While the UK is in the clutches of one of the coldest, snowiest Novembers on record, we've been basking in unseasonable warmth here in Cyprus.
In previous years, the weather has started to feel chilly around the end of the first week of November. By mid-November, we usually want to switch our heating on. I get out our warmer duvet, and dig out the sweatshirts and fleeces.
Not so in 2010. We've seen highs (in the shade) of 25-28C every day. We haven't had any rain at all, which is worrying since Cyprus needs regular rainfall in the winter months.
The evenings have been a little cooler. I have a couple of very light-weight jackets which I've been putting on in the morning, and once it gets dark in the evenings.
But today, when I stepped out of my shower, I felt as if the weather was, possibly, beginning to turn cooler. About time too, on the last day of November. And so... I found one of my favourite sweatshirts, and put it on. For the first time since at least May. Possibly since April.
The forecast for today is a high of 27C, but it's 9.30am already and only about 20C so far. The sky is bright, but overcast. My hands feel cool, and I'm glad of the sweatshirt.
Perhaps we might need our central heating before too long.
Tuesday, November 30, 2010
Monday, November 29, 2010
Mincemeat is now made
This time last year, thinking that I might be away for the first week of December, I was more organised for Christmas than I had ever been. It was a little scary, and in the end I wasn't away. I still seemed to have lots of last-minute thing to do, so I'm not sure there was any real benefit to such efficiency.
At least, that's how I see it now, when - until yesterday - the only single thing I'd done towards Christmas was to make this year's cake.
This morning, I decided to take my second step. I made a couple of kilograms of mincemeat, using our traditional family recipe.
It doesn't even take long - about fifteen minutes, I suppose, including peeling and grating apples, grating lemon rind and squeezing the juice.
So, at least that's done. And it's still only November.
(And the temperature is still 25C during the day. A stark contrast to the UK where there is, currently, ice and snow....)
At least, that's how I see it now, when - until yesterday - the only single thing I'd done towards Christmas was to make this year's cake.
This morning, I decided to take my second step. I made a couple of kilograms of mincemeat, using our traditional family recipe.
It doesn't even take long - about fifteen minutes, I suppose, including peeling and grating apples, grating lemon rind and squeezing the juice.
So, at least that's done. And it's still only November.
(And the temperature is still 25C during the day. A stark contrast to the UK where there is, currently, ice and snow....)
Sunday, November 28, 2010
A less than successful purchase
Alas, not all the purchases we made last Saturday were as successful as the toasted sandwich maker.
The bath sealant strip looked like a wonderful idea:
The old sealant was transparant, and looked rather gross with manky, mouldy bits showing. We'd been thinking of replacing it for about four years, but Richard really doesn't like using the giant syringe-like appliance for putting sealer in.
Having bought the strip, he used a knife to hack away at the old gungy stuff, then I spend another hour or so cleaning it thoroughly, getting rid of most of the mould, and ensuring surfaces were clean and dry. We left it for a few hours to finish drying - weather is still warm in Cyprus, so it was easy enough to do.
Then, in the evening, having read the instructions, Richard applied the strips:
It looked very professional...
... at first.
Unfortunately, it didn't seem to 'take' very well. In some places it was sticking, in others - despite our pushing it back regularly - it was not:
We lived with it for a few days, taking baths instead of showers since there evidently wasn't much of a seal.
Then, after all, Richard bought a container of the silicon seal thing that goes in the giant syringe.
He pulled the strip off. There really wasn't any choice. It left a sticky mess behind - it should have set by that stage, so perhaps that was the problem. Maybe, we thought, the sealant strips had been in the hardware shop over the hot summer, subjected to temperatures of 40C and more, and had lost its sticking power.
Not that there was anything we could do about it other than chalk it up to bad experience.
I spent another hour or so cleaning it up.. and he put the sealant in. It doesn't look as good as the strip did, but at least it's sealing. And it isn't mouldy. So on all counts, it's considerably better.
The bath sealant strip looked like a wonderful idea:
The old sealant was transparant, and looked rather gross with manky, mouldy bits showing. We'd been thinking of replacing it for about four years, but Richard really doesn't like using the giant syringe-like appliance for putting sealer in.
Having bought the strip, he used a knife to hack away at the old gungy stuff, then I spend another hour or so cleaning it thoroughly, getting rid of most of the mould, and ensuring surfaces were clean and dry. We left it for a few hours to finish drying - weather is still warm in Cyprus, so it was easy enough to do.
Then, in the evening, having read the instructions, Richard applied the strips:
It looked very professional...
... at first.
Unfortunately, it didn't seem to 'take' very well. In some places it was sticking, in others - despite our pushing it back regularly - it was not:
We lived with it for a few days, taking baths instead of showers since there evidently wasn't much of a seal.
Then, after all, Richard bought a container of the silicon seal thing that goes in the giant syringe.
He pulled the strip off. There really wasn't any choice. It left a sticky mess behind - it should have set by that stage, so perhaps that was the problem. Maybe, we thought, the sealant strips had been in the hardware shop over the hot summer, subjected to temperatures of 40C and more, and had lost its sticking power.
Not that there was anything we could do about it other than chalk it up to bad experience.
I spent another hour or so cleaning it up.. and he put the sealant in. It doesn't look as good as the strip did, but at least it's sealing. And it isn't mouldy. So on all counts, it's considerably better.
Saturday, November 27, 2010
A successful purchase
This week seems to have lasted a long time. It was a surprise to realise that it was only last Saturday when we spent the morning shopping.
One of our purchases was particularly successful. The one which we did not intend to buy until we happened to see it:
.. the rather old-fashioned but good condition Breville toastie maker.
Since the home-made bread from our bread-maker is too large, I bought some supermarket square bread to keep in the freezer for toasties. I also bought some extra cheese, and (for Richard) some thin sliced turkey ham.
On Sunday evening, Richard tried the experiment. Lightly brushed oil on the non-stick plates, bread, fillings...
... and after the required time, perfect toasties appeared:
They were neatly cut in halves diagonally, and lifted out with the greatest of ease:
Delicious.
On Wednesday evening, a friend arrived to stay in our guest flat. He wanted something to eat when he arrived, so Richard made him some toasted sandwiches, which somehow feel more substantial than a regular sandwich.
I assume the Cyprus weather will cool down eventually before next summer... if it does, we might start having toasties for lunch regularly.
One of our purchases was particularly successful. The one which we did not intend to buy until we happened to see it:
.. the rather old-fashioned but good condition Breville toastie maker.
Since the home-made bread from our bread-maker is too large, I bought some supermarket square bread to keep in the freezer for toasties. I also bought some extra cheese, and (for Richard) some thin sliced turkey ham.
On Sunday evening, Richard tried the experiment. Lightly brushed oil on the non-stick plates, bread, fillings...
... and after the required time, perfect toasties appeared:
They were neatly cut in halves diagonally, and lifted out with the greatest of ease:
Delicious.
On Wednesday evening, a friend arrived to stay in our guest flat. He wanted something to eat when he arrived, so Richard made him some toasted sandwiches, which somehow feel more substantial than a regular sandwich.
I assume the Cyprus weather will cool down eventually before next summer... if it does, we might start having toasties for lunch regularly.
Friday, November 26, 2010
A Thanksgiving feast in Cyprus
Of all the 'holidays' celebrated when we lived in American for a couple of years (1992-1994) the one we enjoyed the most was Thanksgiving. About a month before Christmas, it's a time when families get together for large quantities of food, and time to relax and think about what they are thankful for. It's traditionally related to harvest, and eating the foods that have come into season during the autumn and winter.
So we were delighted when our American friends Mark and Joan asked us to a meal yesterday evening, which was the date of American Thanksgiving this year. It would be just the four of us, they said, and they were not going to cook a feast as they would have done back in the USA... but since they couldn't be with their family, they wanted to be with friends.
When we arrived, the table was attractively laid:
The side table had banana bread, apple sauce, devilled eggs, and (since it's Cyprus) fried halloumi:
Next to the stove there was chicken, ham and cranberry stuffing:
Next to that, were dishes of butternut squash, green beans and carrots, and sweet potatoes:
And although I didn't take a photo, there was a corn bake dish too, and mashed potatoes, and a special chicken gravy which looked more like soup to me.
If this wasn't a feast, I couldn't imagine what they might have cooked at home... but Joan said she decided that she would, after all, cook all the dishes she would have made if she had been at home. Just in smaller quantities. She spent all day in the kitchen...
I took a little of almost everything:
Here are our hosts, when we had all piled our plates:
It was all extremely good. None of us could manage much more... so they will be eating leftovers for the next week.
Afterwards we played a game of Rummikub:
Richard won, although none of us had a huge number of points against us.
All in all, a very enjoyable evening.
So we were delighted when our American friends Mark and Joan asked us to a meal yesterday evening, which was the date of American Thanksgiving this year. It would be just the four of us, they said, and they were not going to cook a feast as they would have done back in the USA... but since they couldn't be with their family, they wanted to be with friends.
When we arrived, the table was attractively laid:
The side table had banana bread, apple sauce, devilled eggs, and (since it's Cyprus) fried halloumi:
Next to the stove there was chicken, ham and cranberry stuffing:
Next to that, were dishes of butternut squash, green beans and carrots, and sweet potatoes:
And although I didn't take a photo, there was a corn bake dish too, and mashed potatoes, and a special chicken gravy which looked more like soup to me.
If this wasn't a feast, I couldn't imagine what they might have cooked at home... but Joan said she decided that she would, after all, cook all the dishes she would have made if she had been at home. Just in smaller quantities. She spent all day in the kitchen...
I took a little of almost everything:
Here are our hosts, when we had all piled our plates:
It was all extremely good. None of us could manage much more... so they will be eating leftovers for the next week.
Afterwards we played a game of Rummikub:
Richard won, although none of us had a huge number of points against us.
All in all, a very enjoyable evening.
Thursday, November 25, 2010
One month. Just one.
It was with a sense of shock that I realised, a few hours ago, that it's one month until Christmas. Yes, November has raced past, and we're almost in December.
All I have done in preparation for the festive season is to bake our Christmas cake, just over two weeks ago. I've only remembered to 'feed' it once. I haven't started the mincemeat, or the Christmas puddings. I haven't looked for Christmas cards, I haven't done ANY Christmas shopping, and I haven't thought about what to say in this year's newsletter.
In my defence - if I need one - I should say that it doesn't feel like winter. It doesn't even feel like November. And that's after thirteen years of living in Cyprus, so I'm not expecting the grey, rainy gloom of England in November. I did, however, expect a few rainy days, and a distinct cooling of the temperatures.
Today it is, actually, a tiny bit cooler than it has been. Sufficiently so that I'm now wearing my very useful light-weight zip-up jacket - made of thin cotton, just enough to keep out a chill. And I had to use the water heater twice this morning (forty minutes) before the water was hot enough for a bath. But we're still sleeping under the thin duvet, and I haven't yet worn a regular sweatshirt.
In the UK, it isn't grey and gloomy - it's cold and frosty. Some parts have had snow, others are just bitterly cold, although sunny. Here in Cyprus, we're still getting daytime shade temperatures of about 24C. Yes, that's chillier than it has been, but it's considerably warmer than it usually is at the end of November.
I am aware that the climate in Cyprus is much more like that of Bethlehem than that of England. Jesus probably wasn't born in December anyway (would shepherds have been sitting out on hills, cooler than the coastal regions, in winter? I doubt it, somehow). But even adopting the traditional date, it wouldn't have been grey and miserable as England can be. I should be used to sunshine as Christmas approaches, to seeing oranges and pomegranates as signs that winter is here, rather than expecting bare trees and freezing nights.
But even in Cyprus, non-religious Christmas cards show snow and robins and people warmly wrapped in thick coats ... I gather some of them do even in the Southern Hemisphere when Christmas comes in the middle of summer. Tradition is hard to break out of. And so, I must look at the calendar rather than the weather, and remember that I do have some Christmas baking to do.
Tomorrow. Or should that be 'avrio'?
All I have done in preparation for the festive season is to bake our Christmas cake, just over two weeks ago. I've only remembered to 'feed' it once. I haven't started the mincemeat, or the Christmas puddings. I haven't looked for Christmas cards, I haven't done ANY Christmas shopping, and I haven't thought about what to say in this year's newsletter.
In my defence - if I need one - I should say that it doesn't feel like winter. It doesn't even feel like November. And that's after thirteen years of living in Cyprus, so I'm not expecting the grey, rainy gloom of England in November. I did, however, expect a few rainy days, and a distinct cooling of the temperatures.
Today it is, actually, a tiny bit cooler than it has been. Sufficiently so that I'm now wearing my very useful light-weight zip-up jacket - made of thin cotton, just enough to keep out a chill. And I had to use the water heater twice this morning (forty minutes) before the water was hot enough for a bath. But we're still sleeping under the thin duvet, and I haven't yet worn a regular sweatshirt.
In the UK, it isn't grey and gloomy - it's cold and frosty. Some parts have had snow, others are just bitterly cold, although sunny. Here in Cyprus, we're still getting daytime shade temperatures of about 24C. Yes, that's chillier than it has been, but it's considerably warmer than it usually is at the end of November.
I am aware that the climate in Cyprus is much more like that of Bethlehem than that of England. Jesus probably wasn't born in December anyway (would shepherds have been sitting out on hills, cooler than the coastal regions, in winter? I doubt it, somehow). But even adopting the traditional date, it wouldn't have been grey and miserable as England can be. I should be used to sunshine as Christmas approaches, to seeing oranges and pomegranates as signs that winter is here, rather than expecting bare trees and freezing nights.
But even in Cyprus, non-religious Christmas cards show snow and robins and people warmly wrapped in thick coats ... I gather some of them do even in the Southern Hemisphere when Christmas comes in the middle of summer. Tradition is hard to break out of. And so, I must look at the calendar rather than the weather, and remember that I do have some Christmas baking to do.
Tomorrow. Or should that be 'avrio'?
Wednesday, November 24, 2010
Tomorrow... or 'avrio'?
It's over a week now since our dishwasher was taken away for repairs. I thought it would be, perhaps, a couple of days. On Friday, Richard phoned and spoke to George, the shop owner.
George said there was a thermostat problem. We'd rather guessed that, since the dishwasher was overheating so badly. He said the engineers were replacing that, and the main controller, and that it would cost €130. Ouch!
But, Richard pointed out, we had the main controller replaced at the end of June. It didn't seem unreasonable then, after four years of unstinting service. But surely it should last more than five months...?
Unfortunately, we had no paperwork. Some things are still very informal in Cyprus. We paid cash, and were not even given a receipt, let alone any kind of guarantee.
However, it IS Cyprus. Yesterday, having heard no more, Richard popped into the shop on his way back to work after lunch. George told him that yes, he had checked and we did indeed have a new controller in June, so we won't be charged for another new one. In fact, he said we won't have to pay much at all... though he didn't quote a figure.
So that's good.
Richard asked when we might get the dishwasher back again.
Well, George said, the engineers fixed the problem, they thought. So they ran it through a couple of cycles to make sure. And on the second one, it overheated dramatically again. So evidently they hadn't fixed the problem, and were doing some more tests.
'Tomorrow', he said.
However... the English word 'tomorrow' is translated into Greek as 'αυριο' (if that just looks like random symbols or squares because you don't have the correct Greek font on your computer, the transliteration is, roughly, 'avrio'). Unfortunately, it doesn't mean quite the same as 'tomorrow', which is a fairly specific word. It can.. but as far as we can determine, what it really means is, 'some time after today'.
Richard forgot to ask whether it would really be 'tomorrow' or 'αυριο'.. so I assumed the latter. Which is good, because it didn't arrive back today.
I'm almost getting used to washing dishes after meals, although I don't suppose I will ever like it.
George said there was a thermostat problem. We'd rather guessed that, since the dishwasher was overheating so badly. He said the engineers were replacing that, and the main controller, and that it would cost €130. Ouch!
But, Richard pointed out, we had the main controller replaced at the end of June. It didn't seem unreasonable then, after four years of unstinting service. But surely it should last more than five months...?
Unfortunately, we had no paperwork. Some things are still very informal in Cyprus. We paid cash, and were not even given a receipt, let alone any kind of guarantee.
However, it IS Cyprus. Yesterday, having heard no more, Richard popped into the shop on his way back to work after lunch. George told him that yes, he had checked and we did indeed have a new controller in June, so we won't be charged for another new one. In fact, he said we won't have to pay much at all... though he didn't quote a figure.
So that's good.
Richard asked when we might get the dishwasher back again.
Well, George said, the engineers fixed the problem, they thought. So they ran it through a couple of cycles to make sure. And on the second one, it overheated dramatically again. So evidently they hadn't fixed the problem, and were doing some more tests.
'Tomorrow', he said.
However... the English word 'tomorrow' is translated into Greek as 'αυριο' (if that just looks like random symbols or squares because you don't have the correct Greek font on your computer, the transliteration is, roughly, 'avrio'). Unfortunately, it doesn't mean quite the same as 'tomorrow', which is a fairly specific word. It can.. but as far as we can determine, what it really means is, 'some time after today'.
Richard forgot to ask whether it would really be 'tomorrow' or 'αυριο'.. so I assumed the latter. Which is good, because it didn't arrive back today.
I'm almost getting used to washing dishes after meals, although I don't suppose I will ever like it.
Tuesday, November 23, 2010
Recycling plastic, metal and drink containers in Cyprus
I was very excited when we received our recycling pack a couple of months ago. I started collecting everything that could be recycled, according to the brochure. On Mondays, when I walk to the Post Office, I take any glass recycling with me, to drop into the green glass recycling domes that have sprung up all around Larnaka.
And yet - to my surprise, there isn't actually much to recycle. Last week, I forgot to take any glass with me. Yesterday, my two weeks' worth of glass consisted of:
Two empty spice jars
Two empty jam jars
One empty wine bottle
The wine bottle had been sitting in our fridge for about a few months. Perhaps since we had friends over for our anniversary. There was maybe a quarter of a bottle left, and I've gradually been using it in cooking. Finally I finished it about ten days ago. The jam jars had been given to us by other people; I never buy jam, but make my own and re-use the same jars.
I did have about half a box of paper to put out last night. Most if it was junk mail that had arrived in our letter-box, but there were a few papers from our printer that couldn't be used any more.
As for the 'PMD' category - plastic, metal and drink containers - I'd collected a month's worth of those. We have to put them in bags, which can be bought from the supermarket; I don't mind buying them (they don't cost any more than regular black sacks) but feel reluctant to put one out when there are only a couple of items in it. So I kept on collecting containers until it was about a third full:
I'm quite pleased to discover that we really don't use many containers that can be recycled; it means we probably weren't wasting as much as I thought we were. Cooking just everything from scratch, and relying on plenty of fresh fruit and vegetables does help - although I rather wish we had some way of making compost, since my black sacks are, basically, full of fruit and vegetable waste now. Plus a bit of plastic that can't be recycled.
Here, for anyone curious to know what was in my PMD bag, is an exclusive photo of the contents:
I even, sad person that I am, made a list:
Three milk containers (two plastic, one tetrapack - I buy whatever's best value)
Two juice tetrapack containers (I don't drink it much, but Richard does sometimes)
One empty olive oil bottle (it's the only oil I use; one litre typically lasts us a couple of months)
One empty shampoo bottle
One empty baked beans tin (yes, we do sometimes eat ready-canned baked beans)
One empty mackerel can (an occasional lunch-time treat)
Two empty tuna cans (we have tuna mayonnaise for lunch sometimes)
One empty passata container (bought before I started making my own)
Two jar lids (from the jam jars that went into the glass recycling)
One bubble mixture bottle (the first one finished from my birthday present)
One washing-up liquid bottle (they usually last us about three or four months)
Three empty ketchup bottles. Yes, three. I do use them in cooking as well as sometimes on meals.
- and that's all. Which I don't think is too bad, really. Well, other than the ketchup which I suppose I could make myself too. I no longer buy canned tomatoes and although I do buy canned sweetcorn, we evidently haven't eaten any in the past month. I was surprised that there were only two tuna cans - I had expected more. Perhaps someone threw them away without thinking.
I also added in an empty large fabric conditioner bottle which someone else, for some reason, had left in our dustbin a few days ago. The regular dustmen won't now take anything that's clearly recyclable.
The recycling truck comes around our neighbourhood around 9.00pm Monday nights. It takes PMD and paper every week, which seems pretty efficient. They don't yet seem to have reached all the streets in Larnaka, and I don't know how much is being collected; we don't see very many bags or boxes put out, but at least it's a start.
And yet - to my surprise, there isn't actually much to recycle. Last week, I forgot to take any glass with me. Yesterday, my two weeks' worth of glass consisted of:
Two empty spice jars
Two empty jam jars
One empty wine bottle
The wine bottle had been sitting in our fridge for about a few months. Perhaps since we had friends over for our anniversary. There was maybe a quarter of a bottle left, and I've gradually been using it in cooking. Finally I finished it about ten days ago. The jam jars had been given to us by other people; I never buy jam, but make my own and re-use the same jars.
I did have about half a box of paper to put out last night. Most if it was junk mail that had arrived in our letter-box, but there were a few papers from our printer that couldn't be used any more.
As for the 'PMD' category - plastic, metal and drink containers - I'd collected a month's worth of those. We have to put them in bags, which can be bought from the supermarket; I don't mind buying them (they don't cost any more than regular black sacks) but feel reluctant to put one out when there are only a couple of items in it. So I kept on collecting containers until it was about a third full:
I'm quite pleased to discover that we really don't use many containers that can be recycled; it means we probably weren't wasting as much as I thought we were. Cooking just everything from scratch, and relying on plenty of fresh fruit and vegetables does help - although I rather wish we had some way of making compost, since my black sacks are, basically, full of fruit and vegetable waste now. Plus a bit of plastic that can't be recycled.
Here, for anyone curious to know what was in my PMD bag, is an exclusive photo of the contents:
I even, sad person that I am, made a list:
Three milk containers (two plastic, one tetrapack - I buy whatever's best value)
Two juice tetrapack containers (I don't drink it much, but Richard does sometimes)
One empty olive oil bottle (it's the only oil I use; one litre typically lasts us a couple of months)
One empty shampoo bottle
One empty baked beans tin (yes, we do sometimes eat ready-canned baked beans)
One empty mackerel can (an occasional lunch-time treat)
Two empty tuna cans (we have tuna mayonnaise for lunch sometimes)
One empty passata container (bought before I started making my own)
Two jar lids (from the jam jars that went into the glass recycling)
One bubble mixture bottle (the first one finished from my birthday present)
One washing-up liquid bottle (they usually last us about three or four months)
Three empty ketchup bottles. Yes, three. I do use them in cooking as well as sometimes on meals.
- and that's all. Which I don't think is too bad, really. Well, other than the ketchup which I suppose I could make myself too. I no longer buy canned tomatoes and although I do buy canned sweetcorn, we evidently haven't eaten any in the past month. I was surprised that there were only two tuna cans - I had expected more. Perhaps someone threw them away without thinking.
I also added in an empty large fabric conditioner bottle which someone else, for some reason, had left in our dustbin a few days ago. The regular dustmen won't now take anything that's clearly recyclable.
The recycling truck comes around our neighbourhood around 9.00pm Monday nights. It takes PMD and paper every week, which seems pretty efficient. They don't yet seem to have reached all the streets in Larnaka, and I don't know how much is being collected; we don't see very many bags or boxes put out, but at least it's a start.
Monday, November 22, 2010
Christmas tree in downtown Larnaka
I should have been expecting it. It's a month since the Christmas tree went up outside our local Orphanides Express, after all. And it was exactly this time last year when I saw the large tree near St Lazarus.
But still, it was a surprise when, walking into Larnaka this morning to check our PO Box, I rounded a bend and saw the tree:
With the glorious sunshine, blue skies and warm temperatures we're having this year it seemed somehow even more inappropriate to put it up so early. But I suppose it is only a little over a month until Christmas.
It's exactly the same as last year's tree, right down (or up) to that somewhat bizarre star-ish thing on the top:
But still, it was a surprise when, walking into Larnaka this morning to check our PO Box, I rounded a bend and saw the tree:
With the glorious sunshine, blue skies and warm temperatures we're having this year it seemed somehow even more inappropriate to put it up so early. But I suppose it is only a little over a month until Christmas.
It's exactly the same as last year's tree, right down (or up) to that somewhat bizarre star-ish thing on the top:
Sunday, November 21, 2010
Little visitors that we really don't want...
I mentioned last Tuesday that our dishwasher had to be taken away to be repaired.
It still hasn't returned. Richard did call on Friday, and they said there was a problem with the thermostat, but gave no idea as to when we might see it again.
In the meantime, the cats, naturally curious, sniffed around the space where the dishwasher has sat for the past four years and more. They were interested when it was gunky, and also interested when it was clean.
Sophia seemed to be showing particular interest.
We couldn't understand why it was taking her so long to get used to this space. Then on Friday morning, as I wandered sleepily into the kitchen to put the kettle on, Sophia suddenly belted across the kitchen like a rocket, made a leap, and quickly rushed into the dining room. I wondered if she'd found a cockroach, perhaps... it's not the season for them, but I had seen a sleepy one the previous day. She doesn't usually race for them, though, and if she does find one, she bats it around the floor.
She wouldn't let me go near her - any time I approached, she turned around. But I could see a tail dangling out of her mouth. I then heard a crunch from behind the television. Being of a squeamish disposition, I didn't go and investigate. But my great powers of deduction suggested that she must have caught and eaten a mouse.
We didn't find any evidence. But she kept on sniffing around the dishwasher hole (when she wasn't sniffing around behind the television) although, as far as I know, she hasn't found anything else.
It's rather worrying, really. Years ago, we were told that most households in Cyprus get mice at some point, but not if they have indoor cats. Mice are usually intelligent enough to keep away from homes where cats are in charge. And our part of the house is upstairs, which I would have thought would be quite tricky from a mouse entry perspective.
Richard did tidy the boiler room, which is below the kitchen window and might well have had a mouse's nest in it - he didn't find anything. And as far as we know, none of the cats has found any more mice. So we hope it was just a one-off.
We also hope we'll get the dishwasher back some time this week, preferably without too huge a bill...
It still hasn't returned. Richard did call on Friday, and they said there was a problem with the thermostat, but gave no idea as to when we might see it again.
In the meantime, the cats, naturally curious, sniffed around the space where the dishwasher has sat for the past four years and more. They were interested when it was gunky, and also interested when it was clean.
Sophia seemed to be showing particular interest.
We couldn't understand why it was taking her so long to get used to this space. Then on Friday morning, as I wandered sleepily into the kitchen to put the kettle on, Sophia suddenly belted across the kitchen like a rocket, made a leap, and quickly rushed into the dining room. I wondered if she'd found a cockroach, perhaps... it's not the season for them, but I had seen a sleepy one the previous day. She doesn't usually race for them, though, and if she does find one, she bats it around the floor.
She wouldn't let me go near her - any time I approached, she turned around. But I could see a tail dangling out of her mouth. I then heard a crunch from behind the television. Being of a squeamish disposition, I didn't go and investigate. But my great powers of deduction suggested that she must have caught and eaten a mouse.
We didn't find any evidence. But she kept on sniffing around the dishwasher hole (when she wasn't sniffing around behind the television) although, as far as I know, she hasn't found anything else.
It's rather worrying, really. Years ago, we were told that most households in Cyprus get mice at some point, but not if they have indoor cats. Mice are usually intelligent enough to keep away from homes where cats are in charge. And our part of the house is upstairs, which I would have thought would be quite tricky from a mouse entry perspective.
Richard did tidy the boiler room, which is below the kitchen window and might well have had a mouse's nest in it - he didn't find anything. And as far as we know, none of the cats has found any more mice. So we hope it was just a one-off.
We also hope we'll get the dishwasher back some time this week, preferably without too huge a bill...
Saturday, November 20, 2010
Shopping in Larnaka
Some people like shopping. Others even talk about 'retail therapy' .. although it took me many years to realise they actually meant it, rather than (as seemed more likely to me) needing some kind of therapy after the pain of shopping.
I do like shopping online. I like bookshops too, particularly second-hand ones. And I don't mind walking to the local fruit shop or bakery, or even the small supermarket nearby, with a list, and an eye for possible extra bargains, and spending no more than five minutes in the shop.
Indeed, now we're only going to the supermarket about once a month, I don't even mind that.
But occasionally, when Richard isn't spending the day at King Malu, we think about things we need for the house, and then set out in the car for an hour or two of shopping. Inevitably I start with some enthusiasm, start to get pretty fed up after about an hour, and come home tired and headachey when we've finished.
Today was no exception.
What we went to do:
1) Look for some kind of sealant for around the bath
2) Look for something to discourage pigeons from roosting around the pipes near the roof
3) See if we could find out how much a new shower door might cost
I had a few other things in my mind, vaguely, if we had time or went near anywhere suitable:
4) Have a look for a few extra bedding plants, now the weather's less hot
5) Look for new trainers for both of us
6) Go to the Thrift Store to see if they have any centrifugal juice extractors
So.
We first went to NEK, an old-fashioned kind of DIY/hardware shop which Richard had been to regularly, but which I had never before visited. A nice place, no nasty fluorescent lights, various interesting bits and pieces.
We found the stuff to go around the bath, so that was good. I also spotted some of the multi-pin hanger things that seem to be necessary for our walls, since we have a couple of photos in frames which have been waiting for about six months to be hung up.
We found some chicken wire, after much searching, and Richard bought a metre of it.
We saw, very inexpensively, some of the little white sock things that we always need to go around the bases of our dining room chairs, to stop them screeching on the floor... but couldn't decide whether we needed 25mm or 22mm. So didn't buy any. (For the record, Richard was correct, and we should have bought the 22mm size).
Then we wondered where to look for shower doors. Ours were a bit old and manky when we moved here, with a crack that's become worse over the years, and now the other end has broken. It would be nice to replace them. We drove past a few shops that didn't look hopeful. I remembered a shop that sells baths near where we used to live, so we drove there... only to find it closed. Not closed down, just shut because it's the weekend.
So then we tried Andreou Bros, which is a rather bigger DIY shop with nasty lighting, so we didn't stay long. They did have a couple of shower curtains, but no doors of the kind we want.
As we were wondering where to go next - and my tolerance of shopping and driving was starting to get lower - Richard had a phone call from his optician. The varifocal sunglasses he'd ordered were ready. So we drove towards town, parked on a side street about half a kilometre away, and walked. It was rather too sunny for me, but we managed to stay in the shade for much of the walk.
So Richard collected the sunglasses. And then, because we were near a small shoe shop which I've found very helpful (and good value) in the past, we went there. Richard found some suitable trainers pretty quickly - the only ones left, according to the man in charge, and he could have them for 17 euros, although the new price is 35. We have to trust that this is so, but 17 euros isn't a bad price and they fit well and looked OK. No box, but that's not a problem:
However, there was nothing I liked in my size, although the guy tried to selll me various other shoes which I didn't like at all..
By then, I was feeling very tired indeed and had had more than enough of shopping. But we thought we'd just pop into the Thrift Store, in case they happened to have any centrifugal juice extractors.
As it happened, they did - but it was a huge, three litre one which would look ridiculous in our kitchen. So, although it looked almost new and was a very good price, we decided against it.
However, Richard spotted a Breville sandwich toaster, for nine euros. It looked in very good condition too, still with its box, and instructions. He very much likes toasted sandwiches, so we decided to buy it. If there's any problem we can return it on Monday.
We didn't use it at lunch-time, because my home-made bread is far too big for it:
- though of course we could cut them to size. This afternoon I popped around the corner to Orphanides Express and bought a loaf of ready-sliced bread that looked about the right size. We'll keep that in the freezer for Richard to have midnight toasties... or perhaps our evening meal on Sunday.
By the time we got home I was feeling exhausted, rather dehydrated and a bit headachey. We did, at least, succeed in the first two items on the list, and half of the fifth, and I suppose we succeeded in the sixth too since we did look for juice extractors, even though we didn't find a suitable one.
Bedding plants will just have to wait for another occasion.
I do like shopping online. I like bookshops too, particularly second-hand ones. And I don't mind walking to the local fruit shop or bakery, or even the small supermarket nearby, with a list, and an eye for possible extra bargains, and spending no more than five minutes in the shop.
Indeed, now we're only going to the supermarket about once a month, I don't even mind that.
But occasionally, when Richard isn't spending the day at King Malu, we think about things we need for the house, and then set out in the car for an hour or two of shopping. Inevitably I start with some enthusiasm, start to get pretty fed up after about an hour, and come home tired and headachey when we've finished.
Today was no exception.
What we went to do:
1) Look for some kind of sealant for around the bath
2) Look for something to discourage pigeons from roosting around the pipes near the roof
3) See if we could find out how much a new shower door might cost
I had a few other things in my mind, vaguely, if we had time or went near anywhere suitable:
4) Have a look for a few extra bedding plants, now the weather's less hot
5) Look for new trainers for both of us
6) Go to the Thrift Store to see if they have any centrifugal juice extractors
So.
We first went to NEK, an old-fashioned kind of DIY/hardware shop which Richard had been to regularly, but which I had never before visited. A nice place, no nasty fluorescent lights, various interesting bits and pieces.
We found the stuff to go around the bath, so that was good. I also spotted some of the multi-pin hanger things that seem to be necessary for our walls, since we have a couple of photos in frames which have been waiting for about six months to be hung up.
We found some chicken wire, after much searching, and Richard bought a metre of it.
We saw, very inexpensively, some of the little white sock things that we always need to go around the bases of our dining room chairs, to stop them screeching on the floor... but couldn't decide whether we needed 25mm or 22mm. So didn't buy any. (For the record, Richard was correct, and we should have bought the 22mm size).
Then we wondered where to look for shower doors. Ours were a bit old and manky when we moved here, with a crack that's become worse over the years, and now the other end has broken. It would be nice to replace them. We drove past a few shops that didn't look hopeful. I remembered a shop that sells baths near where we used to live, so we drove there... only to find it closed. Not closed down, just shut because it's the weekend.
So then we tried Andreou Bros, which is a rather bigger DIY shop with nasty lighting, so we didn't stay long. They did have a couple of shower curtains, but no doors of the kind we want.
As we were wondering where to go next - and my tolerance of shopping and driving was starting to get lower - Richard had a phone call from his optician. The varifocal sunglasses he'd ordered were ready. So we drove towards town, parked on a side street about half a kilometre away, and walked. It was rather too sunny for me, but we managed to stay in the shade for much of the walk.
So Richard collected the sunglasses. And then, because we were near a small shoe shop which I've found very helpful (and good value) in the past, we went there. Richard found some suitable trainers pretty quickly - the only ones left, according to the man in charge, and he could have them for 17 euros, although the new price is 35. We have to trust that this is so, but 17 euros isn't a bad price and they fit well and looked OK. No box, but that's not a problem:
However, there was nothing I liked in my size, although the guy tried to selll me various other shoes which I didn't like at all..
By then, I was feeling very tired indeed and had had more than enough of shopping. But we thought we'd just pop into the Thrift Store, in case they happened to have any centrifugal juice extractors.
As it happened, they did - but it was a huge, three litre one which would look ridiculous in our kitchen. So, although it looked almost new and was a very good price, we decided against it.
However, Richard spotted a Breville sandwich toaster, for nine euros. It looked in very good condition too, still with its box, and instructions. He very much likes toasted sandwiches, so we decided to buy it. If there's any problem we can return it on Monday.
We didn't use it at lunch-time, because my home-made bread is far too big for it:
- though of course we could cut them to size. This afternoon I popped around the corner to Orphanides Express and bought a loaf of ready-sliced bread that looked about the right size. We'll keep that in the freezer for Richard to have midnight toasties... or perhaps our evening meal on Sunday.
By the time we got home I was feeling exhausted, rather dehydrated and a bit headachey. We did, at least, succeed in the first two items on the list, and half of the fifth, and I suppose we succeeded in the sixth too since we did look for juice extractors, even though we didn't find a suitable one.
Bedding plants will just have to wait for another occasion.
Friday, November 19, 2010
Warm November weather in Cyprus
After tomorrow we will be two-thirds of the way through November. And while the weather here in Cyprus is undoubtedly much more pleasant than it was during the summer, it still hasn't turned into winter. My memory is of that happening after about the first ten days of November, previous years. One day we would be going around in tee-shirts and sandals, the next we'd be digging out socks and sweatshirts. We'd move from our thin duvet to the thicker one, and wonder if we needed them both together. We'd suddenly remember that Richard hadn't yet serviced the central heating, but really wish we could switch it on anyway.
However, that hasn't happened so far this year. The temperature today was 27C in the shade. I'm wearing jeans rather than shorts - I've been doing so for a month or so now - but have not yet got out any sweatshirts. I do have a very light-weight zip-up jacket which I'm wearing, sometimes, in the evening. And I'm using my winter dressing-gown first thing in the morning. Overnight temperatures are about 14-15C, and we definitely need the thin duvet.
But I've only once needed the electric water heater. Richard's planning to service the central heating tomorrow, although even he hasn't suggested that we might switch it on, so far. The ten-day forecast shows sunshine, with daytime temperatures of 25-27C.
There are times during the summer when I rather wish we were in the UK rather than Cyprus. But right now, hearing of frosts and rainy, grey days in the UK, I'm more than contented to be living in Cyprus. No doubt a cold spell will hit eventually, but in the meantime this dry, warm weather is just about perfect.
However, that hasn't happened so far this year. The temperature today was 27C in the shade. I'm wearing jeans rather than shorts - I've been doing so for a month or so now - but have not yet got out any sweatshirts. I do have a very light-weight zip-up jacket which I'm wearing, sometimes, in the evening. And I'm using my winter dressing-gown first thing in the morning. Overnight temperatures are about 14-15C, and we definitely need the thin duvet.
But I've only once needed the electric water heater. Richard's planning to service the central heating tomorrow, although even he hasn't suggested that we might switch it on, so far. The ten-day forecast shows sunshine, with daytime temperatures of 25-27C.
There are times during the summer when I rather wish we were in the UK rather than Cyprus. But right now, hearing of frosts and rainy, grey days in the UK, I'm more than contented to be living in Cyprus. No doubt a cold spell will hit eventually, but in the meantime this dry, warm weather is just about perfect.
Thursday, November 18, 2010
Junk mail in Cyprus
I've mentioned, fairly regularly, how we seem to get a vast amount of junk mail here in Cyprus. We see people going around, often on motor-bikes, stuffing brochures and leaflets into mail boxes. Nearly every day there's something. I do usually give it a quick glance before throwing it out. Occasionally we've spotted something we wanted, on special offer. Or a new shop that might be worth a visit.
Just occasionally, as happened in September, there's something useful such as our recycling pack, which was mixed up in junk mail. From that date, other advertising bumph has gone to paper recycling rather than the bin.
A couple of days ago, Richard came in carrying this:
Inside was this:
which we assume is a new kind of fluid for the washing machine. The pictures do indicate that it's for clothes rather than dishes, although the leaflet is entirely in Greek.
I haven't used it yet, but since we were given this free gift from Dixan, I thought I would at least mention it here. I normally use large boxes of Ariel washing powder (at about half the strength recommended) but am always happy to try out something new. Particularly if it's given to us.
Just occasionally, as happened in September, there's something useful such as our recycling pack, which was mixed up in junk mail. From that date, other advertising bumph has gone to paper recycling rather than the bin.
A couple of days ago, Richard came in carrying this:
Inside was this:
which we assume is a new kind of fluid for the washing machine. The pictures do indicate that it's for clothes rather than dishes, although the leaflet is entirely in Greek.
I haven't used it yet, but since we were given this free gift from Dixan, I thought I would at least mention it here. I normally use large boxes of Ariel washing powder (at about half the strength recommended) but am always happy to try out something new. Particularly if it's given to us.
Wednesday, November 17, 2010
Online spares in Cyprus
Not only is there a fairly limited range of electrical appliances in Cyprus - although considerably better than used to be the case - but it's often quite difficult to get things repaired or replaced. Even when under guarantee.
We've had particular problems with our blender, which we bought just over a year ago. We had several to choose from, for a change, and made the decision based on what it looked like. And it does look good in the kitchen. But even from new, it dribbled slightly from the bottom, from time to time. By June this year, it was so bad that I couldn't use it. We could see the problem - broken plastic at the bottom. So we took the blender to be repaired. I had the receipt, and we did, eventually, get our replacement at no cost since it was undoubtedly still under guarantee. But not without considerable debate.
About a month ago, it started leaking again. And once started, it got worse and worse until, once more, it was unusable. I discovered a crack in the base of the jug.
We could, of course, have taken it to Orphanides to be repaired once more, but neither of us was keen. We really don't like conflict at all. And perhaps it was my fault, for having used soups that were too hot (not that I'd made soup for many months), or ice too cold.
So, after a couple of weeks of putting it off, I did some research online, wondering if we could find a suitable spare part. I came across Belstar Electrics, who claim to supply spares and accessories for kitchen appliances. I searched for my blender model, and sure enough they were offering the jug base, at about £15. Would they deliver to Cyprus, I wondered? If so, it would be much easier simply to order one than to go to the trouble of taking it to Orphanides, and then arguing over the €20 they would try to charge us.
Belstar did indeed deliver internationally. With postage it came to around £20, but we thought it worth trying.
Alas, they did not have a suitable part for our deceased juice extractor. But they wrote a very nice email, within a few hours of me writing my query. I was most imppressed.
In the mailbox this week our replacement base was awaiting us. It was extremely well-packed; the part was in a double layer of bubble-wrap, and was then also padded in a small box with polystyrene beads. The small box was then packed inside a slightly larger box, held in place with more polystyrene beads. Parcel tape held it firmly closed.
The base fits perfectly. The blender no longer leaks.
While I hope we won't have too many more broken appliances, I shall certainly plan on using Belstar Electrics again if we do.
We've had particular problems with our blender, which we bought just over a year ago. We had several to choose from, for a change, and made the decision based on what it looked like. And it does look good in the kitchen. But even from new, it dribbled slightly from the bottom, from time to time. By June this year, it was so bad that I couldn't use it. We could see the problem - broken plastic at the bottom. So we took the blender to be repaired. I had the receipt, and we did, eventually, get our replacement at no cost since it was undoubtedly still under guarantee. But not without considerable debate.
About a month ago, it started leaking again. And once started, it got worse and worse until, once more, it was unusable. I discovered a crack in the base of the jug.
We could, of course, have taken it to Orphanides to be repaired once more, but neither of us was keen. We really don't like conflict at all. And perhaps it was my fault, for having used soups that were too hot (not that I'd made soup for many months), or ice too cold.
So, after a couple of weeks of putting it off, I did some research online, wondering if we could find a suitable spare part. I came across Belstar Electrics, who claim to supply spares and accessories for kitchen appliances. I searched for my blender model, and sure enough they were offering the jug base, at about £15. Would they deliver to Cyprus, I wondered? If so, it would be much easier simply to order one than to go to the trouble of taking it to Orphanides, and then arguing over the €20 they would try to charge us.
Belstar did indeed deliver internationally. With postage it came to around £20, but we thought it worth trying.
Alas, they did not have a suitable part for our deceased juice extractor. But they wrote a very nice email, within a few hours of me writing my query. I was most imppressed.
In the mailbox this week our replacement base was awaiting us. It was extremely well-packed; the part was in a double layer of bubble-wrap, and was then also padded in a small box with polystyrene beads. The small box was then packed inside a slightly larger box, held in place with more polystyrene beads. Parcel tape held it firmly closed.
The base fits perfectly. The blender no longer leaks.
While I hope we won't have too many more broken appliances, I shall certainly plan on using Belstar Electrics again if we do.
Tuesday, November 16, 2010
There's a hole in my kitchen...
There's a sad-looking gap in our kitchen at present:
Those familiar with the layout will spot that it's where the dishwasher usually sits. I mentioned a couple of weeks ago that it was running much too hot - washing the dishes very effectively, but at such a hot temperature that it has to cool down for about half an hour - at least - before I'm comfortable removing them.
In addition to probably using a lot of extra electricity heating the water so much, it made us concerned about safety so we were no longer running the dishwasher overnight, or while out. Not a huge problem.. but a concern.
So, yesterday Richard went to talk to our friendly white goods shop, where we bought the dishwasher four-and-a-half years ago. They mended the controller a few months ago - the first thing that had gone wrong since we bought it. But when Richard described the problem, they said they'd have to take it away to be checked.
The engineer arrived late morning yesterday, just as the dishwasher was finishing a full load. Good timing, really, since he could see - and feel - immediately what the problem was, since I opened it and a gush of steam came out of the top. He didn't have a whole lot of English, but agreed with me that it was indeed 'too hot'.
Of course, not such good timing in that I had to remove everything while it was still burning to the touch.
The engineer unwired and unplumbed the dishwasher, and then wheeled it down our outside steps on one of those ingenious sack trolleys whose wheels go down step by step, rather like an overgrown Slinky toy. He said that he would call when he had any news.
I did take the opportunity of cleaning the square on the floor where the dishwasher had stood all this time, before taking the photo. It was rather disgustingly gunky. A friend who called in to return some books said that everyone has gunk under large appliances. I suppose she's right.
No news from the dishwasher hospital to date. So I've been re-discovering the art of washing up dishes in the sink. Perhaps I had started taking the dishwasher for granted too much...
Those familiar with the layout will spot that it's where the dishwasher usually sits. I mentioned a couple of weeks ago that it was running much too hot - washing the dishes very effectively, but at such a hot temperature that it has to cool down for about half an hour - at least - before I'm comfortable removing them.
In addition to probably using a lot of extra electricity heating the water so much, it made us concerned about safety so we were no longer running the dishwasher overnight, or while out. Not a huge problem.. but a concern.
So, yesterday Richard went to talk to our friendly white goods shop, where we bought the dishwasher four-and-a-half years ago. They mended the controller a few months ago - the first thing that had gone wrong since we bought it. But when Richard described the problem, they said they'd have to take it away to be checked.
The engineer arrived late morning yesterday, just as the dishwasher was finishing a full load. Good timing, really, since he could see - and feel - immediately what the problem was, since I opened it and a gush of steam came out of the top. He didn't have a whole lot of English, but agreed with me that it was indeed 'too hot'.
Of course, not such good timing in that I had to remove everything while it was still burning to the touch.
The engineer unwired and unplumbed the dishwasher, and then wheeled it down our outside steps on one of those ingenious sack trolleys whose wheels go down step by step, rather like an overgrown Slinky toy. He said that he would call when he had any news.
I did take the opportunity of cleaning the square on the floor where the dishwasher had stood all this time, before taking the photo. It was rather disgustingly gunky. A friend who called in to return some books said that everyone has gunk under large appliances. I suppose she's right.
No news from the dishwasher hospital to date. So I've been re-discovering the art of washing up dishes in the sink. Perhaps I had started taking the dishwasher for granted too much...
Monday, November 15, 2010
Pondering Tessie's ancestry...
Cats in Cyprus come in many shapes, colours and sizes. There are fairly large populations of feral cats, popular with some Cypriots because they keep the snake population down, although others, sadly, kick them (or worse) and consider them vermin.
Despite a wide range of cats, there's a fairly typical 'Middle Eastern' cat shape that we see fairly commonly. A hint of siamese, perhaps, but basically long and lean with large ears, and good at hunting. Survival of the fittest, I suppose, for hot summers and limited food supplies over the centuries.
Cleo, our 12-year-old cat, is typical of these cats. Her daughter Sophia, who will be 12 in February, is similar, although heavier, tortoiseshell rather than black, and considerably more talkative.
But Tessie, our youngest cat (she will soon be ten) is very different. We didn't adopt her: she adopted us. She's not long and lean; she's more rounded, with fluffy fur that she grooms almost continually. And the most remarkable tail:
We'd never seen anything like it. It seemed rather out of place at first, but we soon got used to it. Tessie has other characteristics that make her stand out from our other cats too. She's much more playful, for one thing. They were all energetic and playful as kittens, and even now will occasionally bat something random around the floor for a few minutes. But Tessie used to go and find round Lego pieces to play with. She, of all the cats, is the most likely to attack fingers or toes - even now she's middle-aged. She would love to play with Cleo and Sophia, too, although they are not interested. And Tessie sometimes thinks that rolling dice are for her benefit:
One of the things that particularly endeared us to Tessie when she arrived on our doorstep nearly ten years ago was that she was very good with small children. Cleo and Sophia are not. Sophia's twin Jemima, who disappeared a couple of years ago, was the worst of all. Any sign of a small child in the house meant that we would find her hiding under the bed.
But Tessie, newly arrived, spent hours playing with small visiting children. We assumed she must have belonged to a family with little ones before getting lost, or abandoned. These days, with small children fairly frequent guests in our house, Cleo tends to vanish, Sophia complains a bit and then goes upstairs... but Tessie often stays, and likes to play with children. She even let my small friend Helen stroke her last year:
Tessie's voice is nothing like that of the others - occasionally she seems to be trying to mew, but no sound comes out. None that we can hear, anyway. She can make the most appalling noise when defending her territory from other cats, but her normal 'talking' voice - when she is outside a door which she wants opened, for instance - is a kind of chirrup. We wondered for a while if her first family had caged birds.
But as with a person, unusual characteristics gradually seem less significant as one gets to know them better. Tessie likes a lot of affection - possibly more than the other two - which is fine. The worst problem we have with her is that she likes to 'mark' territory - something we thought that only male cats could do. She stands up, her tail quivering, and sprays. It doesn't smell as bad as a male cat, and we don't at all mind if it's outside. We're less impressed when she does it inside as she does, any time she's under stress or when something new comes into the house - such as a suitcase. Recently this has been much less frequent than it used to be; perhaps she's becoming more relaxed.
Last week, I was reading a book called 'Paw Tracks at Owl Cottage', which was about four Maine Coon cats in the UK. I didn't know anything about this breed, other than having a vague idea that they were generally enormous cats.
So imagine my surprise when I read that the distinguishing feature of these cats is not their size (which may be huge, but not always) - but their thick fluffy tails. So large and unusual that they got their name due to a mistaken belief that they were somehow descended from raccoons. Just like Tessie's tail.
Out of curiosity, I googled 'Maine Coon cats'. I found this useful page from a Maine Coon cat breeder. Amongst other things, I read:
"Their dispositions remain kittenish throughout their lives"
"they have a distinctive, chirping trill"
"They generally get along well with kids"
"their eyes.. are large, round, expressive, and set a a slightly oblique angle"
(they have) "round, tufted feet "
If that weren't enough, I read on another site that most (though not all) Maine Coon cats have white chests - as Tessie does - and that both male and female Maine Coon cats are prone to spraying to mark their territory.
Of course, we have no way of ever knowing who Tessie's parents were, let alone her other ancestors. She's unlikely to be any kind of pure-bred cat - if she had been, her original family would (I assume) have looked after her better, and made far more effort to find her when she disappeared. Piecing together clues over the years, we think she was probably left behind when her original family moved house.
But still. A lot of things fell into place in my mind. It was amazing just how many details fit together. It won't make any difference to us knowing that she may well have Maine Coon in her ancestry - but it's nice to understand, at last, why (perhaps) she is the way she is in so many respects.
Despite a wide range of cats, there's a fairly typical 'Middle Eastern' cat shape that we see fairly commonly. A hint of siamese, perhaps, but basically long and lean with large ears, and good at hunting. Survival of the fittest, I suppose, for hot summers and limited food supplies over the centuries.
Cleo, our 12-year-old cat, is typical of these cats. Her daughter Sophia, who will be 12 in February, is similar, although heavier, tortoiseshell rather than black, and considerably more talkative.
But Tessie, our youngest cat (she will soon be ten) is very different. We didn't adopt her: she adopted us. She's not long and lean; she's more rounded, with fluffy fur that she grooms almost continually. And the most remarkable tail:
We'd never seen anything like it. It seemed rather out of place at first, but we soon got used to it. Tessie has other characteristics that make her stand out from our other cats too. She's much more playful, for one thing. They were all energetic and playful as kittens, and even now will occasionally bat something random around the floor for a few minutes. But Tessie used to go and find round Lego pieces to play with. She, of all the cats, is the most likely to attack fingers or toes - even now she's middle-aged. She would love to play with Cleo and Sophia, too, although they are not interested. And Tessie sometimes thinks that rolling dice are for her benefit:
One of the things that particularly endeared us to Tessie when she arrived on our doorstep nearly ten years ago was that she was very good with small children. Cleo and Sophia are not. Sophia's twin Jemima, who disappeared a couple of years ago, was the worst of all. Any sign of a small child in the house meant that we would find her hiding under the bed.
But Tessie, newly arrived, spent hours playing with small visiting children. We assumed she must have belonged to a family with little ones before getting lost, or abandoned. These days, with small children fairly frequent guests in our house, Cleo tends to vanish, Sophia complains a bit and then goes upstairs... but Tessie often stays, and likes to play with children. She even let my small friend Helen stroke her last year:
Tessie's voice is nothing like that of the others - occasionally she seems to be trying to mew, but no sound comes out. None that we can hear, anyway. She can make the most appalling noise when defending her territory from other cats, but her normal 'talking' voice - when she is outside a door which she wants opened, for instance - is a kind of chirrup. We wondered for a while if her first family had caged birds.
But as with a person, unusual characteristics gradually seem less significant as one gets to know them better. Tessie likes a lot of affection - possibly more than the other two - which is fine. The worst problem we have with her is that she likes to 'mark' territory - something we thought that only male cats could do. She stands up, her tail quivering, and sprays. It doesn't smell as bad as a male cat, and we don't at all mind if it's outside. We're less impressed when she does it inside as she does, any time she's under stress or when something new comes into the house - such as a suitcase. Recently this has been much less frequent than it used to be; perhaps she's becoming more relaxed.
Last week, I was reading a book called 'Paw Tracks at Owl Cottage', which was about four Maine Coon cats in the UK. I didn't know anything about this breed, other than having a vague idea that they were generally enormous cats.
So imagine my surprise when I read that the distinguishing feature of these cats is not their size (which may be huge, but not always) - but their thick fluffy tails. So large and unusual that they got their name due to a mistaken belief that they were somehow descended from raccoons. Just like Tessie's tail.
Out of curiosity, I googled 'Maine Coon cats'. I found this useful page from a Maine Coon cat breeder. Amongst other things, I read:
"Their dispositions remain kittenish throughout their lives"
"they have a distinctive, chirping trill"
"They generally get along well with kids"
"their eyes.. are large, round, expressive, and set a a slightly oblique angle"
(they have) "round, tufted feet "
If that weren't enough, I read on another site that most (though not all) Maine Coon cats have white chests - as Tessie does - and that both male and female Maine Coon cats are prone to spraying to mark their territory.
Of course, we have no way of ever knowing who Tessie's parents were, let alone her other ancestors. She's unlikely to be any kind of pure-bred cat - if she had been, her original family would (I assume) have looked after her better, and made far more effort to find her when she disappeared. Piecing together clues over the years, we think she was probably left behind when her original family moved house.
But still. A lot of things fell into place in my mind. It was amazing just how many details fit together. It won't make any difference to us knowing that she may well have Maine Coon in her ancestry - but it's nice to understand, at last, why (perhaps) she is the way she is in so many respects.
Sunday, November 14, 2010
Not quite enough sun for our solar heating...
It IS the middle of November. So I suppose I shouldn't be surprised that, for the first time in MANY months, our hot water wasn't really very hot this morning. The day was a little overcast for the first few hours, so I suppose there just wasn't quite enough sun. I tried it two or three times before giving in and switching on our electric water heater for twenty minutes. That gave sufficient extra power to make the water more than hot enough for my shower, and since then the sun has been out, so it's fine.
Since we don't have anyone in our guest flat at present, Richard has temporarily altered the switching on the solar panels so that all the power goes into the hot water tank for the main part of the house. It will be interesting to see how much of a difference that makes.
In another couple of months I expect we'll routinely be using the electric water heater for 20, maybe even 40 minutes morning and evening. Once Summer ends in Cyprus, the weather does begin to feel more autumnal fairly rapidly. It won't be long before we need our warmer duvet at night.
Since we don't have anyone in our guest flat at present, Richard has temporarily altered the switching on the solar panels so that all the power goes into the hot water tank for the main part of the house. It will be interesting to see how much of a difference that makes.
In another couple of months I expect we'll routinely be using the electric water heater for 20, maybe even 40 minutes morning and evening. Once Summer ends in Cyprus, the weather does begin to feel more autumnal fairly rapidly. It won't be long before we need our warmer duvet at night.
Saturday, November 13, 2010
Mending the roof
I have mentioned before, many times, that when it rains, our roof leaks. Not in the bedrooms, thankfully, but over the stairs. It's been doing so for four years, although last winter it seemed to be worse than before, but I was pretty much used to it. A nuisance, but the stairs are hard tiled - no carpet to wreck - and it's easy enough to put buckets to catch most of the leaks, and mop up the rest later on.
We did have a builder come and fix something, the first winter we were here. The leak was slightly better subsequent to that, but then gradually got worse again. Richard spoken to one or two other builders since then, but they're all very hesitant even to come and look at a roof that isn't flat.
It began to worry me last winter that the leaks were so bad - or maybe it was just that we had more rain. We found we had to take photos of the walls by the stairs, as well as placing buckets. And the last couple of times, there was a rather unpleasant smell which lingered several days after the leaks had dried up.
So, Richard's sailing buddy suggested they take a look at it. Not during the summer when it was far too hot to be out on the roof in the middle of the day. I wasn't too keen on the idea - it's a long way to the ground, but they thought it would be safe enough. And today, with pleasant temperatures but no threat of rain, they decided to come and take a look. Two sailing friends came. They promised that if there was any danger at all, they'd go and fetch some ropes from King Malu. However, Richard was pretty certain that the worst of the problem was right over the balcony attached to Daniel's room, and pointed out that the angle of the roof is very slight.
So they crawled into the space above the bathroom, where Richard had seen some light. They crawled onto the roof, and discovered the hole, as well as some cracked concrete, and a couple of cracked tiles. And large amounts of pigeon dung, much of which had spilled over onto Daniel's balcony in the last few months.
They had some coffee and cake, then went away, and returned armed with various bits and pieces. Something to mend the hole, some special sealing paint and canvas to seal the cracks, another kind of mixture to mend the cracked tiles (since replacing them would have been a huge amount of effort, and would have required a specialist roofing person).
I suppose it took about an hour. Everything should have dried by now, and tomorrow Richard will put on another coat of the sealing solution. He'd like to find some way of scaring the pigeons away too, since it seems that part of the problem was that the rain was splashing down onto the piles of dung on the roof, and towards a cracked tile, then leaking through. That probably accounted for the nasty smell, too.
We won't know if all the problems are fixed until we have some heavy rain, and there's none predicted at the moment. But I'm very thankful to know that several holes and cracks are now sealed and watertight.
Richard and his friends have now gone out for a short sail.
We did have a builder come and fix something, the first winter we were here. The leak was slightly better subsequent to that, but then gradually got worse again. Richard spoken to one or two other builders since then, but they're all very hesitant even to come and look at a roof that isn't flat.
It began to worry me last winter that the leaks were so bad - or maybe it was just that we had more rain. We found we had to take photos of the walls by the stairs, as well as placing buckets. And the last couple of times, there was a rather unpleasant smell which lingered several days after the leaks had dried up.
So, Richard's sailing buddy suggested they take a look at it. Not during the summer when it was far too hot to be out on the roof in the middle of the day. I wasn't too keen on the idea - it's a long way to the ground, but they thought it would be safe enough. And today, with pleasant temperatures but no threat of rain, they decided to come and take a look. Two sailing friends came. They promised that if there was any danger at all, they'd go and fetch some ropes from King Malu. However, Richard was pretty certain that the worst of the problem was right over the balcony attached to Daniel's room, and pointed out that the angle of the roof is very slight.
So they crawled into the space above the bathroom, where Richard had seen some light. They crawled onto the roof, and discovered the hole, as well as some cracked concrete, and a couple of cracked tiles. And large amounts of pigeon dung, much of which had spilled over onto Daniel's balcony in the last few months.
They had some coffee and cake, then went away, and returned armed with various bits and pieces. Something to mend the hole, some special sealing paint and canvas to seal the cracks, another kind of mixture to mend the cracked tiles (since replacing them would have been a huge amount of effort, and would have required a specialist roofing person).
I suppose it took about an hour. Everything should have dried by now, and tomorrow Richard will put on another coat of the sealing solution. He'd like to find some way of scaring the pigeons away too, since it seems that part of the problem was that the rain was splashing down onto the piles of dung on the roof, and towards a cracked tile, then leaking through. That probably accounted for the nasty smell, too.
We won't know if all the problems are fixed until we have some heavy rain, and there's none predicted at the moment. But I'm very thankful to know that several holes and cracks are now sealed and watertight.
Richard and his friends have now gone out for a short sail.
Friday, November 12, 2010
A Little Lidl...
So, Lidl opened just outside Larnaka, a couple of weeks ago. I'm told there are two new stores: one in Aradippou, the other somewhere along the Dhekelia Road.
Since receiving the gift pack, we've seen several glossy advertising brochures for Lidl in our mailbox. I glanced through them, but couldn't see anything particularly appealing. I was glad that we now have paper recycling in Cyprus, since there have been a vast number of advertising brochures recently.
A few of our friends have already visited Lidl. I gather that there was chaos on the first couple of days, when there were special 'opening offers', but - of course - nowhere near sufficient to meet the demand. I heard that some of the products are very good value, even when not on special offer. But for just two of us, it somehow didn't seem worth bothering with the extra distance.
This morning, we had two shops to visit before Richard went to the office. We both really need new trainers [US: sneakers], and we also had a few items to buy at Metro. In particular, a kind of cat litter we haven't found anywhere else, and Richard's favourite ground coffee, which isn't available at the local supermarkets. It's three weeks since we did a 'major' grocery shop at Metro, which is usually once a month, and I only had about half a dozen things on my list... but it seemed a good idea to go today, anyway, and then perhaps wait another three or four weeks before doing a major shopping expedition prior to Christmas.
On the way out of the house, I saw yet more advertising brochures in our mailbox. I grabbed them to glance at in the car. They were both from Lidl, who must have spent a fortune on advertising. One of them was for food items, but the other made it look rather more interesting:
I had not realised they had such a big non-food section, but this brochure ran to several pages:
I commented that we'd probably do well to stay away from Lidl, since it looked as if it might be the kind of place where we'd spot all kinds of 'bargains' that we hadn't realised we needed.. then I noticed that they had men's trainers on offer. When I mentioned that, Richard suggested we take a look...
It was a little further away than I'd expected - past Kleima by quite a way, but it was easy enough to find:
I had brought with me the blue keyring that came in our free bag, since, as several people kindly pointed out to me, there is a removable plastic circle which can be used in lieu of a euro to get a trolley. I was eager to try it out, but Richard suggested we have a look first, since we might not be buying anything.
Inside, it looked much like the two British Lidl stores I've seen. The non-food part was, disappointingly, just a series of boxes down the middle. The quality didn't look as great as the advertising suggested, and the shoes looked much too narrow for Richard. I couldn't find most of the products from the brochure at all. Perhaps they'd already been bought.
Flour (plain white all-purpose) and sugar (white) were at very good prices - 49c, which is around half the regular price. Had we needed any, I would have bought some. I did see one man with an entire trolley full of flour - perhaps he was going to sell it somewhere else. Or make a lot of cakes. But I had plenty of flour and sugar at home, and we don't get through that much with just two of us, so we didn't buy any.
I did see chicken breast at about a euro per kilogram cheaper than we usually get it. I was tempted... but if we'd bought that, we would have had to go home to put it in the freezer before going out to do our other shopping, so I didn't. They didn't have the coffee we wanted - indeed, it was hard to find any coffee - nor the cat litter.
I'm glad we had a look around, to appease our curiosity, but we were both underwhelmed, and didn't - in the end - buy anything at Lidl.
So then we drove to the ShoeBox (previously Shoe Emporium) where we've bought good value trainers in the past. No such luck this time. Cypriots (other than children) don't seem to wear trainers much and there's nothing like the selection we can find in the UK. We'll have to look in town, I suppose.
Then on to Metro. Four bags of cat litter, two of coffee. A couple of large bags of cat food. We found a few items on two-for-one special offer - things which keep, and which we would buy - so put those in the trolley too. And I was particularly pleased to find chicken breast on extra-special offer, a euro LESS than the price at Lidl, so bought several packs of that for the freezer.
Despite it not being a 'major' shop, we spent just over a hundred euros at Metro. Living in Cyprus is a great deal more expensive than it used to be, which I suppose is why so many people are excited about Lidl opening. If we lived nearer, I would probably go there for sugar and flour when I needed them, but it isn't worth the extra petrol.
Three large shops in one day. Sigh. That's more than I like to see in a month.
Since receiving the gift pack, we've seen several glossy advertising brochures for Lidl in our mailbox. I glanced through them, but couldn't see anything particularly appealing. I was glad that we now have paper recycling in Cyprus, since there have been a vast number of advertising brochures recently.
A few of our friends have already visited Lidl. I gather that there was chaos on the first couple of days, when there were special 'opening offers', but - of course - nowhere near sufficient to meet the demand. I heard that some of the products are very good value, even when not on special offer. But for just two of us, it somehow didn't seem worth bothering with the extra distance.
This morning, we had two shops to visit before Richard went to the office. We both really need new trainers [US: sneakers], and we also had a few items to buy at Metro. In particular, a kind of cat litter we haven't found anywhere else, and Richard's favourite ground coffee, which isn't available at the local supermarkets. It's three weeks since we did a 'major' grocery shop at Metro, which is usually once a month, and I only had about half a dozen things on my list... but it seemed a good idea to go today, anyway, and then perhaps wait another three or four weeks before doing a major shopping expedition prior to Christmas.
On the way out of the house, I saw yet more advertising brochures in our mailbox. I grabbed them to glance at in the car. They were both from Lidl, who must have spent a fortune on advertising. One of them was for food items, but the other made it look rather more interesting:
I had not realised they had such a big non-food section, but this brochure ran to several pages:
I commented that we'd probably do well to stay away from Lidl, since it looked as if it might be the kind of place where we'd spot all kinds of 'bargains' that we hadn't realised we needed.. then I noticed that they had men's trainers on offer. When I mentioned that, Richard suggested we take a look...
It was a little further away than I'd expected - past Kleima by quite a way, but it was easy enough to find:
I had brought with me the blue keyring that came in our free bag, since, as several people kindly pointed out to me, there is a removable plastic circle which can be used in lieu of a euro to get a trolley. I was eager to try it out, but Richard suggested we have a look first, since we might not be buying anything.
Inside, it looked much like the two British Lidl stores I've seen. The non-food part was, disappointingly, just a series of boxes down the middle. The quality didn't look as great as the advertising suggested, and the shoes looked much too narrow for Richard. I couldn't find most of the products from the brochure at all. Perhaps they'd already been bought.
Flour (plain white all-purpose) and sugar (white) were at very good prices - 49c, which is around half the regular price. Had we needed any, I would have bought some. I did see one man with an entire trolley full of flour - perhaps he was going to sell it somewhere else. Or make a lot of cakes. But I had plenty of flour and sugar at home, and we don't get through that much with just two of us, so we didn't buy any.
I did see chicken breast at about a euro per kilogram cheaper than we usually get it. I was tempted... but if we'd bought that, we would have had to go home to put it in the freezer before going out to do our other shopping, so I didn't. They didn't have the coffee we wanted - indeed, it was hard to find any coffee - nor the cat litter.
I'm glad we had a look around, to appease our curiosity, but we were both underwhelmed, and didn't - in the end - buy anything at Lidl.
So then we drove to the ShoeBox (previously Shoe Emporium) where we've bought good value trainers in the past. No such luck this time. Cypriots (other than children) don't seem to wear trainers much and there's nothing like the selection we can find in the UK. We'll have to look in town, I suppose.
Then on to Metro. Four bags of cat litter, two of coffee. A couple of large bags of cat food. We found a few items on two-for-one special offer - things which keep, and which we would buy - so put those in the trolley too. And I was particularly pleased to find chicken breast on extra-special offer, a euro LESS than the price at Lidl, so bought several packs of that for the freezer.
Despite it not being a 'major' shop, we spent just over a hundred euros at Metro. Living in Cyprus is a great deal more expensive than it used to be, which I suppose is why so many people are excited about Lidl opening. If we lived nearer, I would probably go there for sugar and flour when I needed them, but it isn't worth the extra petrol.
Three large shops in one day. Sigh. That's more than I like to see in a month.
Thursday, November 11, 2010
Feeling foolish in the Froutaria....
I pop to Achna Froutaria (a bit like an English greengrocer) two or three times each week. It's about five minutes' walk away, and we use quite a lot of fresh fruit and vegetables. They also have the best value almonds, and - I discovered recently - some good free range eggs, much better priced than the local supermarket.
Today, I wanted to get a few potatoes and onions (as we had run out of both), some more oranges for juicing, a couple of Granny Smith apples (for eating), some mushrooms (since I had none left in the freezer, and like to keep some handy), and some bananas, which I often eat for breakfast, and Richard sometimes has for a late-night snack. Or to turn into a banana cake of some kind, if they get squashy.
I always look at the 'pink bag' section first, where there are special offers. I was very pleased to see some cherry tomatoes there, at about a third of their usual price. They looked just fine: the only reason they seemed to be discounted was that they had fallen off their little pieces of vine. So I chose a large handful.
I was also happy to see a pineapple on special offer. Even at full price, pineapples seem pretty good value to me, and we both like them very much. But on special - I did give them a quick sniff, and felt the ends - they're even better. I put the pineapple in a pink bag, even though I don't like the way we get through quite so many little plastic bags at the fruit shop; but it's the only way, sometimes, that the cashiers know which price to charge. I saw mushrooms and oranges in the pink bag area too, looking in good condition, so I got them as well.
I found my apples, potatoes and onions, in the regular (green bag) section, and decided to get three more garlic bulbs as well - we get through a couple of bulbs each week, and were down to the last one. The cabbages looked good, so I picked one of them up too. I glanced at the produce in the one-euro plain bag aisle of extra-special offers, but there was nothing particularly appealing there.
So, all that remained was to find some bananas. They're usually at the far end of the shop, near one of the cashiers, but as I was making my way there I saw some near the pink-bag section, evidently on special offer too. So I put my basket down for a moment and went to collect another pink bag, choosing a smallish bunch of bananas in good condition.
I looked at the queues... and chose the one that looked shortest. My mind, as ever, was miles away....
Before long, I was first in the line, just waiting until the previous customer had paid and packed her produce. I put my bananas on the checkout desk, as they were at the top of the basket... then looked in some surprise at the pineapple. I was convinced I had put it in a pink bag... but there it sat, bagless. I looked under it, wondering if I could have put the bag on so badly that it fell off.. but there was no sign.
Even more worryingly, rather than the three onions I'd chosen, there was a plain one-euro bag of pickling onions in my basket. Not something I would ever think of buying. Had someone, by mistake, put something in my basket, thinking it was theirs....?
I looked at the rest of the produce. Cherry tomatoes in a pink bag - check. Potatoes... yes, but not the ones I had chosen. Apples... yes, but red ones, not Granny Smiths... and where was my cabbage? My mushrooms....?
Then, it came to me. In a flash of brilliant insight.
It wasn't that someone else had added things to my basket. On the contrary... I must have picked up someone else's.
Oops.
I so hate being the centre of attention, in any way, that for a split second I considered going through the checkout, taking it all home, and then making another trip later for the things I needed. Although I had NO idea what I would do with a couple of kilograms of pickling onions.
Then I thought of the person whose basket I was carrying, and how they might, even now, be searching the shop for it, and my heart went out to them.
So, with a muttered, 'This is not my basket!', avoiding the startled glances of the people behind me in the queue, I rushed back into the shop.
It didn't take long to discover my basket, with its pineapple firmly ensconced in a pink bag, and the Granny Smith apples. Indeed, everything I had chosen, other than the bananas. So I transferred the bananas to my re-discovered basket. picked it up, and left the other one in its place.
I hope it was re-united with its owner eventually, though I shall probably never know.
Then I casually joined a different queue, paid for my purchases (a total of eight euros and ten cents, for those who like to know such details), and brought them home.
Today, I wanted to get a few potatoes and onions (as we had run out of both), some more oranges for juicing, a couple of Granny Smith apples (for eating), some mushrooms (since I had none left in the freezer, and like to keep some handy), and some bananas, which I often eat for breakfast, and Richard sometimes has for a late-night snack. Or to turn into a banana cake of some kind, if they get squashy.
I always look at the 'pink bag' section first, where there are special offers. I was very pleased to see some cherry tomatoes there, at about a third of their usual price. They looked just fine: the only reason they seemed to be discounted was that they had fallen off their little pieces of vine. So I chose a large handful.
I was also happy to see a pineapple on special offer. Even at full price, pineapples seem pretty good value to me, and we both like them very much. But on special - I did give them a quick sniff, and felt the ends - they're even better. I put the pineapple in a pink bag, even though I don't like the way we get through quite so many little plastic bags at the fruit shop; but it's the only way, sometimes, that the cashiers know which price to charge. I saw mushrooms and oranges in the pink bag area too, looking in good condition, so I got them as well.
I found my apples, potatoes and onions, in the regular (green bag) section, and decided to get three more garlic bulbs as well - we get through a couple of bulbs each week, and were down to the last one. The cabbages looked good, so I picked one of them up too. I glanced at the produce in the one-euro plain bag aisle of extra-special offers, but there was nothing particularly appealing there.
So, all that remained was to find some bananas. They're usually at the far end of the shop, near one of the cashiers, but as I was making my way there I saw some near the pink-bag section, evidently on special offer too. So I put my basket down for a moment and went to collect another pink bag, choosing a smallish bunch of bananas in good condition.
I looked at the queues... and chose the one that looked shortest. My mind, as ever, was miles away....
Before long, I was first in the line, just waiting until the previous customer had paid and packed her produce. I put my bananas on the checkout desk, as they were at the top of the basket... then looked in some surprise at the pineapple. I was convinced I had put it in a pink bag... but there it sat, bagless. I looked under it, wondering if I could have put the bag on so badly that it fell off.. but there was no sign.
Even more worryingly, rather than the three onions I'd chosen, there was a plain one-euro bag of pickling onions in my basket. Not something I would ever think of buying. Had someone, by mistake, put something in my basket, thinking it was theirs....?
I looked at the rest of the produce. Cherry tomatoes in a pink bag - check. Potatoes... yes, but not the ones I had chosen. Apples... yes, but red ones, not Granny Smiths... and where was my cabbage? My mushrooms....?
Then, it came to me. In a flash of brilliant insight.
It wasn't that someone else had added things to my basket. On the contrary... I must have picked up someone else's.
Oops.
I so hate being the centre of attention, in any way, that for a split second I considered going through the checkout, taking it all home, and then making another trip later for the things I needed. Although I had NO idea what I would do with a couple of kilograms of pickling onions.
Then I thought of the person whose basket I was carrying, and how they might, even now, be searching the shop for it, and my heart went out to them.
So, with a muttered, 'This is not my basket!', avoiding the startled glances of the people behind me in the queue, I rushed back into the shop.
It didn't take long to discover my basket, with its pineapple firmly ensconced in a pink bag, and the Granny Smith apples. Indeed, everything I had chosen, other than the bananas. So I transferred the bananas to my re-discovered basket. picked it up, and left the other one in its place.
I hope it was re-united with its owner eventually, though I shall probably never know.
Then I casually joined a different queue, paid for my purchases (a total of eight euros and ten cents, for those who like to know such details), and brought them home.
Wednesday, November 10, 2010
Greek language in Cyprus
We've lived in Cyprus for thirteen years now. That's more than a quarter of my life. At eighteen, Tim had spent half of his life here.
The primary language in the main (southern) part of Cyprus is Greek, so we had assumed that we would need to learn the language when we moved here. I thought I had a head start, since I studied Ancient Greek to A-level when I was at high school. That meant that I could, at least, read the letters and had an idea of pronunciation and grammar. Pronunciation had to be adjusted radically, and grammar in modern Greek is rather simpler than it was a couple of thousand years ago. But still, I had some slight confidence that it wouldn't be too hard...
Armed with a Greek-English dictionary, we set to work to 'decode' (as the boys put it) labels on food, circulars that arrived in our mailbox, and other random Greek. We found a couple of beginner Greek books, and worked our way through the earliest exercises. We borrowed a Greek Linguaphone course, and started out with some enthusiasm. Unfortunately it was very dated, and we got bogged down in some of the conversations that were really not relevant to boys of 11 and 9... or, indeed, to me.
Then we discovered the Learn Greek course, produced originally for Cyprus radio. It's also rather dated, but was made in Cyprus, narrated by a friendly person who explains everything, and rather easier to work through than the Linguaphone. So we started at the beginning, and it seemed fairly straightforward at first... as we covered the same ground, learning about pencils and tables and baskets...
But over our first year or so in Cyprus, we gradually realised that we didn't actually have to speak Greek at all. Our neighbours were pleased to find British people living nearby, so that they could practise their English. People in shops all spoke English, too - some of them biligually, some of them still fluently, others with just a smattering... but a great deal more confidence than we had in our Greek.
Daniel took Greek classes for a year or so with a friend, and picked up a fair amount from playing in the town band, and also having friends in the inter-church youth group, and Antidote Theatre. Tim also amassed some Greek - sufficient to make himself understood, when he needed to. But it wasn't very often.
And so the years have gone by. Every so often I make a concerted effort to progress further through the 'Learn Greek' course. I wrote a post about attempting to learn Greek in March last year... I was very pleased since I had reached lesson 30, last in the 'elementary' section of the site.
Now, over eighteen months later, I'm on about lesson 33. I seem to manage a few days when I listen to a lesson, and study the attached transcript, and it begins to fall into place in my mind. Then something distracts me, or I have a few busy days... and suddenly I realise that months have gone by without me listening to another lesson. So I back-track a little, and reach the level I'd got to before... and so it goes on.
Part of me feels that I should be fluent in Greek now. Occasionally someone makes a comment to that effect, and I feel a little abashed. But most Cypriots have such remarkably good English that it's difficult to have any opportunity to speak Greek.
However, this morning I found myself wishing I'd worked a little harder at the language. The phone rang, and someone spoke to me rapidly in Greek. I assumed it was a wrong number, and said so in English, slowly. The person kept speaking, rapidly. I said, 'Sorry' and rang off. Five minutes later, the same person phoned. Part of my problem is that I find it remarkably difficult to think on the spur of the moment. I could not even remember how to say, 'I don't speak Greek' in Greek. I had forgotten - tempoorarily - the word for 'English' in Greek. Everything I had learned - all those thirty or more lessons - completely vanished from my mind, when someone was finally speaking Greek to me.
Eventually he asked me my name. I told him my first name... and he put the phone down. I assume it was a wrong number. If it was some official or perhaps the post office trying to get hold of us, they would surely have found someone who spoke English, at least for the second attempt.
The primary language in the main (southern) part of Cyprus is Greek, so we had assumed that we would need to learn the language when we moved here. I thought I had a head start, since I studied Ancient Greek to A-level when I was at high school. That meant that I could, at least, read the letters and had an idea of pronunciation and grammar. Pronunciation had to be adjusted radically, and grammar in modern Greek is rather simpler than it was a couple of thousand years ago. But still, I had some slight confidence that it wouldn't be too hard...
Armed with a Greek-English dictionary, we set to work to 'decode' (as the boys put it) labels on food, circulars that arrived in our mailbox, and other random Greek. We found a couple of beginner Greek books, and worked our way through the earliest exercises. We borrowed a Greek Linguaphone course, and started out with some enthusiasm. Unfortunately it was very dated, and we got bogged down in some of the conversations that were really not relevant to boys of 11 and 9... or, indeed, to me.
Then we discovered the Learn Greek course, produced originally for Cyprus radio. It's also rather dated, but was made in Cyprus, narrated by a friendly person who explains everything, and rather easier to work through than the Linguaphone. So we started at the beginning, and it seemed fairly straightforward at first... as we covered the same ground, learning about pencils and tables and baskets...
But over our first year or so in Cyprus, we gradually realised that we didn't actually have to speak Greek at all. Our neighbours were pleased to find British people living nearby, so that they could practise their English. People in shops all spoke English, too - some of them biligually, some of them still fluently, others with just a smattering... but a great deal more confidence than we had in our Greek.
Daniel took Greek classes for a year or so with a friend, and picked up a fair amount from playing in the town band, and also having friends in the inter-church youth group, and Antidote Theatre. Tim also amassed some Greek - sufficient to make himself understood, when he needed to. But it wasn't very often.
And so the years have gone by. Every so often I make a concerted effort to progress further through the 'Learn Greek' course. I wrote a post about attempting to learn Greek in March last year... I was very pleased since I had reached lesson 30, last in the 'elementary' section of the site.
Now, over eighteen months later, I'm on about lesson 33. I seem to manage a few days when I listen to a lesson, and study the attached transcript, and it begins to fall into place in my mind. Then something distracts me, or I have a few busy days... and suddenly I realise that months have gone by without me listening to another lesson. So I back-track a little, and reach the level I'd got to before... and so it goes on.
Part of me feels that I should be fluent in Greek now. Occasionally someone makes a comment to that effect, and I feel a little abashed. But most Cypriots have such remarkably good English that it's difficult to have any opportunity to speak Greek.
However, this morning I found myself wishing I'd worked a little harder at the language. The phone rang, and someone spoke to me rapidly in Greek. I assumed it was a wrong number, and said so in English, slowly. The person kept speaking, rapidly. I said, 'Sorry' and rang off. Five minutes later, the same person phoned. Part of my problem is that I find it remarkably difficult to think on the spur of the moment. I could not even remember how to say, 'I don't speak Greek' in Greek. I had forgotten - tempoorarily - the word for 'English' in Greek. Everything I had learned - all those thirty or more lessons - completely vanished from my mind, when someone was finally speaking Greek to me.
Eventually he asked me my name. I told him my first name... and he put the phone down. I assume it was a wrong number. If it was some official or perhaps the post office trying to get hold of us, they would surely have found someone who spoke English, at least for the second attempt.
Tuesday, November 09, 2010
Christmas cake, after much procrastination....
I don't like to think about Christmas until at least the beginning of November. But my first sighting of a Christmas tree, a week before the end of October, reminded me that it's a good idea to buy suitable ingredients for traditional British Christmas food in good time. We only do a big supermarket shop about once a month now, so when we went towards the end of October, I bought some extra raisins, some currants, some glacé cherries, and even some veggie suet (since a quick glance at the ingredients reassured me that they've stopped using hydrogenated vegetable fat).
I put it all away in my cupboards, intending to make my Christmas cake within the first few days of November. As I always intend to. Last year, I did manage to bake the cake on November 7th, which I think is the earliest ever. One slight problem (or excuse?) with my favourite 'Delia' recipe is that the dried fruit and peel has to be soaked in brandy overnight before making the cake. So it was no good waking up on Saturday morning feeling inspired to make the cake (which did happen...) since I'd entirely forgotten about soaking the fruit the night before. And I didn't want to do it then, as I knew that Sunday would be rather busy.
I was fairly occupied on Monday, too, with the monthly meeting of the Larnaka Christian Writers' Group in the morning, and friends to dinner in the evening. But after the friends had gone, and the kitchen was tidy, I remembered. So I weighed the fruit and sprinkled some Cyprus brandy over it. This morning, up reasonably early, I made the cake. I remembered to use the oven in its non-fan setting. I decided to be really radical and forget about the instructions to wrap the tin in brown paper and string (partly because I couldn't find any string... and partly because I'm never sure what difference it can possibly make).
A wonderful smell emanated from the kitchen all morning, while I was chatting with adult friends, playing with smaller friends, reading stories, colouring... and after four hours I turned the oven off, leaving the cake inside for a further hour.
I'm going to leave the side grease-free paper around it when I wrap it in foil for the next few weeks... but here, anyway, is my now traditional annual Christmas cake photo:
I put it all away in my cupboards, intending to make my Christmas cake within the first few days of November. As I always intend to. Last year, I did manage to bake the cake on November 7th, which I think is the earliest ever. One slight problem (or excuse?) with my favourite 'Delia' recipe is that the dried fruit and peel has to be soaked in brandy overnight before making the cake. So it was no good waking up on Saturday morning feeling inspired to make the cake (which did happen...) since I'd entirely forgotten about soaking the fruit the night before. And I didn't want to do it then, as I knew that Sunday would be rather busy.
I was fairly occupied on Monday, too, with the monthly meeting of the Larnaka Christian Writers' Group in the morning, and friends to dinner in the evening. But after the friends had gone, and the kitchen was tidy, I remembered. So I weighed the fruit and sprinkled some Cyprus brandy over it. This morning, up reasonably early, I made the cake. I remembered to use the oven in its non-fan setting. I decided to be really radical and forget about the instructions to wrap the tin in brown paper and string (partly because I couldn't find any string... and partly because I'm never sure what difference it can possibly make).
A wonderful smell emanated from the kitchen all morning, while I was chatting with adult friends, playing with smaller friends, reading stories, colouring... and after four hours I turned the oven off, leaving the cake inside for a further hour.
I'm going to leave the side grease-free paper around it when I wrap it in foil for the next few weeks... but here, anyway, is my now traditional annual Christmas cake photo:
Monday, November 08, 2010
Baking in November
During the Summer in Cyprus, I do minimal baking. If I do need to make a dessert for some reason, either I cut up some fresh fruit and make a fruit salad, or I throw together a basic bar cake in a roasting pan.
But now the weather's a little cooler, I like pottering in the kitchen a bit more, and I also like trying out new recipes. Yesterday might have been a lazy day for the cats, but it wasn't for me. We were expecting our good friends - a family of eight - and two other friends who are staying with them, for the evening. We get together every couple of weeks for a cold meal; they bring cut up salad veggies and cheese, while I make some bread, and some kind of dessert.
Making bread is easy with my breadmaker. I now have a recipe that's pretty much foolproof, so long as I remember to adjust the temperature depending on the season. Here are the first two loaves I made:
Sometimes two is sufficient for this group, but I thought I'd make a third anyway. Just as well I did, since they brought two other teenage girls with them, making us a party of thirteen at the table (the youngest member of the family is not quite five months old, so doesn't have a seat to herself).
I was thinking about making some kind of apple cake, since I had about four small, soft apples in the fruit bowl. Since my non-citrus juice extractor is broken, and the one on the food processor isn't great, I've only been making orange juice recently.
So when, browsing Google Reader to see what my favourite bloggers had been posting lately, I saw a recipe called Marie-Helene apple cake, I knew I had to make it... particularly since two of the people in the family who were coming are called Marie and Helen.
It came out pretty well, although I think I used rather too much apple:
I wanted to make something else as well, since I realised that it wasn't very big. Browsing more cake recipes on the same blog,
I came across a chocolate banana cake. It looked extremely good. At the last minute I decided not to use my largest loaf pan (which was not quite as big as the one in the instructions) since there appeared to be a vast amount of mixture. Instead, I used my seven-inch square cake pan, which turned out to be exactly the right size:
Slightly to my surprise, the apple cake proved to be the more popular. Everyone thought it extremely good. The chocolate cake was very chocolatey, with only the faintest hint of banana, but rather dryer than I'd expected. I'm not sure why.
Since I also cooked lunch for Richard and myself, and had a fair amount of cleaning up to do after all the baking, and then our friends arrived around 5.00pm, it was far from a lazy day from my perspective.
But now the weather's a little cooler, I like pottering in the kitchen a bit more, and I also like trying out new recipes. Yesterday might have been a lazy day for the cats, but it wasn't for me. We were expecting our good friends - a family of eight - and two other friends who are staying with them, for the evening. We get together every couple of weeks for a cold meal; they bring cut up salad veggies and cheese, while I make some bread, and some kind of dessert.
Making bread is easy with my breadmaker. I now have a recipe that's pretty much foolproof, so long as I remember to adjust the temperature depending on the season. Here are the first two loaves I made:
Sometimes two is sufficient for this group, but I thought I'd make a third anyway. Just as well I did, since they brought two other teenage girls with them, making us a party of thirteen at the table (the youngest member of the family is not quite five months old, so doesn't have a seat to herself).
I was thinking about making some kind of apple cake, since I had about four small, soft apples in the fruit bowl. Since my non-citrus juice extractor is broken, and the one on the food processor isn't great, I've only been making orange juice recently.
So when, browsing Google Reader to see what my favourite bloggers had been posting lately, I saw a recipe called Marie-Helene apple cake, I knew I had to make it... particularly since two of the people in the family who were coming are called Marie and Helen.
It came out pretty well, although I think I used rather too much apple:
I wanted to make something else as well, since I realised that it wasn't very big. Browsing more cake recipes on the same blog,
I came across a chocolate banana cake. It looked extremely good. At the last minute I decided not to use my largest loaf pan (which was not quite as big as the one in the instructions) since there appeared to be a vast amount of mixture. Instead, I used my seven-inch square cake pan, which turned out to be exactly the right size:
Slightly to my surprise, the apple cake proved to be the more popular. Everyone thought it extremely good. The chocolate cake was very chocolatey, with only the faintest hint of banana, but rather dryer than I'd expected. I'm not sure why.
Since I also cooked lunch for Richard and myself, and had a fair amount of cleaning up to do after all the baking, and then our friends arrived around 5.00pm, it was far from a lazy day from my perspective.
Sunday, November 07, 2010
Lazy Sunday...
.. at least, as far as the cats are concerned.
Sophia is sitting on her favourite turtle. She avoided it for most of the Summer, but now the temperatures are cooler, she likes a fluffy place to sit on. Probably still a little warm from the sunshine coming in the window earlier:
She half opened her eyes when I took the photo, and then went straight back to sleep.
Tessie is also in the study, perched on the back of the sofa. She and Sophia really don't get along, but it's surprising how often I find them sleeping in the same location.
She had a quick wash after I'd taken the photo - the cats tolerate the camera, but aren't particuarly keen on it - and then also went back to sleep.
As for Cleo, I was pretty sure where I'd find her. Not as consistently sociable as the other two, she was exactly where I thought she would be. Curled up in the middle of our bed:
She also opened her eyes when I appeared, and scowled at me suspiciously. Perhaps she thought I was going to disturb her rest by changing the sheets, or getting into bed myself. As I left the room, she relaxed and also went back to sleep.
Sophia is sitting on her favourite turtle. She avoided it for most of the Summer, but now the temperatures are cooler, she likes a fluffy place to sit on. Probably still a little warm from the sunshine coming in the window earlier:
She half opened her eyes when I took the photo, and then went straight back to sleep.
Tessie is also in the study, perched on the back of the sofa. She and Sophia really don't get along, but it's surprising how often I find them sleeping in the same location.
She had a quick wash after I'd taken the photo - the cats tolerate the camera, but aren't particuarly keen on it - and then also went back to sleep.
As for Cleo, I was pretty sure where I'd find her. Not as consistently sociable as the other two, she was exactly where I thought she would be. Curled up in the middle of our bed:
She also opened her eyes when I appeared, and scowled at me suspiciously. Perhaps she thought I was going to disturb her rest by changing the sheets, or getting into bed myself. As I left the room, she relaxed and also went back to sleep.
Saturday, November 06, 2010
Time rushes by..
... or perhaps, as someone once said, time actually stays where it is, and we rush along through it. I once heard a wise person say that, as one gets older, the passage of time gets increasingly rapid. This certainly seems to be the case, already - and I'm only fifty. Wasn't it just September? What happened to October? How can it be the end of the first week of November, already? Have Pratchett's history monks been playing even more tricks than usual?
I know of people who are 'pretty much ready for Christmas' by the start of November. I don't know if that's a sign of extreme organisation, or of wanting time to rush by even faster, or just general efficiency, not wanting a last-minute panic. Personally, I refuse to do anything related to Christmas until at least November. I thought I might make this year's Christmas cake some time this week, but the week appears to have vanished into the ether, and I keep forgetting to soak the fruit.
Delia might tell us to forget her celebration cake and spend lots of money on boxed mixes [thankyou to Rosemary for alerting me to this terrible heresy...] but I am not yet too old or frail to make Christmas cake. It's not as if it's very difficult, after all. One just puts the ingredients in a large bowl, stirs well, and then cooks slowly. If ever I reach the stage of being unable to do that, I shall probably buy a ready-made Christmas cake. I have never seen the point of boxed mixes, which are usually stuffed with unpronouncable and decidedly unpalatable ingredients.
The weather is feeling a little chillier, although Richard was out sailing today and said it was glorious on the sea. But now, at 4.45pm the sun is going down and I've just put my thin jacket on. Half an hour ago I went around the house and closed all the windows which I'd opened this morning. I popped out to the fruit shop just after lunch, and felt quite warm by the time I was home, but the evenings and nights are a lot colder than they were.
Cyprus is a strange place. People come and go; nothing seems to be permanent. Some good friends are just going away for five weeks, leaving soon; other good friends have just returned after a lengthy period away. People we know have decided to leave Cyprus for good; others, as they retire, often decide to spend the winter here, the summer in the UK. Life is transient anyway, but in Cyprus it's even more so.
I know of people who are 'pretty much ready for Christmas' by the start of November. I don't know if that's a sign of extreme organisation, or of wanting time to rush by even faster, or just general efficiency, not wanting a last-minute panic. Personally, I refuse to do anything related to Christmas until at least November. I thought I might make this year's Christmas cake some time this week, but the week appears to have vanished into the ether, and I keep forgetting to soak the fruit.
Delia might tell us to forget her celebration cake and spend lots of money on boxed mixes [thankyou to Rosemary for alerting me to this terrible heresy...] but I am not yet too old or frail to make Christmas cake. It's not as if it's very difficult, after all. One just puts the ingredients in a large bowl, stirs well, and then cooks slowly. If ever I reach the stage of being unable to do that, I shall probably buy a ready-made Christmas cake. I have never seen the point of boxed mixes, which are usually stuffed with unpronouncable and decidedly unpalatable ingredients.
The weather is feeling a little chillier, although Richard was out sailing today and said it was glorious on the sea. But now, at 4.45pm the sun is going down and I've just put my thin jacket on. Half an hour ago I went around the house and closed all the windows which I'd opened this morning. I popped out to the fruit shop just after lunch, and felt quite warm by the time I was home, but the evenings and nights are a lot colder than they were.
Cyprus is a strange place. People come and go; nothing seems to be permanent. Some good friends are just going away for five weeks, leaving soon; other good friends have just returned after a lengthy period away. People we know have decided to leave Cyprus for good; others, as they retire, often decide to spend the winter here, the summer in the UK. Life is transient anyway, but in Cyprus it's even more so.
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