If you’re ever near Latchi …

 My goodness - we’ve unearthed a real gem in Latchi (outside of Polis Chrysochous). We don’t often wax lyrical about bars and restaurants but the last couple of weeks has seen us visit and revisit The Island Cocktail Bar & Restaurant. Situated right on the beach it is a stunning and stylish location in which to wile  away the hours.

Managed by the charming Tassos, the staff are attentive and friendly (without being obtrusive), and very well trained. Drinks arrive promptly - even if we haven’t yet investigated the Signature Cocktails - and I would never have believed how much gin could fit in a glass.

But the food - my goodness - our lunch yesterday was some of the most delicious we have had in our thirteen years in Cyprus. Ann’s seafood salad was rich and there had been no skimping on the delicious ingredients. We took home more than half of it (which will be lunch for two). My seafood pasta was the best I have ever eaten. 

The menu is large and varied, with meat, fish, pizza, wraps, burgers and a host of other options. Sitting by the stairs leading to the lower terrace we had a bird’s eye view of all the dishes being served. Prices were very affordable with many main courses costing between €15 - €18.

All in all a magical experience so if you are anywhere near Latchi you should see for yourself. Tables can be reserved and all menu items can be “taken away”. Parking has been an issue in Latchi in recent years but there is free (tarmac surface) parking on the other side of the road only a few yards away from the restaurant and all is flat (with easy access).

GESY … the good, the bad and the ugly

 Before I post this, I should say that I have the highest regard for the health treatment we have received in Cyprus. Twice in the last year the treatment I have received has probably saved my life. The paramedics have been brilliant. I had a hypoglycaemic incident and my blood glucose was so low the paramedics judged I was minutes from death. Polis Hospital saved the day. In January this year I had a “significant cardiac event” at three o’clock in the morning. The ambulance arrived very quickly, I was taken to Polis where the decision was made to send me to Paphos General. Admitted overnight the cardiac team there decided I needed investigation at Limassol Mediterranean Hospital. Transport by ambulance and into an operating theatre within the hour. The surgeon told me I needed a stent fitted, which I agreed to. Overnight stay there and back to Paphos, for drips to bring my potassium levels back. Fabulous, life-saving treatment for which we shall be forever grateful.

Has GESY changed without me realising it? Over the last couple of years I have needed to attend Polis Hospital Emergency Department. My skin is very thin and tears easily. The tears require medical attention as they are too serious to deal with at home.

Last year I fell and had bad, deep tears on both arms. The treatment at Polis Hospital was excellent and I had to attend every two days for three weeks for the wounds to be cleaned and redressed. I had paid an initial €10 to register and that was that.

On Saturday I had an accident at home and the tear on my hand required medical attention as it was bleeding copiously. My wife took me to Polis Hospital and registered me. Two nurses came over, sat me down and very gently cleaned the wound.

And then the rudest, most obnoxious doctor I have ever met came into the treatment room. He immediately told me I should have not come to the hospital to have a wound treated but I should have gone to see my personal doctor. I explained that my personal doctor did not operate a 24/7 service. At that, he said I should have photographed the wound and sent it to her. She could then have seen whether it was infected. WHAT!

My wife appeared. I was still bleeding and probably in shock. She quite rightly told the doctor to talk to her and not to me. He rudely talked over her and then declared we should change personal doctors. The nurses did not know where to look.

The wound was dressed and I was told to return on Monday for it to be cleaned and redressed. The whole situation was distressing. Duty of care to patients from a doctor. I don’t think so.

And then on Monday, when I returned, I was told at registration that I would have to pay again and on each occasion. My personal doctor was then telephoned and I was told to visit their surgery for treatment. I did so and she could not believe what had happened. And neither could we.

Is the Emergency Department not there for accidents? Unbelievable.

GESY … the reality

 A few weeks ago I had a “significant cardiac event” at home in the early hours of the morning. My wife called an ambulance, which arrived very quickly. The superb paramedics took me first to Polis Hospital, where I was carefully assessed and sent on to Paphos Hospital, to the Emergency Department.

After blood tests, ECG, X-RAY, I was seen by a cardiologist and placed on a ward - where I was wired up to all sorts of machines and drips. Frightened by all of this, I can only say I was looked after professionally and sympathetically. The “Cardiac Team” arrived early next morning and I was told I would be sent to Limassol for tests and possible surgery. My wife, terrified out of her wits, arrived (having hired a driver) with mobile phones, chargers and iPads. The effect was transformative.

The next day, at short notice, I was taken to the Mediterranean Hospital in Limassol, where they proceeded to investigate the problem. Midway through the procedure, the cardiologist (in an operating theatre filled with other cardiologists and nurses and other staff) told me I needed a stent fitted to unblock one of the arteries (from a triple bypass in 2008) that was the problem. Uncomfortable and frightening, I agreed. It took some time. But the team were very professional and caring.

An uneasy night there (where they took yet more blood but managed to lose it en route to the lab) and I was told I could leave. As it had been agreed I would be transferred to Paphos Hospital, this was a concern. I threatened them with my lawyer (Who?) and an ambulance was provided.

On returning to Paphos, the cardiac team decided I would stay for another night (it turned out to be two) because of low potassium. My wife was at her wit’s end (transport from Paphos Hospital) but, in the end, all was well.

We had the “indicative cost” from GESY for the operation (nearly €5000) plus all the other costs involved. All covered by GESY. So the next time you moan about the health service in Cyprus, consider how we lucky we are.

New Blog … come and see

 Advance notice that this blogger is in the process of creating a new blog.

“RETRO GAMING HEAVEN” will be published very soon. A real journey back in time, which will reveal my home computer background and then my fascination with computer games - especially from the 1980s. And the great news is that I am back playing them on my Nintendo Switch 2.

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/

It’s been some time but …

 Well the last three months have been different - but not necessarily in a good way. There seems to have been no time for anything since Ann broke her hip in a fall at home. What a thing to happen. The nine day stay at Paphos Hospital was a mixture of the very good and the very bad, and I was never so glad to see the ambulance drive up to bring her home.

Ann has been incredibly brave and determined in the last three and a half months. On the credit side she was operated on by a brilliant surgeon whose skills were obvious once the monthly X-rays were taken. The plate and screws could not have been placed more accurately. Recovery was helped by an excellent physiotherapist from Polis, who visited us twice a week before Christmas. Since then Ann has made weekly visits to his clinic and the improvement is so noticeable.

The wheelchair has been returned to the medical centre, the walking frame is now in storage at home and the walking sick makes the occasional guest appearance. I am full of admiration for my darling wife, who has achieved so much in such a short time.

The end of winter is fast approaching and today is blue skies and warm sunshine. We have kept ourselves comfortable and dry at home thanks to a combination of log deliveries from “The Professor”, whose stacking skills are legendary, and to the installation of two modern air conditioning units (air inverter) in the bedroom and living area. They are quiet, much more efficient and cost less to run than the two units that were replaced. 

Our team to help us in the house and garden is now complete. Our super pool man has been with us for about four years now and the pool is always sparkling and healthy. Sadly our remarkable gardener (and general odd-job man) left Cyprus to return home, and has then moved to the USA. How we miss Gerald and his wife. But our new gardening team from Sri Lanka are outstanding, and I have never seen gardeners work as fast or as efficiently. And our new cleaner is from the same mould - works from the moment she arrives and does not stop. Ann is delighted.

The landlord of our local pub died unexpectedly a couple of weeks ago, which saddened us. He was a guy who never said “No” when you asked for help or a favour. His widow has handed the management of the pub to another couple but our two subsequent visits were not auspicious. No doubt time will tell.

Life here in Cyprus can become a prolonged exercise in navel gazing, whilst parts of the world go to hell in a handcart. The appalling events in Gaza occupy the television screens and newspaper columns, with Ukraine lurking just left of centre. The barbarity and cruelty of man is plain for all to see. The news from the UK suggests a country that is broken, and lawless - without hope of redemption. And the knee jerk reaction of decent people is what feeds the lurch to an authoritarian right wing.

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/

Free Speech or totalitarianism?

 We took no interest in the royal events a couple of weekends but I was appalled at the actions of the Metropolitan Police and their high-handed actions with people who wished to protest at the proceedings. It matters not whether the protesters were republicans or “Just Stop Oil” extremists - they have a right to protest about things they do not agree with. Other people may disagree with their actions and have the right, within reason, to disagree with the protesters. That is democracy in action. The new Policing Act, parts of which were rushed through Parliament, is at complete divergence with the British belief in democracy and the right to free speech.

It does seem from afar that the UK is drifting (quite quickly) into a right wing position, where parliamentary scrutiny is bypassed by ministerial edicts (and you only need to see the way in which catch-all  legislation is only reluctantly surrendered by ministers). Altogether it leaves a rather sour taste in my mouth.

Sad news yesterday - we made friends with an English couple about ten years ago and became quite close. Meals out, meals in, and a shared interest in cricket (for the men) and a shared interest in many other things (for the women). And then, about three years ago, she changed at first subtly and then demonstrably. Rudeness and breaking of confidence became the norm, and reluctantly we dropped them. About two years ago we met them by chance at a bar, and she told us in no uncertain terms that her husband was suffering from Parkinson’s, and was telling everybody. Sad for him, and should have been sad for her. Yesterday we were in the same bar and he came in for lunch with a carer. He was a hollowed-out individual shuffling in with a stick. He walked past us with no recognition, and we decided it was better not to add to his confusion by going over to speak. It turned out that (Ann spoke to the carer as she was paying their bill) that he now had a live-in Asian carer, and that his wife had developed Alzheimer’s and died shortly afterwards. How tragic - a lively couple only a few years older than us - and her life ending suddenly (perhaps a blessing) and he existing as a shell of the man we knew.

I know it is an inevitable byproduct of getting older that other people age and die. I suspect, in that situation … I wouldn’t have a clue as to how to proceed. Let’s hope it never comes to that.

It is a sign of summer that, suddenly, out of nowhere, The Ashes are about to dominate the television screens of cricket lovers. The only problem is that we hate to be inside watching television when the weather is as beautiful as a typical Cyprus summer. A conundrum if ever there was one … a typical first world problem.

Schadenfreude … surely not?

 When the chickens come home to roost, and it is possible that you may have predicted it, there is a slight feeling of schadenfreude or epicaricacy as the English might prefer. I don’t believe that I am a vindictive person, yet the thought of some political figures getting their comeuppance fills me with a warm feeling. Some are currently falling, others have fallen and others are nervously on the precipice awaiting their fate.

In Scotland Nicola Sturgeon and her husband, and the rest of the crooked SNP crew have obviously being filling their pockets and have been caught with their hands in the cookie jar. Anyone noticed a £100,000 + motor home on the drive? As far as Trump is concerned the clock is ticking, and his acolyte Boris Johnson is preparing for the hangman’s noose and the long drop. It was David Cameron who referred to Johnson as the “greased piglet”, and never was an epithet more appropriate.

Of course it is said to be a British trait to build someone or something up to the heights, and then rejoice in pulling them down to earth. With politicians (as far as I am concerned) the venality of it all makes me nauseous. If it was second-hand car salesmen, or estate agents, I would accept it for the simple reason that they make no pretence at anything other than self-serving greed. I used, when I was much younger, to admire journalists, and even considered becoming one after university.

Was it an illusion, hard-hitting investigative reporters speaking truth to power? I’ll never know but the sorry state of journalism was never more dire. In the morning, over coffee in bed, Ann and I read the British newspapers and newsfeeds. I subscribe to The Times, which Ann shares, and I also read The Guardian online. Skimming The Daily Mail first is an act of masochism but can bring a smile to my face. And then a mysterious occurrence - I can be reading an article (sports, current affairs, business - it doesn’t matter) and a strange sense of déjà vu can envelop me. Have I read this before? I check back. Yes. It’s the same article, literally word for word, that appeared yesterday in one of the broadsheets. Add this to the increasing control of the newspaper tone and opinion by the owners, and it’s a one way trip to hell. The kowtowing of the editors and owners to the government (and still Paul Dacre hasn’t been “honoured”) is sickening. And, as for the pathetic attempts to persuade people by brainwashing that Camilla is somehow not the Queen Consort but the Queen, which was against the wishes of Elizabeth II, sticks in my craw.

It must be the life I have led for the last seventy years but never have public figures had the feet of clay that are so apparent. I have had a lifelong interest in politics (as my long suffering wife will tell you) and I remember Harold MacMillan with affection. The night I saw Alec Douglas Home resign and the dignity of his television address to the nation moved me to tears at the age of eleven. Even Prime Ministers on the other side of the political spectrum like Harold Wilson had my respect because their mission was to identify the nation’s problems and try and put them right. Margaret Thatcher was strong and forthright (and sometimes very wrong) and I never believed that she was putting anything other than the country’s good at the heart of what she did.

The Blair and Brown years dug a financial hole that the UK has never managed to dig itself out of, and as far as Cameron and the rest … their noses were so deeply in the trough that their ears were blocked, and it will only be the enraged electorate that finally drains the swamp. Whether the next election will be a cause of long-lasting celebration or not, I do not know. Quo vadis?

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/

A light in the darkness …

 Looking back at my last blog there was a fair bit of doom and gloom there, and one of our mantras is - like Monty Python - to always look on the bright side of life. When I stray from that path, Ann is always keen to remind me that we had agreed to focus on the positive. And she is right. Anything other than that will be a long, downward path.

Today the sun is shining, the sky is blue and the breeze is calm. Occasionally we forget what a lovely house we live in, with its beautiful garden (and how many hours has she laboured, even if it is a labour of love?) and peace and tranquility. We, and the managerie, are healthy and happy and fulfilled. We look westwards over the Mediterranean Sea and could not be happier. Beautiful and inviting though the swimming pool looks, we know from experience that it will be another three weeks before that first dip.

My writing is making substantial progress and it will soon be time to bring the desktop fan into play. Our study is very bearable in the morning, and the words are flying onto the page. “Bridges over the Tyne” is proving something of a cathartic experience, delving into the Newcastle underworld in the 1970s. The time of Vince Lander, T. Dan Smith and John Poulson, who were all clients of my father although I never understood the significance of that at the time. My novel, a work of fiction, draws upon those memories and my research. It is proving engrossing. Only time will tell if it leads me to become a best-selling author.

One of the things we discovered during our self-imposed lockdown was a renewed love of cooking, especially in the cooler months. An air fryer brought a new dimension to our culinary endeavours, a soup maker has proved an absolute boon, a new electric oven (which actually achieves the temperature set) and a set of Ninja knives … hot stuff indeed. But the most beneficial item we bought cost €5. It was an app for our iPads called Paprika, which is the most sophisticated way of downloading, modifying and scaling recipes from all over the internet. I believe it is available for IOS, Android and Windows and is highly recommended. You can find it at

https://www.paprikaapp.com/

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/

The State of the Nation (s)

 Recent events in both the UK and the EU have focused the mind wonderfully when it comes to living in Cyprus. It has been increasingly apparent that the world is rowing ever smaller and more interlinked - and this has nothing to do with globalism. 

Perhaps most sickeningly of all Joe Biden came to (ostensibly) interfere in the Northern Ireland Protocol negotiations. It was nothing more than an excuse to appeal to the Irish-American voters in the next presidential election - of whom there are apparently millions - and the “selfie” he had with the murderous Gerry Adams caused me more than nausea. Having served in Northern Ireland in the early 1970s, I know just what damage that murderous pair (Adams and McGuiness) did. And then, not to receive their just desserts, thanks to Blair and the other surrender monkeys. Northern Ireland Protocol and the Good Friday Agreement be damned!

“Don’t be ill” is the mantra as the various union groups keep nurses and doctors out on strike (I’ve lost track of whether paramedics and other NHS are still on strike or not), and all the train drivers and postmen and driving instructors and … 

It is beyond belief that these strikes have been allowed to blossom and ruin the lives of millions of Britons who are struggling to make ends meet. I’ve lived through some inept and uncaring political administrations in my seventy years, but the current government is the worst by far. There was a time, although younger readers may find it hard to believe, when British governments focused on finding solutions to the problems citizens encountered. Why? Because they entered politics to make a difference for the better.

We are both affected by events near and far, and are increasingly likely to be so. The war in Ukraine has sent shock waves through the world, but it will be a storm in a teacup if China invades Taiwan. That could signal a world war to end all wars. And what is frightening and hopeless about it all is that people have no control over what is happening or likely to happen. I suppose we should be grateful that Hilary Clinton never made it to the White House. North Korea would be a memory and as for Iran?

Inevitably we try to ignore the storm clouds which appear from time to time. Cyprus seems an oasis at times like this. Our own mantra is to have “Fun in the Sun”. Interestingly we looked at the runners and riders of today’s Grand National. My choices (both rank outsiders) were “Born by the Sea” and “Back on the Lash”. Highly appropriate for us as our relationship blossomed by the sea and, allegedly, we have been known to drink alcohol from time to time. Cheers.

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/

“Housekeeping is like being caught in a revolving door.”

 I like a clean house and I hate cleaning. And I do believe my darling wife thinks the same. So the solution is to find someone who will do the work for us. Simple! Well not really. We started employing cleaners a few years ago, a Vietnamese girl who thought she knew best, a super lady from the Philippines who was great (but we had to dispense with her services after we “locked down” for health reasons). And then, the regular readers of my blog, will know we employed a thief and all the angst that entailed. Finally our lovely gardener’s wife cleaned for a few weeks but they have now returned home. We felt violated by the thief and perhaps still do.

But Spring is approaching and we feel that we have done our home work and so have started searching again. Not simple but we have our first applicant next week for a trial. So fingers crossed and references checked. It really is a strange thing having someone in your house. Our super pool man, Mick, has worked here for three years but never comes into the house. A cleaner is essential and a new gardener will be necessary. But so many people are offering their services and each poor experience leaves you bruised.

And, as if by magic, someone we vaguely know recommended a cleaner and she arrived (with her husband, an industrial-sized vacuum cleaner and all her cleaning materials) and the whirlwind was unleashed on Castle Douglas. We literally had to throw them out after two and a half hours, (not the agreed two hours) and they would not accept a penny more than was agreed. The house was absolutely immaculate and sparkling. They have visited three times more and we are delighted with what they have done. He has also helped Ann in the garden whilst his wife cleans the house. What a find!

A super visit from Ann’s daughter and a friend last week, only blighted by the poor weather which they seem to have brought with them from Sussex. I was totally horrified by the way prices in Latchi (where they were staying) in bars and restaurants have skyrocketed in the last few months. €65 for a steak, €16 for soup of the day … one of the UK papers wondered whether there was inflation or “greedflation”? I would hazard a guess the latter is true.

In any event, Cyprus is no longer a place where eating out or going for a drink is a cheap option. Food for thought perhaps …

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?