Expanding my Reading Repertoire

 Richard went to the PO Box this morning, and retrieved four parcels - all of them for me. 

Each parcel contained one book. I ordered them nearly a month ago from the excellent Awesome Books site. The prices on that site are usually better than those on Amazon UK, with the huge advantage that there's a fixed postage cost of £2.99 per order, throughout Europe and most of the world. (Postage within the UK is free). 

But perhaps more importantly, Awesome Books claims to be the 'no 1 ethical retailer' for books, as well as CDs and DVDs. They donate books to schools all over the world, and they also rescue books from being thrown away. Not that they're poor quality. They sell new books as well as lightly-used second-hand books and the ones they call 'bargain bin' quality: but even those are in good condition. If I can buy something in the bargain bin, I do so.

Those familiar with my preferred reading genres might be a tad surprised to see what was in these four parcels:

They are not the gentle pastel covers of modern character-based novels about families and relationships, which are my favourite reads. Other than the one by Fannie Flagg, they are not by authors I have ever read before. They weren't even recommended to me via Amazon, based on my wishlist and previous purchases.

Instead, they are the books for the first four months of 2021 which will be discussed by the reading group I joined nearly a year ago. One was new, and three were second-hand. They are all, as far as I can tell, in perfect condition. 

I suppose it's rather strange that, in five-and-a-half decades of being an avid reader, I have never before belonged to a reading group. I had heard about them - I was even invited to one, about ten years ago - but they always seemed to me to read a selection of books that did not appeal to me at all.  

But two things came together at the start of this year. Firstly, I decided that it would be a good idea to expand the genres of books I read. I was experimenting with one or two different authors, and had even read a couple of literary fiction books which I thoroughly enjoyed. But I didn't really know how to go about finding suitable books, other than by trial and error. And I wanted to continue reading new books by my favourite authors, as well as re-reading some which I hadn't read for a decade or so. 

Then, looking at books at the St Helena's monthly book sale at the end of February, I was chatting to one of the helpers, and saw a book I had very much liked, though I hadn't expected to. 'Oh, yes,' she said, 'We liked that in the reading group, too.'  

'Reading group?' I queried.

I then learned that there was a local reading group which met once a month, and discussed the book they had agreed to read. And one of the aims of the group was to encourage people to read books they would not otherwise read. I would be very welcome, I was told, and the lady took my email address so she could send me the 2020 list. 

It was serendipity. Or perhaps synchronicity. Or, as I prefer to think of it, a gentle divine prompting to try something new.  

The list was a little daunting; I had never heard of any of the books, and some of them didn't sound very interesting. But I went to the Awesome Books site, where I found two of them inexpensively second-hand, and one in the bargain bin. I also found another book I had been looking for in the bargain bin, so I made my order immediately.  I found a couple of others on Amazon, in the Marketplace, and ordered those too. And I put the rest on my wishlist. Generous family members bought them for me for my birthday a couple of months later.

None of the books had arrived by the first meeting, early in March, so I had only read the 'sample' section of that month's book, downloaded to my Kindle. Yes, I could have bought the entire book for my Kindle, but I prefer to read real books if at all possible. I read a summary online, too, and some reviews. I eventually read the book - 'All We Shall Know' by Donal Ryan - in the summer. I can't say I particularly liked it, but it was well-written and interesting enough that I kept reading. 

By April, Cyprus was in lockdown. The group could not meet. I read the recommended book for April anyway, and was glad I did so, despite not being able to discuss it with anyone. I then started the recommended book for May, but found it a bit heavy-going and repetitive; I still dip into it occasionally - it's a kind of memoir rather than fiction - and if we ever do discuss it, I'll make the effort to finish it. But I didn't at all mind that the group was still unable to meet in May.

In June we were once again able to meet as a group, albeit in a larger room with chairs set over a metre apart from each other, and hand sanitiser on the way in. And since then we've met and discussed books every month other than August, when it would have been too hot and humid, and everyone needed a break. My favourite book so far from the reading group selection is 'The Beekeeper of Aleppo', which was this month's choice. 

I have loved being part of this small, friendly group, and have thoroughly enjoyed discussing the books we have read, some of which have been excellent. They try to introduce books from a variety of cultures and genres, some light-hearted, some heavier; some fairly short, some quite long, most of them highly reviewed. 

And so, when the list for 2021 was agreed, I went straight to the Awesome Books site, and ordered the first four, putting the others on my Amazon wishlist. 

I was delighted to see the books which arrived today, although it seems that my unread-books piles are growing rather than shrinking:

And this despite my reading three new-to-me books every month, in addition to re-reading six or seven favourites.

I suppose I could stop buying books at the St Helena's monthly sales... but there's something very reassuring about having a good number of books still to be read. I would hate to get to the end of the pile. 

Dehydrating in Cyprus

Earlier this year, when apricots were abundantly in season, my friend Sheila and I talked about how good it would be if we could make our own dried fruit, to preserve apricots - among other things - for the winter months. They would be considerably less expensive than dried apricots in the shops, and free from nasty preservatives. 

We have guaranteed sunshine for several months, so after some discussion Sheila rigged up a system with trays, and mosquito netting, and set some apricots to dry on their roof. These took several days, and had to be taken in overnight (when the humidity is extremely high) - but the results were very good indeed. However, the hassle was such that I never actually tried it myself... 

Sheila mentioned that her mother had a home dehydrator, but when I searched online, out of curiosity, most of them were very expensive - a couple of hundred pounds or more - and consumed extensive electricity as well, something which is very highly priced here in Cyprus.  I put it out of my mind. 

Fast forward a few months. Richard and I were in Sussex, and visited Lakeland. We saw a £50 dehydrator, with five trays. We were very tempted indeed - I had some birthday money, and we thought we had space in our luggage. But we managed to resist. But we kept talking about it.  And then after we returned to Cyprus, I learned that if I had a dehydrator, I could make coconut flour out of what remains when I made my own coconut milk... 

When I looked on the Lakeland website for something else (a coffee maker for Richard's birthday)... I discovered that their postage charge to Cyprus was only £7.50, no matter how large the parcel. And it came via courier. Grapes were in season by then, as well as plums, and I kept thinking about making my own dried fruit... so I made the order. A week later, a courier arrived with the parcels:

There weren't many instructions, but I reckoned I could experiment with different types of fruit, and see how long everything took. I had various random fruit, so a few days later I tried some apple pieces, and some banana slices:

I was making a fruit salad and has a few leftover grapes and pineapple slices, so I put those on another tray, along with a few rather squashy plums that were sitting in the fridge:

I realised that the coconut meal would slip through the gaps in the trays, so improvised by cutting one of my small muslin squares to an approximate fit:

Then I switched it on!  

It didn't get as hot as I had expected - so although the instructions told me to use oven gloves, I found that unnecessary when pausing to check how things were doing, or to move the trays around. Since it's a simple and relatively inexpensive gadget, it has just one heat setting, and the air isn't all that even so it's a good idea to move things around, and to remove fruit that's finished on any tray.

By the end of the first day, which included some necessary (and very enjoyable) testing, I had made the coconut flour, and removed the dried pineapple, bananas and apples. Friends were coming to dinner, so I put them out with our dessert, to try:

Richard liked the bananas best. They were squidgy rather than banana chips, and he said they reminded him of some delicious banana pieces he'd eaten when camping as a teenager. He asked if I could try cutting them lengthways next time. One of our visiting friends liked the apple best, the other liked the pineapple best. And I couldn't decide... 

A day or two later, after we'd eaten most of the fruit salad, Sheila and I were talking about 'fruit leather', something made from fruit puree in a dehydrator. I cut some baking paper to fit, pureed the now rather squashy fruit salad, and set it to dry: 

Plums were particularly good value at the local fruit stall - an extension of our favourite Froutaria - so I bought a large quantity, and cut three or four trays' worth up to dehydrate:

The fruit leather turned out very well after just a few hours. I had to leave it to cool, then cut it into wedges. They peeled nicely from the backing paper, and were rather tasty. 

My own personal favourite, at least so far, has been dried plums. Sweet plums work very well, and slightly to my surprise are nothing like prunes (which are, apparently, from a particular kind of plum). But pretty much everything has worked well. I've made some very good raisins from inexpensive grapes, and am regularly making banana pieces for Richard.

The electricity usage is about 1 unit for four hours, which isn't bad at all, and the taste is so vastly superior to anything we can buy ready-dried that it's worth it for that alone; not needing any sugar or other preservatives is a huge bonus.

Random ramblings from the first half of October

After my 9k walk by the Salt Lake a couple of weeks ago, I was shattered. My legs ached the following day and I wondered if it had been a crazy idea. However, a friend on Facebook commented that if I repeated the exercise every other day, it wouldn't be long before I felt twenty years younger.

It was a serendipitous comment (if there is such a thing). I knew that there was no way I would walk daily; on the other hand, I was aware that once a week would not really give me a chance to get used to going for brisk walks of more than a couple of kilometres. So I tentatively proposed that I might walk with Sheila on Tuesdays and Thursdays, as well as either Saturdays or Sundays - three times a week - although sometimes it would only be half the distance.

So we communicate by text and I've managed it, although it was over a week before I actually felt enthusiastic about going out in the half-light; my limbs continued feeling as if they were being used rather too much, and a blister kept recurring on my heel.

However, I was rewarded one morning with this rather gorgeous sunrise:

- and today (although I didn't walk this morning) I've found myself with a great deal more energy than I can remember having for some time. Of course, that could also be connected with the beginning of more autumnal weather, at last. The humidity has finally gone, at least mostly, and we had the first rain on Monday:

We then had the second rain, and the third rain.... some of it very heavy, and a slight leak in our roof over the stairs, as has happened in previous years.

Autumn is not all good news - mosquitoes have appeared in the evenings, out of aestivation, perhaps. And there was a tragedy in Larnaka during some heavy winds and rain earlier in the week, when a tall crane fell over, crushing a car.

On a lighter note, we very much enjoyed spending half a day with some friends we had not seen for years, on Wednesday last week; they were in Ayia Napa for a family wedding, and were able to come to Larnaka a couple of days later. It was so good to catch up; one of the benefits of Facebook is being back in touch with several long-lost friends.

Other friends who live here returned to Larnaka after spending the summer in their home country, and came to supper one evening; I was pleased to be able to share some of the produce of my new kitchen 'toy' (a dehydrator, which I'm sure I will write about at great length in future):

And finally... 

I made an order from a UK website, which said that - as a new feature - it was not able to deliver to PO Boxes abroad. So I thought that perhaps they were now using couriers, and entered our street address for delivery. 

And waited. 

The promised 7-10 days passed, and there was no sign of my parcels. I had made the effort to stay in the house for most of the day, although a courier would usually phone before coming. But there was no sign of anything. I started to wonder if the order might come in the regular mail - the problem being that the postman drives around on a motorbike and does not deliver parcels to houses.  We have an outside, US-style metal mailbox attached to our fence so I checked that to see if there was a note telling me to collect a parcel - but no.  Nothing. 

On Friday, as I try to do weekly, I walked down to our PO Box to check for mail.  At the last minute, I grabbed a cloth bag, although I wasn't really expecting anything. I keep one light one folded in my handbag anyway, but I had an odd feeling that I might need a second one.  Introverted Intuition, or perhaps a hint from God...?

I collected a few items from the mailbox, and there was a slip saying that there were three parcels waiting for me.  I wondered if they were for Richard's approaching birthday, so went inside.  As I handed the slip to the friendly postmistress, she said, 'Ah! I need to talk to you about your parcels!' 

Uh-oh. Was there some problem?

No... the parcels, she told me, had our street address on them. She shrugged and pulled a face, as if to say, 'How silly of the sender.' 

But, she assured me, there was no problem because she knew our PO Box number, so she put the slip in there. However she said that it was possible that the postman might also put a slip in our home mailbox - she didn't seem to think it likely, but wanted me to know that if he did, it was for the same parcels. 

It was, indeed, my order. Or, at least, three out of the four boxes.  Just as well that the fourth one hadn't yet arrived, since it was quite difficult to fit it into my two bags but I managed: 

One of the things we really like about Cyprus is that so many things are relationship-based. 

A large box arrived...

I was upstairs mopping the floors mid-morning today, when the doorbell rang.

I wasn't expecting anyone, I hurried down the stairs to open it, hoping I didn't look too hot and dishevelled! Perhaps, I thought, it was someone coming to borrow books. Or, as often happens, somebody looking for someone I'd never heard of.

It was a young man, with a clipboard. He asked if Richard lives here. I said that he does, and a slight look of resignation passed over the guy's face. 'I get box', he said with a sigh, and went down our outside staircase to the street.

I didn't think we were expecting any boxes, but waited at the door. When the young man appeared again, I could see why he checked first that it was the correct house, before bringing the parcel up. He struggled to balance it in his arms as he came up again, and it was evidently not light. He put it down in some relief just inside our front door, and I signed for it.

I glanced at the label, which was indeed addressed to Richard. From, as far as I could gather, somewhere in Italy.

At last!

It's the mock-up of the engine for King Malu, something which he and his sailing buddy have been waiting for for over a year now.

I didn't attempt to move it. It's really quite big:


Cleo, who has always loved cardboard boxes, investigated immediately and quickly realised that she couldn't get inside. But she likes sitting on top of things too. And, by Cleo standards, seems very relaxed and comfortable:


I'm not entirely sure how she'll feel when the box is taken to the boat... but I can't say it adds to the ambience of the room to have a large and rather ugly cardboard box there, even if Cleo has taken to it in a big way.