned and said she wished to view the property and discuss things. A meeting was arranged with her mother and her at the house but they did not show up or let us know they were not coming. Texts and phone calls followed with a more demanding and strident tone. Ann telephoned back and was told the daughter would arrive at ten o’clock the following morning and - if she was refused entry - would call the police to have us evicted. And she had decided the rent would rise by 23%+. Tempers flared and Ann is not one to back down when threatened.

For our own protection we engaged a Cypriot (English speaking) lawyer, who became the intermediary and finally managed to take the steam out of the situation. It was agreed we would pay the current rent for July and August (although the majority of August’s rent would be made up of the deposit held from twelve years ago). A visit to the house was arranged for the landlady, accompanied by her son, to “inspect the house”. What a farce that turned out to be! The son (whom we knew) obviously did not want to be there, and translated (accurately, we obviously did not know) for his mother. She stomped around the house, like a silent banshee.

Surprises there were, especially when we told her that the gas hob and electric oven were ours (with receipts) and we did not intend to leave them there. They were offered to her for a reasonable price and the son promised he would telephone over the next two days to let us know. We never heard another word.

It was as a result of that meeting that we came to the decision that we would not leave anything of ours behind. We would offer for sale anything we did not require for our new home, and what we could not sell, we would give away or even have taken to the municipal dump. Over the succeeding weeks we managed to sell both kitchen islands, the gas hob, the electric oven, the sofa bed, the Ikea chest of drawers, the swimming pool rail, the timing mechanism for the irrigation (and gave away the irrigation system we had had fitted). We did not sell the corner cabinet and the matching bookcase, and they fitted in perfectly to our new home. The other sofa, and some artwork, we had transported to the end of the lane and posted the coordinates on Facebook. They were picked up the next day and we trust the person who came to pick them up, enjoyed them. 

The story of the chain link fence, the Australian “lawyer”, and the Police will feature in the third part of this blog, dear reader, and you should be ready to have your “flabber well and truly gasted”. 

Annus Horribilis Part 1 …

 This has been a memorable year for all of the wrong reasons and it has contained the stuff of nightmares and many tears. And the most awful thing is that most of what has happened was unnecessary, and outside of our control. But, dear reader, we have come out of the experiences stronger and in a better place. But the cost to us as people has been immense. Ann’s strength and my obstinacy have been essential but I would not have wished 2025 on anyone.

At the end of last year we were coming to terms with the unexpected death of our darling dog, Daisy. Nothing anyone can say will persuade us that her death was unavoidable. The vet, with his complacent attitude, sent us away after pain-killing and anti-emetic injections and told us to return in a “couple of days”. Twenty-four hours later Daisy died in the early hours of the morning in our arms. “Forgive and Forget” - no chance.

Never again, we told each other. No more pain. But after the good counsel of a lady we knew, we started looking for another dog (not a replacement by any means). The charities running the various pounds and shelters were useless, staffed by well-meaning amateurs - who on more than one occasion led us up the proverbial garden path. And then the lady, who had advised us to take on another rescue dog as a companion, got in touch. She had seen a lovely dog on Facebook who needed a new home as his owner could not cope with the way her life was developing.

She bought the dog to meet us and he was the sweetest dog imaginable. The lady loved our home and took to us, and we all agreed to think things over for a couple of days. Decisions were made and we drove to Paphos to meet her and take him home with us. An “interesting” journey back and Oscar (as he was to be called - she had called him Oski) became part of the family. Looking like a long-legged Dachshund (we discovered he is mainly Mini Pinscher), he immediately found our bed, jumped up and made himself at home.

OSCAR AT REST

The rest, of course, was not straightforward. Being the breed (and crossed with an unknown type) he is an escape artiste par excellence. Our garden and gate were easily bypassed and we came to the decision we would need some form of mesh to keep him in. Our gardener put up a green mesh plastic fence, which cost a small fortune. Αnd Oscar chewed through it and was off to pastures new over and over again. Eventually our local garden centre came and constructed a chain-link fence at considerable expense to ensure his safety (€750). And still he escaped - twice they returned and finally the garden was secure. Ann was understandably irate with the gardener who told us he only agreed to put the mesh up because we had bought it. He left our employ shortly after.

Oscar has been with us about a year now and has proved to be a perpetual delight. Without any knowledge of his life before he became part of our family, it was soon apparent that he distrusts men. Goodness knows how he might have been mistreated by them in the past. However he has accepted me and trusts me, although he is very much Ann’s dog.

In March the unexpected happened. Our landlady’s husband, a man of honour and integrity, was taken ill one afternoon and died a couple of hours later. Our dealings for the last twelve years (as far as the house was concerned) had always been with him and, without exception, he had treated us fairly. But, unbeknown to us, the situation was about to change dramatically and for the worse.

That part of the year will be dealt with in Part 2, published in the next few days.

I hate to admit it but …

A few weeks ago there was a bit of a storm in a teacup locally because, in my blog, I commented that the change of management at a local bar, and the service there, was not particularly auspicious but that “time would tell”.

It’s all change there now with the landlady of the last ten or eleven years back at the helm. What a difference. My darling wife has been down there to support the landlady, sorting out the book shelves and then designing, printing and laminating the new Sunday Lunch menu. Why? Because she wanted to support the landlady in her new endeavours.

Yesterday we ventured down in mid-afternoon for Sunday lunch. What a delight the meal was. The roast beef we both had was “melt-in-the-mouth” delicious and the vegetables (unlike so many offerings locally) were served hot. The gravy was to die for. Relaxed, friendly service and chatting to some customers we knew, and some we had never seen before, made for a very pleasant afternoon.

If you live within travelling distance of Argaka, then do give the Tipsy Turtle a call (99 936384) and ask Ann for a table between 12.30 and 16.00 for Sunday lunch. I have a feeling you won’t regret it.

No supper last night, and something of a struggle for breakfast, and excellent memories of a treat we shall return for.

As the title of today’s blog says, “I hate to admit it but I jumped to conclusions”.

For a different point of view on our life here, you might enjoy Ann’s blog “Further Musings from a Cyprus Garden” which you can find at

http://furthermusingsfromacyprusgarden.blog

Funny old world, isn’t it?

 We hope, as do all mankind, that the terrible happenings in the Ukraine and in Gaza come to an end soon. And we pray that China does not invade Taiwan. All of these events, and others, have the potential to unleash unimaginable suffering on millions of people. And the thought of either the increasingly senile Joe Biden or the crazy Donald Trump becoming president of the USA fills me with foreboding.

Domestic and other matters tend to slide into the background and you make the comparison that these things do not matter as much. But, of course, they do. Man’s inhumanity to man is not limited to nations attempting to blow each other to smithereens. It can be scaled back to petty injustices felt at home and locally. People can be unkind intentionally or thoughtlessly, and then just move on - leaving unhappiness and distress in their wake. 

Small communities seem to excel in this and the reverberations are felt more intensely because everybody seems to be aware of them. Social media is both a blessing and a curse, and I cannot remember who suggested that keyboards should be fitted with a breathalyser. You can almost instantly see who has had a glass too much, especially those private messages that are sent in the evening. These keyboard warriors then commit the ultimate in cowardice by blocking the person to whom they sent the message. What intellectual giants they are.

Was there ever a time when people were not bitchy, being always ready to stab others in the back? Social media makes everything easier but you just need to glance through Twitter to see how many set out to disparage, hurt, libel and destroy others with their half-truths and rumours. I love skimming these posts for the gorgeous pet videos people share. They restore my faith in human nature. Just about …

For a different point of view on our life here, you might enjoy Ann’s blog “Further Musings from a Cyprus Garden” which you can find at

http://furthermusingsfromacyprusgarden.blog

After the storm …

 Our lovely visitors have returned to the UK and what an impression they left. Becky brought a friend with her and she was like a bottle of champagne - all bubbles, which dispelled the gloom. What a time they had. They stayed at Savvas Villa in Argaka, which was only ten minutes’ walk from us. They were very impressed with the villa and highly recommend it (Google is your friend here).

After a slightly enormous Chinese banquet (thanks to the always reliable Farmyard Restaurant in Kathikas) at our house, they staggered off into the night to their accommodation. The weather was fabulous for this time of the year. On Friday we went to the museum in Steni and then onto the Watermill Restaurant across the road. We have not been there since before lockdown but it was as if we had been there last week. Warm, welcoming and very professional. The food was a delight and defeated us all (doggy bags were the order of the day). Interestingly they were very busy but the table service was fast and efficient, and friendly. This is what happens when a staff team gels.

All too soon it was departure day and we all went to Santa Barbara Resto in Argaka. It was intended we went for lunch but it became very obvious that we had all eaten too much the day before. A few drinks followed as we waited for the taxi to go to Paphos Airport. This is another hostelry where the greetings are warm and the service terrific. Another highly recommended venue for that lazy time in the sun.

A couple of weeks I dropped my iPad onto a hard surface and cracked the screen and crucially the surrounding bezel. Repair was possible but very expensive. And so, with Ann’s support, I ordered a new one online at an Apple Authorised Reseller in Nicosia. The price was identical to the price I would have paid in the UK. A couple of hours after ordering they telephoned to say the model I had ordered was out of stock, but they were prepared to offer me a more expensive model at the same price. The only drawback was that the screen was slightly bigger, which meant it would not fit into my Logitech Slim Folio. I explained this and he said he would order the out of stock iPad from Apple for me. An email following on from this conversation stated the estimated delivery time to be one to three weeks. A week later the store telephoned to tell me they had received it from Apple and would courier it to me. The following day it arrived. Brilliant service. If you are in the market for anything Apple then Prisma in Nicosia should be your first port of call. 

http://prismastore.com.cy/

Spring is teasing us at the moment and for the last couple of years it has been very brief, and then summer has come roaring in. We love Spring and Autumn so please hang around a bit longer this year.

For a different point of view on our life here, you might enjoy Ann’s blog “Further Musings from a Cyprus Garden” which you can find at

http://furthermusingsfromacyprusgarden.blogspot.com/

Storms in teacups …

 Gosh how sensitive some people are about opinions in blogs.

My blog is a self-confessed mixture of news about our life here in Cyprus, advice (over the years) for people wishing to follow in our footsteps - sadly much more difficult after the insanity of Brexit - and some occasionally acerbic observations relating to UK politicians of all political persuasions. My opinions are just that - opinions. Standard advice is always if you don’t like my opinions, try reading someone else’s blog instead.

That’s the great thing about my blog - it’s mine and nobody has any right to criticise it. I know full well not to libel anyone. Some years ago a friend took me to task about an opinion I expressed about the Greek Orthodox Church here in Cyprus. He had a point, which I acknowledged in the blog and that was that. Polite, civilised and neither of us were upset by his intervention.

At the present time my blog has been visited over 83,000 times since I started writing it. I make the not unreasonable assumption that I must be doing something right. It’s all about choice - mine and yours.

I may have mentioned I am diabetic. The specialist looking after me asked me to visit an ophthalmologist to have my eyes checked for any damage. Ann had visited a very good ophthalmologist in Paphos but I wanted to avoid yet another drive there. I asked for advice at Polis Medical Centre and the wonderfully helpful Mary recommended Dr Katerina Stylianidou in Polis. I made an appointment with her under GESY. What an inspirational and gentle lady. I spent an hour with her. Her expertise and professionalism was so reassuring. Everything was explained. The only problem she found was the beginnings of cataracts in both eyes, which would eventually require intervention. No surprise there at my age. €6 well spent. If you need to see an ophthalmologist I highly recommend her.

The storm in the teacup to which I referred to related to me passing an opinion on a local pub. Briefly I stated “…our two subsequent visits were not auspicious. No doubt time will tell.” Not auspicious means not favourable or not conducive to success. And then the next sentence states unequivocally that time will tell.

And that, dear reader, is what I meant. I bear no ill will to the bar, its new managers or its customers. I passed an honestly held opinion. Good luck to the bar in the future. It would be lovely to see it flourish.

Running a pub is no cakewalk as Ann and I know. In England we ran a village pub together, then I took on an incredibly busy vodka bar in the Old Town in Hastings. After that Ann managed a large hotel, and I ran the bar and was a general dogsbody. None of it would have been possible without the intense training we received at the hands of Greene King. Without that training we would have been the worst of all things - amateurs in a competitive and busy world.

And that is that for today.

For a different point of view on our life here, you might enjoy Ann’s blog “Further Musings from a Cyprus Garden” which you can find at

http://furthermusingsfromacyprusgarden.blogspot.com/