November in Cyprus: kitten update, first rains

Kittens

In my last post, I wrote about two kittens that we were fostering. We had almost given up hope of finding a permanent home for them. We knew we had to keep them for another few weeks before they could go to the cat sanctuary, and I was beginning to wonder if we would succeed in doing so. The boiler room was fine when they were just three weeks old. But they were getting bigger and stronger, needing to climb and run around. It wouldn't be long before they were able to escape.

Half an hour supervised in our side yard each afternoon gave them some exercise, but I knew it wasn't really enough. Richard was working at a conference so I was on my own with them, and I was concerned that they would suddenly make a dash for the road. Even at two months old, they were still very small and would not know to get out of the way of a car.

I took this video eleven days ago:

I'm so glad I did. An hour or so later I had a message from Richard, sent in one of his breaks. He had mentioned the kittens a few weeks earlier on one of the Facebook groups for kittens in Cyprus, and had just received the first enquiry. He said that a man and his wife wanted to come and see them that evening. He didn't think they would take them that evening, and he wasn't sure if they wanted more than one. But we didn't think they should be separated. The boy kitten became quite distraught if he didn't know where his sister was, even for a minute or two.

In the evening, the enquirer arrived with his wife and their two children. They weren't young children, and they were very good with the kittens. They were all smitten almost immediately, and agreed that they would have both of them. Then they asked if they could take them immediately. They thought it would help the kittens to settle in if they could have them on a Friday evening, so they had the whole weekend together. 

I know one is supposed to take foster kittens to a potential new home, to check that everything is okay. But I had a good feeling about the family. They already had an older cat and a dog, and clearly knew how to handle kittens. I couldn't get hold of Richard to see what he thought. So I agreed. I lent them the cat carrier that we share with friends, and gave them the remaining kitten food. 

I felt quite poignant as I said goodbye, but the family suggested we go and visit them when Richard was available, to see how they were doing, and to collect the carrier. And over the next couple of days they sent us photos like this one, and let us know how the kittens were doing, so we were quite reassured: 

There was a lot of rain that weekend, as well as lightning and thunder. I think it would have been quite scary for two small kittens alone in the boiler room. And it would have been difficult to give them any outside playtime. So the timing was perfect. 

A week later we went to see the kittens in their new home, and saw that they were very contented and well-settled. They were happy to play with us, but clearly at home in their new environment. The dog likes them, and they seem to like the dog. The older cat is keeping out of the way. 

I have no regrets.  Lady Jane, our one remaining cat, who is now ten-and-a-half, is no longer sniffing at me suspiciously and turning her back. She knew we were not being faithful to her, even though she's a fully indoor cat so she never saw the kittens. 

Rain and the Salt Lake

The Salt Lake had dried out over the summer and had very little water in it after the first brief rain showers earlier in the month.  But the rain ten days ago made much more of an impression: 

News reports (and some friends) mentioned that the flamingoes had returned, but I didn't see any myself until this morning's walk, after more heavy rain over the past weekend:

The weather is cooler, too. Down to 13-14 degrees early morning, no more than about 20 in the daytime. I very much like wearing socks and a warm layer even in the daytime, sometimes needing an extra layer in the evening (or when walking first thing). And since we no longer have kittens living in our boiler room, we can have our heating serviced... not that we're in any need of central heating yet. Unlike in the UK where my Facebook feed today was full of pictures of snow that had fallen last night.  

Life in general 

I've made this year's mincemeat, in preparation for mince pies once December has started. I still have a Christmas pudding left from the three I made last year, and it doesn't seem to have dried up, so I won't make a new one. I'm still uploading more images and links on my book blog, and I'm trying to get back into Photobox although I really don't like the new design interface. It seems a whole lot more complicated than it used to be, and I'm a long way behind on our 2024 photobook. 

Where is Autumn....?

We have lived here long enough (26 years) that I no longer expect summer to be over by the start of September. In our first few years, I would feel a stab of disappointment on the first day of the month when it was still hot and humid. I suppose it was a bit like a child waking up on their birthday, devastated to discover that nothing had really changed overnight. 

But I was, briefly, quite hopeful at the end of August this year. We had a downpour of rain towards the end of that month. It was unexpected, and welcome... however, it didn't make the temperatures decrease. Cyprus, like most of Europe, has had the hottest summer on record. September wasn't much better. 

Still, by the middle of September, the humidity did reduce somewhat. And the night-time temperatures dropped to around 19-21 degrees overnight, even though we were still seeing more than 30 degrees in the daytime. So, towards the end of September, I started walking with my friend Sheila again, on three mornings each week. 

The Salt Lake had mostly dried out, but there was a little patch of water. I was told that flamingoes have been spotted already, although we haven't yet seen any on our walks. 

But now it's almost the end of October. We've managed not to use any air conditioning this month - though we were using it right up to the end of September - but we're still running ceiling fans, day and night. The early morning temperatures are still 19-21 degrees. The daytime temperatures have mostly remained up to 30-31 degrees. This morning, the Salt Lake didn't look much different; in previous years it's usually had quite a bit of water by the end of October. 

We've had a bit of rain, two or three times, but no more than about five minutes at a time despite forecasts of thunderstorms and heavy rain. I've had to keep watering the plants, something I don't usually have to do at this time of year.  I haven't yet put even our lightweight duvet on the bed, and I haven't got out my jeans. I did find a thin, light-weight jacket that I wore a few times when walking in the morning, but I didn't remember it today, and didn't need it. I haven't wanted long trousers to walk in, either. 

We had a surprise yesterday, on visiting one of the DIY shops locally, to find that they already had extensive Christmas displays. Here's just one of the sections:

It seems a bit premature, when people are still going around in tee shirts and shorts, but perhaps they know something we don't. November is when we usually start thinking about central heating, so maybe this year we'll move straight from summer into winter...

That's not what the forecast suggests:

But they haven't been all that accurate, recently. And tonight we put the clocks back an hour, so it will be light earlier in the morning (which is good for early morning walkers) but it will be dark earlier in the evenings. 

I haven't updated this blog in a long time.  So here are a few other random items that may or may not be of interest: 

• At the start of September, we had our sofit and fascia boards re-painted, repaired and/or replaced by a young friend, using a boom lift to reach the roof. I didn't even know what sofit or fascia boards were until Richard pointed out that they desperately needed maintenance. 

• Some long-standing friends came to stay for a week, early in September. Mostly they sailed with Richard, but one afternoon we drove to a village festival where there was grape-treading, long speeches and traditional dancing. There were more people than I've seen in one place for a long time:

• Our bird of paradise plant bloomed a couple of weeks ago, for the first time in eight years: 

• Richard celebrated his birthday over two days: we had a barbecue for a few friends in our side yard, and the following day the two of us went to eat at the Art Cafe, somewhere we hadn't been for many years.The staff were younger than they used to be, but the place and the menu did not seem to have changed at all. 

• I had stopped spraying everywhere against large and unpleasant insects, as there were very few in August, none at all in September. Then a couple of days ago, I saw tiny ants swarming on the food processor. I cleaned them off, only to find more on another nearby appliance a few hours later. So I pulled everything out, cleaned away the inevitable crud that accumulates behind kitchen appliances, and sprayed the area with biokill.  Then I found more of these tiny creatures running around on the top of the microwave. Apparently they were nesting inside the vents. Google tells me this is not unusual, and the microwave still works.  Spraying the top and sides of the microwave seems to have helped. 

• Lady Jane must have learned that classic early-reading phrase, 'The cat sat on the mat'. Every time I set the table for our evening meal, she sits down on the mats in the middle:

This may all sound rather frivolous, given the horrific war which, geographically, isn't all that far from Cyprus. A lot of exiles have passed through, en route elsewhere, and a few remain. This little island is braced for many more. We've had two people (both friends of friends) staying in our guest flat: one for a couple of nights, one for rather longer. 

The news sites are increasingly negative, with just a few brief lighter articles. The world seems to be a dangerous place, but, where possible, life goes on. While we pray for peace, with little hope of a solution, we can be thankful for all we have, and make the most of it while we still can. 

April, and restrictions ease in Cyprus

So it's over two years since the pandemic started. Case numbers are still fairly high in Cyprus, given that the population is not much more than a million. But restrictions are easing, as they have in many other Western countries in the past couple of months. We still have to wear masks in shops and other indoor public spaces, but safe passes haven't had to be shown in supermarkets or other grocery shops for a couple of weeks, and as of Monday they won't need to be shown anywhere. 

I mentioned in my last post that March had turned chilly, as often happens during the first week of March. I didn't expect that it would continue to be decidedly on the cool side for Cyprus. We've had to have our gas tank refilled at least three times this winter - it was only once a year ago. The central heating was coming on, if only for half an hour or so, every day until the end of the month. 

We realised how unusual that was the day after the clocks went forward (the last Sunday of March); we didn't change the central heating timer clock, and realised it had not previously occurred to us that we might need to. Never before has the heating come on during the daylight savings/summer time period.

I was still wearing several layers of clothes, using a microwave wheat bag every night, and still using our double thickness of duvet (13 togs and 4.5 togs together). Although I change the sheets and pillowcases every week, I only change the duvet cover once a fortnight - and both times, during March, I pondered whether to move to just the 13 tog duvet, and quickly decided against it. It's only in the past week that it started to feel over-warm, and today I put away the 4.5 tog duvet. At some point we'll have a couple of weeks when we just need that, then I'll wash them both and pack them away for the summer.

So it was no surprise to learn that March was the coldest ever for Larnaka (and other parts of the island). 

I took very few photos. I didn't even take one of yellow foliage - perhaps it took longer to appear. I did take this photo, however, which is mostly yellow, about four weeks ago:

A crate of lemons, brought to us by a friend who had been employed to cut down an old lemon tree that was growing too close to someone's house. That wasn't all of them - we took maybe 25% of the lemons we were offered.  I don't know how many kilograms there were, but I spent a fair bit of time grating skin to freeze zest, juicing them - to freeze, or use.  

I've frozen two biggish boxes of lemon 'cubes' to use when I need just a tablespoon of the juice in the months when lemons are more difficult to get hold of, and several small boxes with 100ml each of lemon juice to use in various recipes that need more than a tablespoon. I've also frozen a couple of boxes of lemon slices, to use in water, or on salmon.  And during many of those chilly evenings we drank hot lemon and honey. 

I had to throw out maybe three or four that started to go mouldy, but I kept the crate outside, and the colder weather meant that most of them kept very well. I haven't used them all, even now. But the ones that remain are very small and getting a bit dried out.

As usual, I walked three times a week with my friend Sheila, along part of the Salt Lake trail. I say 'as usual' but for a couple of weeks in January I didn't walk due to having Covid, and for a couple of weeks in February she didn't walk, due to isolating and then having Covid herself. But in March we were both fine, and although we sometimes had to wrap up extra-warm, with woolly hats and scarves, it was good to get out first thing. 

In addition to being cold, there was a fair amount of rain, so that the Salt Lake was about as full as it ever gets: 

The picture doesn't really show it well, but usually there are several metres more of 'beach' before the water starts.

Flamingoes, of course, have been much in evidence, though never close enough for good pictures:

My freesias came out, over a week later than their usual date, and didn't last long, but they were pretty for a few days:

At the end of the month, I popped around the corner to buy something from 'Kritikos', our convenient supermarket which was previously 'Savemore', and before that 'Micro', and before that 'Orphanides Express', and before that 'Kleitos'.  Yes, all those different supermarkets in the not-quite-sixteen years since we moved to this house (how can it possibly be sixteen...?)

And, like all its predecessors, it had closed. Abruptly, with no warning. 

I wonder what its next incarnation will be... or whether it just isn't commercially viable to have a supermarket in a residential area like this one. 

I don't even take as many photos of the cats as I used to. Alexander and Lady Jane are eight years old now, and Alex, at least, is just starting to slow down a little. He, like me, seems quite sensitive to both extremes of weather; he doesn't like it being cold, but he doesn't like heat either. Here he is, worn out after being outside in the unexpected warmth of April (and it was VERY hot for a couple of days - up to 27 degrees, with a dust storm from the Sahara)

Jane, however, likes the heat so much that even in July and August she pointedly departs from any room where the air conditioning is turned on. She has spent much of the winter curled up in a beanbag right against a radiator. And even in early April, when I was, at last, shedding a layer or two, she was clearly hinting that she wanted the heating on again:

Yes, Jane is such an unusual cat that she actually sleeps in a bed that is intended for cats! 

Visitors and Blustery Days in Cyprus

January, as I described at length, was mostly taken up with Covid. Not that I had it seriously, thankfully, and Richard never did catch it. By the end of the month normal pandemic life had resumed albeit with reduced energy levels and a nasty cough. 

In the middle of February we were delighted that one of my second cousins and her family were able to come and visit. I last saw my cousin thirty-five years ago but one of the great things about Facebook is the ability to get in touch with long-lost friends and relatives. 

The weather, as so often happens mid-February, was pleasantly warm and sunny, so they were able to get out and about, and the week flew past. Unfortunately my cousins were not able to meet our closest friends, who were isolating for most of the month, as one after another of them caught Covid. Happily it was even more mildly than I had it, and (so far, anyway) with no lasting effects. 

And so to March. 

Almost every year the balmier weather of February gives way to a much chillier March. Walking with my friend in the Salt Lake Park on Thursday morning, wearing a warm hat, rather than a sun hat, we were startled to see a rainbow:

It wasn't raining where we were walking (for which I was thankful) and the rainbow didn't last very long. But it was extremely windy. We watched some birds trying to fly from the top of a tree, apparently hovering or even flying backwards as they battled against the gusts.

Yesterday was quite pleasant, and Richard went sailing with a friend although it was so cold, with rain threatening, that they didn't stay out as long as they had hoped. 

Today, after lunch, Richard suggested a walk along the Mackenzie promenade, and perhaps an ice cream at one of the cafés. It looked very windy despite the temperature being 17 degrees and sunny, so we wrapped up warmly. Richard took a woolly hat. I didn't, but rather wished I had done so...

The waves, usually very calm here, were extremely choppy: 

As we approached the section with the ice cream cafés, I saw a sign for hot chocolate. Somehow that seemed a lot more appealing than ice cream, as we were both feeling a little chilly. So I suggested we ask if they had any non-dairy milks. Yes, they told us, they had either coconut or almond milk. A great improvement on a couple of years ago when the only option tended to be soya. So we ordered hot chocolate made with coconut milk and sat down in some relief after the buffeting of the wind. 

They were very good, and warmed us up nicely. We don't think we've been in this particular café before - it had a typically Cypriot interior, with both a wood-burning heater for the winter, and high wall fans for the summer:

Neither were switched on, since the temperature inside was just right, at least with our warm jackets on. 

The other typical feature was a cat, wandering around sniffing under the tables in case any previous customers had dropped anything:

It was quite a large cat, evidently an elderly one which seemed entirely oblivious to people. Not a feral cat, however: it was clean and well-fed. 

Then, warmed by our hot chocolate, we set out again, this time against the wind so it was much more of a struggle. I got quite cold before we reached the turn-off for the car park.  Yes, we drove most of the way, as we have done before when walking along the promenade. We didn't walk nearly far enough to walk off the hot chocolate calories... but I was extremely thankful to be out of the wind at last.

This blustery weather is predicted to continue, along with somewhat grey days and some rain, and chilly nights, though reasonably warm in the daytimes: 

I feel as if my energy levels are pretty much restored now, or as much as is possible at my advanced age. I still have an occasional cough, but it's a whole lot better than it was a month ago. 

Flamingoes!

Just two days ago, I wrote about the Larnaka Salt Lake. It's an interesting area not just because of the salt, but because it's home to thousands of flamingoes over the winter. There weren't very many on Thursday morning, and they were rather a long way away.

But this morning, there were lots. Several hundred, at least. We reached the Airport Road end of the trail, and could see quite a group of flamingoes, close to the edge of the lake: 

Nobody is supposed to go any closer to them than the trail, as they could be frightened away. And I rather wished I'd taken my camera rather than just being equipped with my phone. Still, zooming in slightly, even though not high quality, does make some of the flamingoes fairly clear. Even if they still just look like pink blobs, they are at least pink blobs with long legs.  The water isn't deep, so they were standing in their usual spread out groups, making quite a bit of noise. 

No maximum group size, masks or social distancing required for flamingoes! 

These weren't the only ones on the lake - here's another zoomed out shot, showing many others, further away. It was supposed to have been raining yesterday afternoon and most of today, so perhaps they arrived in anticipation, only to find a pleasantly sunny weekend: 

As we watched, the long line in the distance started moving. Apparently one flamingo had decided to head in the direction of the group nearest to us, and the others followed... 

There's a notice board at the end of the Salt Lake trail, explaining some of the history of the place, along with some of the mythology (albeit expressed as history), in both English and Greek: 

Here's just the English part which might be clear enough to read if you click the photo to enlarge it. It doesn't say how the salt was harvested or cleaned, but it does explain that the flamingoes eat tiny pink brine shrimps that grow in the lake during the winter. When this source of food is gone (usually around April or May), they fly away to another lake in Cyprus, or back to Africa for the winter there. 

Larnaka Salt Lake

Having known about the Larnaka Salt Lake for twenty-three years, now, and walked along part of it probably 100 times or more each year since 2013, I tend to forget that it's quite unusual. Lakes, after all, generally have fresh water. I know there's a famous Salt Lake City in the American state of Utah, but it's only since knowing about our local salt lakes that I realised there was an actual salty lake there.

We've had two heavy rainstorms so far this month.  The first one didn't appear to make any difference to the level of water in the local Salt Lake, but after the second major rain, it did look as if it were rather fuller. 

Those white bits near the water's edge are patches of salt.  Today, we walked a bit closer to have a look, as yesterday's warmth and sunshine had evaporated some of the 'new' water, leaving quite a bit of salt exposed: 

Here's what it looks like rather closer: 

And here's an even closer view of one bit:

It looks very dirty.  According to various sources, salt was harvested each year up to 1986 - I hope they cleaned it and re-evaporated it before marketing it. But since 1986 it hasn't been legal to use or sell the salt, which is probably just as well. 

Another wide view although the white salt looks rather pink in this photo:

That's possibly because the sun was properly rising at this stage: 

We walked a little way back along the sand, but it was quite boggy in places, so we pushed our way through the shrubbery to the trail. And we think we saw a few flamingoes.  This photo doesn't show them at all:

But in this one, where I used the camera's digital zoom, I could just about make out a little line of pink, right in the middle.  It's hard to spot on this smaller version, but if you click the photo to enlarge it, you might see it too. 

As the level of the lake increases, there should be more flamingoes arriving. Possibly as soon as next week, as there's a lot more rain predicted for this weekend. The flamingoes come either from Africa or from the Middle East, or possibly from both general locations, and it always amazes us how they seem to know instinctively when there's enough water to come back, whether it's late September or, like this year, mid-November. 

 

On Exercise

I never liked sports when I was at school. All that running up and down, trying to get goals, or hit a ball over a net... it seemed entirely pointless. And I didn't much like the competitive aspect, either. That might sound odd for someone who thoroughly enjoys board and card games, but then one can't have a friendly chat while trying to play hockey or netball, or even tennis. 

I didn't like swimming, either, and I wasn't much good at gym. I did like modern dance, when we did that; I was in the Scottish Country Dancing club, too, and took over running it when I was fourteen or fifteen. That's quite energetic, so, added to my walk from the bus stop (about a mile) each afternoon, and the enforced team sports, I probably kept reasonably fit as a teenager. 

Fast forward to the late 1980s when I was married with two young children, and I walked miles - to and from local shops, to and from playgroups and toddler groups and eventually school. It was no more than about a mile each way to each place, but if I'd had a pedometer I'm sure I'd have registered at least five or six miles each day. 

When we moved to the US for two years, with no local shops within walking distance, and no playgroups, my walking was limited to once a day to and from my older son's school.  I did feel unfit at times, but when we moved back to the UK in 1994, the boys joined Cubs/Scouts and a local choir. They also both started piano lessons. So I did a lot more walking, and became rather fitter.

Then we moved to Cyprus. The heat precluded much walking, and we educated the boys at home. We walked to and from church activities, but the church we attended for the first eight or nine years was only about half a kilometre from our home. I did some gardening, mostly in vain as it was a huge and neglected plot, so keeping the weeds down was impossible. 

We'd got into the habit of doing a big supermarket shop, by car, once a week when we were in the United States, and we'd kept that going during the busy three years back in the UK, and for our first few years in Cyprus. It took me a long time to feel settled and to discover local shops (other than the excellent Perseus bakery, just around the corner, where we bought a lot of our bread). Before long the boys were old enough to walk to and from their local activities without an accompanying parent - and it was all too easy to become something of a couch potato.

A couple of times I acquired pedometers, thinking that if I could track the number of steps I took each day, I might feel more motivated to be a little more active. One of them was a freebie, the other bought inexpensively on special offer. I didn't get along with either of them. One broke rather quickly, the other didn't seem to track my steps at all accurately. Not even close. 

When we moved in 2006, from a large bungalow to a three-storey house, we discovered muscles we had almost lost the use of as we ran up and down hundreds of steps over the first few days.  Our home education days were just about over and we were soon to be empty nesters. I discovered some excellent local shops, meaning we didn't have to go to a supermarket every week, and I would sometimes walk to a shop before the heat of the day. But it was minimal, and I felt extremely out of condition.

So it was a good thing that I started walking regularly with my friend Sheila a little over eight years ago. We mostly walked either 4km or 8km, depending on the time, as she lived very close to the trail, and we weren't more than a kilometre away. It took me a few weeks to feel energised and able to chat while walking briskly. She's now moved a bit further away, and we only ever walk 4km on the trail now,  but I'm happy to say that we've continued walking together, albeit with breaks for the summer. Then of course we couldn't walk at all over the lockdown period in April and May. 

At the start of this year, I acquired a smartphone. I installed a step-counter, and at first was a little obsessive with it, wondering if I could do 10,000 steps every day, as was a trend some years ago. I quickly realised that, for me, this is unrealistic. When I walk with Sheila, I typically do about 8.000 steps so on those days - like today - I do usually get close to 10,000 by the end of the day.  Here's how it looked an hour or so ago:

If I reach 9950 by the end of the day, I might walk an extra couple of times around the room so as to pass 10k, but since that's not really serious exercise it's a bit pointless.  On days when I don't leave the house, I only do about 2,000 steps around the house, doing normal cooking, laundry etc. I was also walking locally, including popping into the local fruitaria around 6.30am two or three times a week, but with the latest anti-Covid regulations I can't go there before 10.00am as I'm not yet 65.  I sometimes do go for a short walk around a few blocks, but even though I only set my daily target as 5,000 steps, I don't always even manage that. 

I've read several articles, all saying that 10,000 steps a day is a good goal, more than that for people who want to lose weight. One I saw recently said that the most important thing is that at least 2,000 steps per day is done 'briskly' - and most of my walking is faster than 100 steps per minute, so apparently that's a good thing. 

During the strictest lockdown period when my exercise was limited to walking up and down our rather small side yard, I only managed an average of around 3,000 steps per day.  But now the weather's cooler and I'm back to walking part of the Salt Lake trail three times a week, it's looking better. Here's the first week of November:

(I had to Google to find out how to take screenshots on my phone, and then had trouble uploading them... but eventually it worked)

We walked this morning, and were pleased to see that, with the recent rains, the Salt Lake is looking a little fuller than it was:

After the first week of relaxed regulations

Living in Cyprus, where the infection rate is low and where we don't personally know anyone who has been diagnosed with Covid-19, the situation still feels almost surreal at times. We read news sites, both local and international, and our hearts go out to the families and friends of those who have died.  But when we come across people who don't believe it's nearly as bad as reported, we can almost understand why they feel this way.  For most, the disease is mild. Many are exposed but don't catch it. Every day the Cyprus papers report hundreds of tests of known contacts, yet only a handful test positive.

Since I last wrote, we celebrated Greek Easter, albeit in a somewhat subdued way.  On Greek Good Friday (April 17th) I made hot cross buns for the first time in many years. Half a recipe was sufficient to make eight, and while they weren't very beautiful, they tasted good on Good Friday and Easter Saturday:

For Easter Sunday, we decided to have a proper roast lunch.  We almost always have a cooked meal at lunch-time on Sunday, although for the rest of the week I cook in the evening. But we don't usually bother with a roast chicken.  However, I made an expedition - using up my one authorised absence from home for the day - to the supermarket around the corner on Easter Saturday, to buy a chicken.

I also made cranberry sauce, as we had frozen some cranberries left from Christmas, roast potatoes and three kinds of vegetable.

Last year we bought some silicon moulds for chocolates, and I filled them in two different ways, wanting to make an equivalent of creme eggs that were dairy-free.  This year I simply made a dairy-free coconut mixture, something like the middle of a Bounty chocolate bar, and filled a variety of chocolates with that. They worked very well.

Of course, since we couldn't share either the lunch or the chocolates with anyone else, they lasted us a long time.  We had cold chicken on the Tuesday, fajitas on the Wednesday, and still froze some more for future pies. The chocolates lasted us all week.

I celebrated a milestone birthday that week, too.  I made a carrot cake, and for the evening spanokopita, my favourite food (dairy-free versions of both). We were eating them for several days, as we had nobody to share them with. In the evening, we went out for a walk. It was a very low-key birthday. I'm not sure what we'd have done if we had not been in lockdown; we hadn't made any plans. Just as well, really.

I mentioned in my last blog post that we were running low on cat litter.  But we had sufficient for the Easter weekend, even though it makes me a little anxious when we're close to the end of something. I usually buy new cat litter when we are down to our last couple of bags.  Instead, we almost reached the end by the time we went out shopping together, with the car, for the first time in over five weeks.  We did remember in time that Friday May 1st was a public holiday, so we went the day before.

To make it worthwhile both getting authorisation for shopping, we went to three shops (and the Post Office before that).  The first one was the shop we call the Nut Warehouse, where usually we can select different kinds of nuts to put in paper bags, though seeds and dried fruit come ready-packaged.

This time, however, even almonds and walnuts were pre-bagged.  The staff were wearing masks, but as there were no other customers we both went in.  When we got home, knowing that the coronavirus lasts less than 24 hours at around 20 degrees, but potentially up to two weeks in the fridge, I spread our purchases out on the work surface and left them until the following day:

Not that there have been any recorded cases of people becoming infected through stray viruses left on packaging, but it seemed safer not to refrigerated anything, even though it had all been at room temperature in the shop probably for at least a day or two already.

We went to Metro too; since they were counting people in and out, Richard stayed in the car and I went in. Someone waved a thermometer at my forehead, and told me to sanitise my hands and put on plastic gloves, People were pretty good about social distancing, and since they were limiting customers, it wasn't crowded. I bought four bags of cat litter and a few other bits and pieces that we were running low on.  We also went to the froutaria together, for a change.

When we got home, I noticed our glass recycling, which we'd forgotten to put in the car.  This is what six weeks of glass looks like for us:

One empty Marmite, two small instant coffee jars, one honey jar, one jam, a mayonnaise, and a few others.   We'll take them next time we venture to Metro.

May Day was inevitably muted; the government was wise to extend the full lockdown until the following Monday, rather than relaxing regulations on May 1st, as it would have been difficult for people not to want to march and congregate.

But on May 4th, since the statistics were pretty good, the first phase of relaxation began.  During lockdown, we were supposed to stay at home unless we had to get out for essential reasons (which included exercise) and could only go out once per day, sending a coded text message to get authorisation.  Now we can go out three times per day, and are no longer limited to 'essential' outings.  The construction industry has started up again, and many shops have opened.  We're no longer limited to exercising within a kilometre of our house, though we must stay in our district. And it's permitted for two unrelated people to exercise together, so long as they observe social distancing.

What a difference it makes to be allowed out three times per day!  I had not been out for any early morning walks for six weeks, not wanting to use up my one chance of getting out of the house in cases I needed to shop later, or go out for a walk with Richard.

So on May 4th I went out for a local walk on my own, just because I could, first thing. And in the evening we went down to the marina for the first time in six weeks.  It's about a kilometre and a half away, and certainly not 'essential'.  Richard was worried that there would be a lot of growth around the sides of the boat, but was pleased to find that it wasn't too bad at all.  He opened her up for a bit of fresh air, and emptied out the dehumidifier, but it wasn't overflowing.

It was strange seeing Europe Square, opposite the marina, almost deserted:

On Tuesday, since two unrelated people can now exercise together, I resumed walking with my friend Sheila.

We weren't sure about the Salt Lake trail, as it's only about 1.8 metres wide, but mostly we walked on either side, or one of us was slightly in front of the other.  Perhaps we weren't always quite 2 metres apart, but we observed the social distancing principles, and when both facing forward and walking it would be almost impossible for a virus to be transferred if one of us happened to be infectious.

Then on Wednesday evening, Richard and I went for a short walk along a part of the trail, so - for once - I saw the Salt Lake at sunset:

We still can't have any gatherings in our house, or go to anyone else's home. Not that our neighbours seem to be taking this too seriously, but they have many fewer visitors than they used to. Richard can't take his boat out for a sail, though he hopes to do some work on her in the next week.

If all is well, the next phase of the relaxation will start on May 21st, and he'll be able to sail then. We'll also be able to gather in groups of up to ten people, and are very much looking forward to doing so.  Yesterday there were only two new cases of covid-19 in Cyprus, and today only one new case.

This is very encouraging;  with six days of relaxed regulations, a spike was expected.  That may still happen next week, but figures suggest that the virus is almost entirely gone from the community.  There are still around 400 active cases, around ten of them serious, but extensive testing is not revealing widespread infection. Early lockdown with rigorous tracing, isolating and testing seems to be a good method of combating this horrible thing.

So life plods on.  We're still playing Settlers of Catan by a Zoom online meeting with our friends one evening per week. Richard is still recording (again via Zoom) and uploading services for St Helena's Church to premiere on Sunday mornings. 

But, all being well, we're hopeful of resuming something closer to normality within the next couple of weeks.