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. 

Another week over...

 Wasn't New Year just a few days ago...? How can it be nearly half-way through January already? Time has a way of racing past, faster and faster and I really don't know where the last week has gone.

Part of that, I acknowledge, is that I've had quite a bad cold. Which I'll come to later... 

On Friday January 5th, we went for a walk along the sea-front to check our PO Box. And there, as so often happens at this time of year, we found ELEVEN Christmas cards. All from the UK, posted on different dates between the 5th and 17th December. 

So much for official 'last posting dates'. It all seems quite random. 

That nearly doubled the number of cards we received for the 2023 Christmas season, so I put them up along with those we had already received:

 

We do appreciate the cards that arrive. If you happen to be reading this and are one of the people who still sends us a card each year, then thank you very much. But we have been rather shocked at the amount of postage necessary to send a card to Cyprus from the UK. So please don't feel that you must! Electronic greetings are also welcome. It's rather sad that, even if folk post cards early in December, they can take a month to arrive. This is why I always keep the latest cards in an envelope along with our tree and decorations, and put them up the following year. 

So these, which we displayed right through December, are actually the cards we were sent for Christmas 2022 (many of which didn't arrive until early or even mid-January 2023)

The traditional times for taking down Christmas decorations range from January 5th (Twelfth Night) through to Candlemas (February 2nd). But having had ours up since December 1st, I felt that it was time to take them down on January 5th... so we made sure the knitted wise men arrived at the manger even though it was a day earlier than Epiphany:

In the evening, Richard helped me take everything down, and packed it away much more neatly and efficiently than I can manage when I'm doing the un-decorating alone.

And so, that was Christmas. 

Winding back a few hours, on that same Friday, which felt like a very long day, one way and another, I went to hang out the laundry I had done in the morning, only to find it still rather wet. I put it on to spin again, and nothing happened. Well, the washing machine made a lot of noise, but the drum did not turn at all. 

Uh-oh.

The washing machine, which was eight and a half years old, had been playing up for many months: I could no longer select the programme I used the most, and had to use a different one. Sometimes it was hard even to find that. We wondered about seeing if it could be fixed, but thought it (a) unlikely and (b) probably expensive. 

With a second major thing not working, we realised the time had come to buy a new washing machine.  Our previous one lasted nine years, and ended dramatically by boil-washing some clothes that never really recovered. Eight-and-a-half isn't significantly less. And whereas we were happy to buy a used (and probably elderly) steamer at the thrift store, just a day earlier, we didn't even look for a second-hand washing machine.  A steamer might be used ten or twelve times in a year, and we can manage quite well without it if we have to. A washing machine is used at least 150 times a year, with just the two of us, and I would find it extremely difficult to cope without it. 

So we went out to our favourite local white goods store, George Theodorou, after perusing their website, and ordered a new machine. To be delivered on Monday. And while many things have become more expensive in the past decade, I was slightly surprised to realise that our new washing machine was forty euros cheaper than the one we bought in 2015. And it comes with a five-year guarantee.

Our washing machine is located on an outside utility balcony, inside a biggish metal cupboard.  It works well; it's right by the washing lines, and it's not taking up space in the kitchen. 

But also in the cupboard, next to the machine, we tend to accumulate things like old cardboard boxes, ends of cans of paint - particularly when they're still in use - and unused cat litter trays. I also had a large bag of polystyrene beads for beanbags. At one point we had four beanbags, but one of them was damaged by one of the cats, and we didn't really think we needed four.. so I rescued the filling, and thought it would be useful for topping up the three remaining beanbags. The fillings tend to get squashed, so the bags become less comfortable with time.

It was, I think, a good idea. But I did that probably five or six years ago, and had not done any topping up. I also hadn't realised that the large bin bag in which I put the spare beads was a biodegradable one. And it started to biodegrade. I had noticed a few beans leaking out but hadn't done anything about it... and the slight leak, just a week or two earlier, had turned into a major cascade...

I might have left this for weeks, even months longer, although a high wind could have caused beans to go flying all over the place. But knowing that a new washing machine was coming on Monday was an excellent motivator. So on Sunday I set to work with a jug and a new bin liner... 

Richard helped, and between us we managed to tidy up the inside of the cupboard effectively, getting rid of some almost empty (and dried up) paint containers, and throwing out some of the beans which had become very grubby. 

On Monday the new washing machine was delivered and installed, and the old one taken away. I hadn't realised that the door was so dark, I couldn't see the laundry going around inside. But I guess it doesn't matter. 

The programme names seem a bit random; I've tried three different ones so far, and they all work well. The cycles are rather quicker than those on the previous machine, which is a plus point. 

On Thursday, when I went out for a walk with Sheila first thing, the flamingoes were right on the shore. It had rained a bit, and evidently there were plenty of fresh little pink shrimp by the shore. 

We can't get too close, or they become frightened, and my phone zoom isn't great - but I was quite pleased with this picture. 

2023 broke all the records for warmth, at least in Cyprus, and December was no exception. As I said in a previous post, I don't think the overnight temperatures dropped below ten degrees (Celcius, of course) and the daytimes were mostly 20-23 in the shade. 

Early January remained warm, too. But on Friday, for the first time, my phone showed slightly cooler temperatures when I got up:

And, indeed, it rained - not much on Friday afternoon, but today has been very grey, with rain more than once. A report in the Cyprus Mail said that snow is falling in Troodos. 

Perhaps winter is, at last, arriving. 

Oh, and my cold...

I had a slight sniffle on Monday that barely affected me. I walked with Sheila as usual first thing on Tuesday, but felt exhausted when I got home and very 'coldy' for the rest of the day. It was  really quite bad on Wednesday, then started to improve. It's pretty much gone by now. I didn't test for Covid; mainly because most of our remaining free testing kits have dried up entirely. But I checked several sites to see if there were any clear differences. I was sneezing a lot (common with colds, very uncommon with Covid). However I didn't have a headache, other than slight pressure around my sinuses on Wednesday (headaches are very common with Covid), nor did I have any aches and pains anywhere else. I was a bit tired, but not in a debilitating way. And my coughs were productive.

All of which is probably far more information than anyone reading this cares to read, so I'll end here. 

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! 

Half-way through January

It's only three weeks since Christmas. That's easy enough to calculate, of course, but it feels like much, much longer. December - when we were still able to have up to ten people meeting at a time - seems like a distant dream.

Christmas Day was pleasant despite being unable to see any of our family. We were able to go to a church service in the morning, albeit in a masked and distanced way, and it was good to see people. Our closest friends came over for lunch, and games in the afternoon, followed by a high tea where none of us felt hungry, but all of us ate plenty.  

On Boxing Day we didn't do much; on the Sunday we had some other friends to lunch and mainly ate leftovers. 

It almost felt like normality. 

But the Covid numbers were climbing. On December 28th, there were 751 new cases announced in Cyprus.  That's equivalent to around 50,000 in the larger countries of Western Europe, or the UK. This is a small country, and while the hospitals weren't yet full, the authorities were getting worried. The restrictions - such as they were - from mid-December were due to end on January 11th. Schools were closed until then, and only two people were supposed to meet outside, although - bizarrely - we could still be with up to eight other people indoors.

On 29th December, after an emergency meeting, the government announced that people could no longer visit anyone else's home. That was in place until December 10th, we were told, but on New Year's Eve there was a relaxation of the rules. We could invite one other family to our home, and the curfew would not start until 1am on New Year's Day rather than 9.00pm as it had been the rest of the time. 

So Richard took the opportunity of inviting some friends to sail on New Year's Eve; it seemed reasonable to be able to count his boat as part of our home, and was safer (from the virus perspective) since it's outside rather than indoors.  And as the wind was light, and the weather not too hot, I went too. For my first time on his boat Liza. 

It was an enjoyable day, and I said I might even go again at the end of 2021. 

In the evening we were the one household invited to our other friends for an evening meal and games; I just about managed to stay awake. I really wanted to make sure 2020 had gone... even though it took me a few days to catch up on the lost sleep. I don't do well with late nights!

So from January 1st we were back to virtual meetings only, with the exception that two people from different households are still allowed to meet outside for exercise. So I continued walking first thing with my friend Sheila. Sadly, although daily Covid case numbers dropped a bit, they were still in the four hundred range, so we knew the restrictions were not going to be relaxed on January 11th. Indeed, it was fairly certain that we'd be subject to another lockdown. 

That has proved to be the case; it was announced last week that from January 10th until the end of the month we must stay at home, other than 'essential' outings, for which we must send an SMS request to the government. But it's not as strict as the lockdown last spring.  For one thing, we're allowed two daily requests rather than being limited to one. Somehow that makes an enormous difference.

We're also allowed to walk in parks or on beaches, as exercise is one of the permitted reasons for going out. And two unrelated people can still meet for exercise, though no more than two (unless one of them has under-age children with them). 

The weather has been very mild, with no rain at all until Wednesday when there were several heavy showers. That meant that on Thursday morning, the flamingoes were much closer to the shores of the Salt Lake than usual. I didn't have my camera with me, of course, but was able to take a slightly better photo of a few of them with my phone: 

And I took a video, albeit not great quality, showing flamingoes walking, and some of them flying.  (If you decide to watch it, it looks better if you either use the full-screen option or click the YouTube option to see it there).

Walking first thing is not just good exercise, and a chance to spend time with a friend, it's a great start to the day, which gives me more energy and focus.  At least, in theory. It's not easy to get things done in this continued uncertainty. And while we had plans to do various things in the house, we didn't manage to get organised enough to buy what we needed before the current lockdown. All shops deemed non-essential are closed, although many more now offer online ordering. 

So the first week has almost ended, and it hasn't been too bad. Perhaps it's easier because we've done it before. Maybe it's less stressful because we're no longer worried that the virus might leap up at us from the supermarket. We all wear masks, and of course we do wash our hands when we arrive home, as it's a good idea in general. But I often forget to sanitise my hands on the way in and out of shops, and it's not enforced. Nor is anyone wearing those horrible disposable plastic gloves that were required back in the spring last year. 

And perhaps it's less worrying because, although the scope of Covid has been far, far worse than anyone imagined, the vaccinations offer hope, at last, that the elderly and the most vulnerable will be safe. Of course it's very difficult for many businesses, hard hit by last year's lockdown, suddenly having to close again. Some may never recover. 

The positive case numbers have been a bit better - around 250-350 the last few days, reflecting the fact that we haven't been able to meet in other people's houses since the start of the year. We don't know what will be announced for February; perhaps 'non-essential' businesses will be able to open again, if the numbers stabilise and the hospitals stop being over-crowded. But I doubt if we'll be allowed to get together with friends inside for some time to come. 

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. 

 

New year, new decade, new (to me) phone....

Back in September 2018, I wrote about starting to use a basic smartphone. I called it my 'slightly intelligent' phone as it didn't actually do all that much. That was good, I thought, as I had resisted the idea of a smartphone for a long time. But being able to see photos of the grandchildren via Whatsapp was a big motivation to acquire one, and to start using it as a phone when my old phone (which was not at all intelligent) was becoming unusable.

I was surprised how much I liked it. It didn't have room to install much, but my son put an extra chip in it, and I was able to download an app for gmail, and Facebook 'Lite', and a few other things. When I travelled briefly to the UK a year ago, to see the family, I didn't take a computer; I was able to keep in touch with friends and Facebook via my phone.

What I liked most of all was being able to check email and Facebook updates quickly in the morning, before going out for a walk or having breakfast. Sometimes I'm anxious to hear from someone, or concerned about something, and in the past I would have turned my computer on - only to get distracted, possibly for hours. With the phone, I could check all I needed in about five minutes, and then get on with my day. I've reached the point where I don't usually turn my computer on until after lunch, meaning I get a lot more done in the mornings.

There were some disadvantages to such a basic phone, however. The main and most frustrating one was not having a camera on the front. Not that I wanted to take selfies; the problem was that trying to video chat with my grandchildren meant I had to stand in front of a long mirror in order for them to see me. We would try the computer, but the technology doesn't always work. So we would usually end up waiting for Richard, if he was out, so we could use his phone.

I was mildly disappointed that there was no way to instal a step-counter on the phone, and also found the poor quality of the photos on it a bit disturbing. I still have a camera and mostly use that. But when I go walking with my friend Sheila early in the morning, I don't usually take anything other than my house keys and phone.  There are a lot of flamingoes on the Salt Lake this year (over a thousand, we're told), but when I tried taking a photo with my old phone, the best of them looked like this:

If you click to enlarge it, you'll see that they just look like pink blobs.

Back in the summer, my family tried to persuade me to buy a better phone, and I did look at some options. But some were too big, and some were too heavy, and the ones that quite appealed (and which weren't horrendously expensive) had poor reviews.  So I decided not to bother.

However, Richard bought a new Android to replace the one he had been using for work which had become unreliable, switching itself off every couple of minutes.  He had hoped I might like one the same, but it was too big for my hands, and too heavy to feel comfortable.

In an idle moment I did some online research and learned that random turning off is a common feature of this kind of phone when the battery needs replacing; it swells slightly, and triggers the off button. I quite liked that phone - so we decided to order a replacement battery, to see if it could be made to work.

Our son brought it out with him when he came for a week over Christmas, and I agreed to try it. He moved my sim, and the extra memory chip, and put the new battery in.  It worked!  It was so much faster than my other phone! Installing the same apps was easy and quick!

Yes, it really is only 15 degrees here at present, down to about 9 overnight.  Not warm at all.

The phone is bigger but not much heavier than my old one, and it has a camera on the front as well as the back. It also let me instal a step-counter, which I hope will motivate me to do a bit more walking. I'm not doing very well so far; this morning it was raining at 6.00am so I didn't go out walking with my friend.

The pictures taken still aren't as good as my real camera, but they're a lot better than the other phone was.  Here's how the flamingoes looked on the 'new' phone when we walked early in the morning on New Year's Eve:

They're still not particularly clear in a photo this size, but much more obviously flamingoes if you click to enlarge the picture.

Within a couple of days, I was carrying the phone around with me everywhere. I'm still getting used to some of the functions, and am quite slow with it. I am not planning to use it for YouTube or even browsing, but I like the speed, and the quality, and the ease of use.

I passed my other phone to my friend, for her younger daughters to use when out and about. They have already done more with it than I ever managed to do.  No doubt there are far more features on my 'new' one than I am aware of, and I probably won't ever discover the majority.

But, as we start the 2020s (yes, I know, this is technically the last year of the previous decade, but still the first year of the 'twenties') I don't expect to return to using a non-smart phone.

Flamingoes by the Salt Lake... and a few older board games

After a fairly dry and mild end to last year, and indeed beginning of January, the weather turned colder about ten days ago. We had some torrential rain - when it decides to rain here, it doesn't usually drizzle gently. It pours... I don't know if it's helped the reservoirs, which once again are much lower than they ought to be, but it's certainly helped the ground and the wild flowers locally.

On Tuesday morning, I grabbed my camera as I set off to walk with my friend Sheila; it had stopped raining so I knew it would be muddy, and hoped we might see a few flamingoes on the Salt Lake. The sun was shining and there were puddles every few metres, which we mostly managed to avoid:

Some years, the Salt Lake is quite full by this time of year, but even after a couple of days of extensive rain, there's still a lot of 'beach' showing:

We quickly saw flamingoes, although in this picture they just look like pink dots:

Here they are a little closer - there are thousands of them!

As we neared the Airport Road, we walked down onto the sandy area near the lake, and saw these baby flamingoes, still white rather than pink.  If you look carefully, you'll see a long row of pink ones in the background too:

We managed to get closer than I've ever been before without disturbing the birds:

However, although they didn't display any alarm, they did start walking away. And as we were trying to get closer still, as stealthily as possible, we were startled by a shout to keep away by someone with a large camera, perhaps a journalist or other professional, who was trying to photograph them from the road.

As we returned, we saw odd markings on the sand - evidently flamingo footprints!

We finished the walk, then sat and chatted for a few minutes on our garden swing, as we usually do. Then Sheila departed as two of her daughters had to get to their piano lessons, and I sorted out our breakfasts. Around ten o'clock Sheila's daughter K arrived with some knitting which had gone slightly wrong; so I helped her un-knit a few stitches and set her on the right path.

Shortly afterwards Sheila arrived with her two youngest daughters, after their piano lessons, and they decided to spend a couple of hours building and playing imaginary games with Lego.  K started reading one of my Chalet School books... so I suggested Sheila and I play some of my older two-person board games, which I recently brought up from our guest flat. I had planned to teach them to her daughters but they were all otherwise occupied.

We started with Quandary, a game which apparently originated in the early 1970s. I remember playing this regularly with a close school friend when she was at our house in my mid-teens.  It's a simple game to learn, but quite complex to think ahead. We played three rounds, all of them fairly quick:

I then opened Octago, a game which I don't ever remember playing.  Apparently it came out in the mid 1980s, so either it belonged to one of my sons, or - more likely - we bought it at the Thrift Shop when we moved to Cyprus. It's a game a bit like draughts/checkers, with the variation that pieces can turn rather than (or in addition to) moving.

It was quite a good game, though neither of us really worked out any strategies. I won in the end, but it took me a lot longer than it should have done to capture the final piece.

I then got out Kensington, a game which apparently didn't come out until 1979. I had thought it was earlier than that. It's very efficiently packed, in what appears to be a record sleeve (for those who remember records...).  I don't remember being particularly good at it - and, indeed, after initial frustrations as neither of us were getting anywhere, Sheila won rather resoundingly...

We were interested to note that Octogo claims to be for ages six and older, Kensington for ages seven to 107, and Quandary for ages ten plus.  We thought that Quandary was probably the easiest of the games to understand, and the one most likely to be enjoyed by Sheila's daughters at some point.  I would have rated it 7+.  Octogo, we thought, was a bit more complex and easier to make mistakes; probably fine for a game-playing child of seven, but I'd have rated it as 8+.  As for Kensington, it's quite a long game and difficult to get anywhere.  I wouldn't really recommend that for anyone under the age of ten.