Travelling to the UK from Cyprus (continued)

I wrote in my last blog post about our complicated preparations for travelling to the UK this summer, with about ten days to do considerably more than is normally needed. Not that the pre-pandemic 'normal' applies any more. But as I said at the end of that post, it wasn’t until we boarded our mainly empty flight, late on a Thursday evening just over a month ago, that I finally started to allow myself to believe that we might see our family again. 

I'm very thankful to live in an age of modern technology. Whatsapp, Facebook and Zoom have enabled us to stay in touch, to share photos, to see each other’s faces and hear each other’s voices. My brother instituted a fortnightly (now monthly) family Zoom and it’s been one of the highlights of the pandemic, as far as I’m concerned. Just half an hour or so catching up with news and trivia has made all the difference to my feeling of being isolated from my relatives for so long. 

But it’s not the same as being together, and I hadn’t realised how much I had missed it until we were, at last, en route, and a little frisson of excitement started to rise in my chest. I was tired - our flight wasn’t until after my usual bedtime - and quite stressed; it had been a hectic week making all the arrangements necessary. I dozed once or twice, but can never really sleep on flights. 

We arrived on time, and found a taxi to take us to the nearby Travelodge. Previous experiences with waiting for the shuttle bus had persuaded us that it was worth paying a few extra pounds for the comfort and convenience of a taxi when arriving at 1.30am. 

Gatwick Travelodge is a familiar place, but we had never before booked two nights there. This was necessary for various reasons, including the lateness of our flight. We had decided to have a day to ourselves - to pick up our rental car about noon on the Friday, so we could take it easy after the substantial Travelodge ‘all you can eat’ breakfast.

Collecting the car was not stress-free. This is an example of British understatement. We had opted for a different rental company this time, as our usual preferred one was charging extortionate amounts. But we should have known that it wouldn’t be easy. We did eventually get the car (which was fine, thankfully) but we left feeling irritated, having had to leave a very large deposit with the company, who did not trust our excess insurance. It was not a good start to our break.

When we arrived at the nearby shopping centre where we had decided to eat lunch and make some necessary purchases, I felt oddly nervous on seeing so many people milling about, many of them not wearing masks, and with little observance of any social distancing. We had N95 masks, and while I prefer the more comfortable cloth ones, we wore the more protective ones as we had no wish to acquire the virus and potentially pass it on to our vulnerable relatives.

There are always a few things we buy in the UK, that we can’t easily find in Cyprus. Solid deodorant, for instance. It's quite pricey, but each one lasts over a year, and can be taken in hand luggage on a flight. I usually buy a selection of inexpensive birthday cards, too. Richard was looking for a new backpack, I was looking for some new sandals. And he always likes browsing shopping centres. 

I had got beyond exhaustion into a kind of dazed auto-pilot, but we found lunch, and looked in shops, and then returned to the Travelodge. We had talked about finding a nice restaurant for our evening meal, but were so tired we decided to eat there and were pleasantly surprised at the choice and the quality, even if we had to wait rather longer than we would have liked for the meal to arrive.

On Saturday we spent a very pleasant day with Richard's mother. Then to a nearby AirBnB, where the hostess had kindly agreed to take in our 'Day Two' PCR test packs, which had to be used on Sunday morning. That was a bit stressful - the instructions were not entirely clear, so we hoped we had taken suitable samples. Then, as we had not ordered courier-collection ones, we had to find a place to post them. We tracked down a priority mailbox, made a note of the tracking numbers, and photographed them going into the letter box - since it was Sunday, none of the Post Offices were open.*

We had lunch at a service station en route to our next destination, in the Midlands, which we reached at about 5pm. It was very good to see my father again after such a long time. 

We stayed at a nearby Travelodge, and then spent the whole of Monday with my father and stepmother. One of my brothers came for the day, with his wife and her granddaughter, and there was also a brief visit from my nephew and his wife. It was a lovely family day and I tried to appreciate every moment. 

On Tuesday we drove north again, and spent a couple of hours with my other brother and his wife. Then on to our last destination, the one I was looking forward to most: a whole week with our sons, daughter-in-law and grandchildren. Our younger son was staying with the family, having moved out of his last flat in the south. So we had all our descendants together, for the first time in eighteen months. 

Spending time with the grandchildren was wonderful - we went with them to nearby parks, read them books, played board games, and chatted in ways that just aren’t possible when video chatting. We saw places they had talked about, so we can imagine them for ourselves.

We relished every moment. Children change so rapidly during these early years, and they have such different, delightful personalities. 

Richard had been talking about sailing with them, on our video calls, and both children were excited at the idea. Since we have no idea when they might manage to get to Cyprus, he decided to rent a boat for an afternoon at one of the lakes in the Lake District. We had lunch there together, then three of us went to find hot drinks and some peace to read, while Richard took our older son and grandchildren out for a couple of hours. The boat was was apparently very like the boats in the book 'Swallows and Amazons', which the children have enjoyed listening to more than once. 

Since there wasn't room for all of us, we stayed for the week at a nearby AirBnB. It was a lovely place to stay, with a huge attic room, beautifully decorated with an ensuite bathroom, and some of the friendliest hosts we have met. 

Knowing how short the time was, I tried to make the most of every minute.  I knew I would find it difficult to leave, and would have liked to stay longer. But we had decided that I would return to Cyprus with Richard rather than rely on public transport to get to the airport, or to make further visits to other relatives. Twelve days in the UK felt like a huge adventure after such a lengthy period when travel was impossible.  It was never going to be long enough for me anyway. I think, in the circumstances, it was both the right time to go, and the right length of time to stay.  

To return to Cyprus from the UK, we didn't need to do any tests, as we're fully vaccinated. But we had to apply for and fill in the Cyprus Flight Pass, and download the EU Digital Covid Certificate. Richard had his computer with him, so did everything on that, as well as checking in at the airport. So with the boarding pass and the other two certificates, we each had three QR codes on our phones, to be scanned and validated before flying. 

On August 25th we drove to Newcastle Airport. Returning the rental car was, thankfully, straightforward, and the lady who dealt with us was a great deal more helpful and friendly than the guys at Gatwick. The airport is quite small, and many of the shops and eateries are still closed. but we found somewhere to eat lunch and bought sandwiches for the return flight. 

While it always takes me several days to feel myself again after a flight to Cyprus - and it was still hot and humid on our return - I felt refreshed and rejuvenated. And it's so lovely to have seen where our older son and his family are now living; last time we visited them, they were in Scotland. 

I have no idea when we will return to the UK, or see any of the family again, but it was a wonderful trip, appreciated all the more after the difficulties encountered in getting there. I'm hugely thankful to all who hosted us, and for every second we were able to spend with our loved ones. 

*PS It took three days for our PCR tests to reach the destination and another day to be processed. We did eventually receive notification that they were negative, but by that time we had visited four different households (six if we include the AirBnBs), and been out and about in the community.  We can see the point of tests before flying, but when we no longer needed to isolate, a 'Day Two' test, with results on about Day Six, doesn't seem to have any useful purpose. 

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. 

Out of Cyprus Summer 2018: The Panama Canal

When we learned that the Logos Hope was due to travel through the Panama Canal at the end of July, we organised our visit to see the family on dates that would take in this experience. Friends told us it wasn't all that interesting, but for those who like ships and navigation, it's a 'bucket list' kind of adventure.

So the ship arrived in Panama waters around lunch-time on July 30th. We could see dry land... but had to be at anchor for at least 24 hours. This was so that a local pilot could come on board, to check that the ship followed all the necessary safety requirements, and also to familiarise himself with the navigation systems. The pilot would be responsible for getting us through the canal the following day.

All was okay, although our original lunch-time slot on July 31st ended up starting nearer 5.00pm. We went outside about half an hour earlier and watched the anchor being drawn up, which took quite some time. The sky was quite cloudy as we set off, and caught our first view of the initial bridge over the canal:

Lots of people in the crew and staff went outside on the viewing decks, to watch our progress. Esther was in the sling Becky made last year, switching between Daniel and Becky, and I mostly looked after David. However he has many friends on the ship, and several other people kept an eye on him and explained what was going on at various points, as we approached the canal. He and I went up to deck nine - at the top, where we had a great view.

The ship seemed to move very slowly, and David was quite worried as we neared the bridge, thinking that we wouldn't fit underneath. I assured him that the pilot and the Logos Hope officials would have measured it carefully, but he was still concerned. It didn't help that there was a (joking!) announcement made, asking those on deck nine to duck as we went under...

After we were safely through the bridge, and the Logos Hope was still intact, David spotted that there were some 'different deckies':

They had come on board to help with the locks. There was a local TV crew at the side, filming the ship - so lots of the crew were waving their national flags - and the 'line-up' team were spotted waving, too. These are the Logos Hope staff who spend two or three months at each port in advance of the ship, preparing for the visit and finding out how they can best help the local people.

I was surprised by how green everywhere looked; but Panama is quite a wet country, and this is the rainy season. My only previous experience of locks was the small ones in Birmingham canals in the UK; these were similar on a larger scale. At the side little engines pulled the ship slowly along, guiding it into each lock:

This is a view of the other side - there really wasn't a lot of spare room!

By the time we were through the first lock, it was dinner time; and it started raining. So we went inside to eat, emerging half an hour later with raincoats. More people had come out to watch, so Becky put David on her shoulders to see another lock filling up:

It was beginning to get dark by this time, but this just about shows the second set of lock gates closing:

It really doesn't look like much water coming through in the middle, but the ship rose surprisingly quickly:

By the time we were in the final lock of the first stage, it was getting dark:

Richard had been tracking everything with his phone. The next stage, he t. old us, was a lake with no locks. It's apparently full of alligators (or perhaps crocodiles; I'm a bit vague about the difference) but since they can't get on board ships, and nobody was planning to swim, this wasn't too worrying. Had it still been light, I might have stayed on deck a bit longer, but it was almost pitch dark by this stage.

Richard had said he was going to stay up until the end, but since that was likely to be at least 1am, probably later, and I need my sleep, I went to bed leaving him to watch with a few other hardy people:

The next thing I knew, it was morning and we were in the port near Panama City. It was good to see dry land after six days at sea, although nobody could leave until the ship had cleared customs, and dealt with everybody's passports. Richard told me it was about 3am when he finally got to bed. The last locks were like the reverse of the first ones - going 'downhill' rather than up.

I knew the port was fairly close to the Panama Canal, but hadn't realised quite how close until I looked out in another direction and saw the bridge at the other end:

So Richard has now experienced something he's wanted to do for years, and can also now say that he's visited all the continents other than Antarctica - and he has no desire to go there! 

Not sailing into the sunset...

Although it's almost two years since Richard has been part-owner of the yacht King Malu, and a year since they started sea-trials, I have never been out sailing in her. This is because I don't do well in sunshine or heat... and they generally don't sail when there is no sunshine, because it tends to mean that the waves are choppy and the wind high. I did go on board in January, for a meal, and was quite prepared to be taken for a short sail... but it was too windy.

So when, about a week ago, Richard said they wondered if I would like to go for a sunset sail some time, I thought it sounded a good idea. Sunset is around 7.30pm, as it's totally dark by 8.00pm now, and the weather is mostly calm.

Then he said we would eat a meal on board - but I didn't have to provide any of it. So that was good. Then I learned that it wasn't going to be a sail at all, but a gentle motor for maybe ten minutes. Hmm. After much discussion, it was decided to meet at the marina at 6.00pm on Thursday. I'm glad I took a hat since it was still quite hot and sunny by then, and the 'bimini' (sunshade) no use at all since the sun was low enough to avoid it.

So, after a slight hiatus when the boat was blown into the one next-door, we set off. The sea was rather choppy and it worried me how much the boat seemed to be rocking, but Richard said it was fine. I was more disturbed by the sun on the back of my head than I was by the waves. And by around 7.00 was more than ready to stop and have something to eat - which was roast chicken from the 'New York' take-away and some excellent salad.

Tim had made some chocolate brownies:


After we'd eaten them, Erika and Lauren sat with their feet up:


I suddenly noticed that the sun was indeed starting to set, so thought I'd better take a photo since that was, after all, what we had come to see:


The camera is automatic, so it wasn't actually as dark as it looked in that picture. Tim P (the main owner of the boat) decided it was time to go back so he went to the front of it:


And Richard took the wheel:


I managed to catch another picture of the sun just before it disappeared over the horizon, although it wasn't fully dark for another fifteen minutes or so:


So I still haven't been sailing on King Malu. Going on board a couple of times a year seems reasonable enough, though... but I preferred it in January when it was decidedly less hot.

The day that King Malu did not, after all, go in the cradle...

I must preface this post by stating that Cyprus is a wonderful place. The people are great, and in many ways it's an ideal place to live. Even this winter has been remarkably mild, at least so far.

But one has to learn that in some things Cyprus simply doesn't operate like mainland Europe. People are not good with times, for instance. We - and they - joke that two o'clock 'Cyprus time' is really anything from two thirty onwards. If someone wants us to arrive somewhere between ten and eleven, they might say 'Oh, about ten o'clock Cyprus time'.

King Malu, the boat in which Richard was given a share, and on which he has been working extremely hard for the past few weeks, was looking very smart, ready for being moved into the water on January 13th. Tomorrow, in fact. There's still plenty of work to do inside, so she probably won't actually be sailed until March or even April, but the underneath is all now painted and sealed, and ready for launch.


Other than the very bottom - the tiny strip of the bit sticking out underneath (which I am reliably informed is the keel) that is actually touching the ground. While the boat is still standing with those props, it can't be painted. So Richard spoke to the people who operate the crane that moves the boats in and out of the water. No problem, they said. Today - Tuesday - they would bring the crane when they had finished their other jobs for the day, and lift King Malu into the cradle. Then Richard and Tim could do the necessary sanding, priming, painting and anti-fouling at two-hour intervals in the evening and/or early Wednesday morning, and they'd move her into the water around 9am (Cyprus time) tomorrow. It would cost more, of course, but seemed worth doing.

Richard thought the move into the cradle would be around 5pm. Then, when he popped down to the marina this morning, they said 2pm. So after lunch, since the day was overcast, I accompanied him down to the marina. We wandered around for a while and learned that the crane-moving people weren't going to be around until 2.30. We weren't surprised.. so we went for a walk to find out why my phone was refusing to send texts. We were assisted by a very helpful man at the MTN shop who fixed the problem in about five seconds, and got back to the marina around 2.30. No sign of the crane-moving people, so we sat down for a while.

Around 2.45, we saw the crane start to move. Was it coming our way? Apparently not, since it moved instead towards the place where boats go in and out of the water. Perhaps another job had come up. Richard went to ask - no, apparently they needed to put some extra bars in the crane, and it was then coming to King Malu.

About twenty minutes later, the crane started on its way again. It stopped temporarily when a car was in the way, and for a bit longer to fill up with diesel. But at last we could see it coming down the little aisle where King Malu has been sitting for the past eight years. Richard started filming with the video camera.


It wasn't long before the crane was in position to turn around, and then move slowly in alongside the boat. So we moved to the back of King Malu, to photograph and shoot its careful progress:


The crane moved very carefully - which is a good thing, of course. It got to about half way. And then it stopped.


The men got out, and started gesturing, and walking around. We could see it was a very tight fit to get it in place. The boat on one side is not centrally placed in its parking slot, and the crane was perhaps an inch away:


On the other side is a large lamppost, which may even have been put there in the past eight years, since King Malu arrived:


Could the crane be angled carefully? No, they had already tried that. The man in charge of the crane said he really didn't care about the lamppost. That could be knocked down. But the base of it is made of concrete, and if the wheels of the crane went over that, the whole thing would tilt to the side and probably damage the boat on the other side.

Here's the video Richard made of events to date, with annotations:



It's a good thing they care so much about the boats. But it meant that there was no way that King Malu could go in the cradle tonight. The crane operator said that he would get in contact with the boat next door, since they would have to move it further away, and so it can't be done until tomorrow.

So the plan is now that, around 10am (Cyprus time) they will first move the nearby boat a few inches further away, then they'll put King Malu in the cradle. Richard and Tim can then prime and anti-foul the base (apparently the epoxy layer isn't so vital) with a couple of hours gap between, and she can then be put in the water at some point in the afternoon.

Perhaps.

King Malu

Yesterday afternoon, on the way back from visiting friends, Richard remembered that he had left something lying around on or near King Malu.

Who is King Malu?

A good question.

You might be a little confused if I were to tell you that King Malu is a 'she'. And she is a very important part of Richard's life right now. When he's not at work, he spends a great deal of time with her.

He wrote about her on his sailing blog a couple of weeks ago - yes, she is a boat. A small yacht, bought by his sailing friend, who then generously donated a part of her to Richard.

She has sailed around the world, although it's unlikely that she will do so again. She hasn't even been in the water for some years, and needs a good amount of repair and maintenance. She's currently sitting on the shore at Larnaka Marina, along with many other boats. They hope to have her in the water by the end of the year, and ready to sail by the start of the season next March or April. So Saturdays and public holidays and other odd hours are being spent working on her.

I took a photo, with Richard in it, to give an idea of King Malu's size:


She's significantly bigger than Galini, the Wayfarer dinghy that Richard owns and has been sailing for the past couple of years:


On the other hand, she is considerably smaller than the MV Doulos, the ship where Daniel is still working:



Co-incidentally, the Doulos is also in dry-dock, for several weeks. As she was in that picture, which I took when we visited her in Singapore two years ago.

Back to King Malu: this photo shows how close she is to the water in Larnaka marina:


Then I even climbed up the ladder to see the top. I don't like ladders or heights, and I didn't go inside to see the cabins, but Richard opened the hatch so I could see a little. He hopes that I might go out with them some day, since there will be a good sun-shade on the top, and the cabins for even more sun protection. I'm not particularly keen on boats, but maybe one day...

A non-typical Saturday on a hot Cyprus day...

Yesterday was what might be called an interesting day. One that I hope will not be repeated any time soon. I didn't get to bed until about 11.45pm, which is long past my usual bedtime. When I got up this morning, the house was not as tidy as I would have liked it to be...

Here are some clues to what happened yesterday:


Yes, that's our rather rickety old card table. Our mah-jong set is there, near the back. On top is a plastic box, supposedly waterproof. There's a roll of kitchen towel, too. And several other apparently random bits and pieces. To see a little closer:


Yes, that's the outer protective casing of a phone. A multi-tool thing. Some sunblock lip gel. Some matches in a soggy box.


.. and here is an old tea-towel, with various bits of metal and some mini drill bits.

Going into the kitchen, you would see this:


Yes, that's the inner part of a phone, standing on end. Another part of the phone (I think...) in a glass of water.

Then there's a radio, sitting in one of my mixing bowls:


.. while on the draining board sits an empty slow-cooker (crockpot) inside pot:


Back to the living room, there's a mysterious looking black plastic rolled up item on the sofa, with a ruler behind it, and a small white towel draped neatly over the arm:


On the coffee table, are three children's books, a long piece of lego, and a toy from McDonalds left behind by one of our visitors:


In my study, there were several lego models lying around the floor, but I tidied those away before I thought of taking photos, and although I considered getting them out again, I decided it wasn't really worth the effort.

Oh, and if you happen to look outside our kitchen, to the utility balcony, you would see, in addition to regular items such as a double sheet, an empty picnic cool-bag, and - perhaps most mysterious of all - a very small pair of pink panties:


I'm tempted to stop right there, and see if anyone can guess what happened yesterday.

But I won't.

Short story: Richard took three people sailing. I spent part of the morning preparing an evening meal for ten, including the four who were sailing. Five of the other people expected to dinner spent the afternoon with me. After the meal, when most of our guests had gone home, four of us played a few games of mah-jong (hence the late night).

That explains the crockpot, the card table and the mah-jong. And, given that four of the people who spent the afternoon with me were children, it also explains the lego and the children's books.

Those were the expected parts of the day.

It's said, sometimes, that accidents come in threes.

About 5pm, our youngest guest (aged 11 months) managed to spill a half-empty glass of water on the floor. A minor irritation at most.

In fact, we barely noticed the spilt water, because a couple of minutes earlier, her just-four-year-old sister had an accident of the type that small children occasionally do (though it's very rare for this particular little girl). That resulted in a different kind of liquid on the study floor, where she was just going out in an attempt - perhaps - to get to the loo. The children had just watched 'Pollyanna' on DVD, so her mother and I reminded ourselves that there was much to be thankful for: we were glad, for instance, that she was not sitting on the sofa at the time, and that we don't have carpets.

Thus the towel (since a shower was required) and the little pink panties on the line. I managed to find a very old pair of one of my son's underpants which, with the aid of a safety pin, sufficed for a few hours.

As the children's mother was mopping up the mess, the phone rang. It was Richard, letting me know that they were going to be later than expected... because his boat had capsized. For the first time ever. It was quite windy yesterday, but no worse than the week before. He didn't want to tell me about it on the phone... but assured me that everyone was fine, and had been rescued.

And rather than give the details here, anyone who wants to know exactly what happened can read Richard's official Mayday report, which he posted on his Wayfarer blog.

In a nutshell: the 10-year-old child he took with him was brilliant. He remembered all his training, didn't panic, and behaved impeccably. His father was fine, but tired, and having problems with his blood sugar. And the father's friend was - well, let's just say he was not fine. He didn't listen to instructions, he kept asking where he was supposed to go when told to change sides of the boat (as if there are a lot of places one CAN go in a smallish boat with four people on it!) and when the boat started to tip, he not only hadn't moved when he was supposed to, but didn't think to throw himself to the other side to stop it going over.

Everyone was rescued pretty quickly. The life-jackets (technically buoyancy aids) did their job, the water in Cyprus in August is warm enough that nobody was going to suffer hypothermia, and the masthead buoyancy thing (that black plastic object, which is explained on Richard's blog post) pushed the boat to horizontal rather than totally upside down in the water.

The boat was recovered, as were the items tied down in it including the blue cool-box which had contained Richard's lunch, and the yellow 'dry box' which unfortunately was not as dry as it should have been. Possibly the lid was not on firmly enough. Whatever the reason, Richard's phone has clearly suffered and he has no idea if it will live again. He's currently using my phone with his sim card (which is still working).

Unfortunately, the camera Richard takes with him, and its waterproof case, had not been tied to the boat because of a previous incident earlier in the day. And the two adults had, for some reason, taken wallets with them but had not put them in the dry box, so they too are missing, along with their car keys. And shoes, which they had taken off.

There is some damage to the boat, which we hope is minor, and apparently some items have been salvaged by both the Larnaka and Dhekelia sailing clubs. So Richard and one of his regular sailing friends have gone out to see what they can find, and discover exactly what damage the boat has sustained.

The most important thing is that everyone is unhurt.

But I hope to return to my usual unexciting Saturdays in future!

Summer in Cyprus - time whizzes by

Ten days since I last posted. I had to check my Google calendar to remember what we've been doing - and it's not much. Summer is undoubtedly here. My jeans and trainers have gone away, and I'm in shorts, a tee-shirt and flip-flops. The air conditioning is running in my study at the moment, as the computer is on and computers don't like temperatures over 30C.

There don't seem to be any more mosquitoes about - they don't like hot weather. Instead, there are cockroaches. Ugh. Since we're up a flight of steps, we only get flying ones that manage to get in the house, and they're the ones about to die anyway, or so rumour has it. The last couple of mornings I've come down and both times discovered two roaches, lying on their backs, giving a last wiggle. The yogurt pot technique works well, and has even been adopted by a couple of friends.

So.. a summary of the past ten days.

Monday 1st June: last proper meeting of the Larnaka Christian Writing Group before the Autumn. A half-hour walk to get there, but one of the members kindly offered me a ride home. I accepted gratefully since the weather seemed to have turned into summer overnight.

Tuesday 2nd June: I helped out at Tots, as usual - the local church-run mother-and-toddler group. I mainly work in the kitchen, plus clearing up at the end, but also chat to some of the mums when I have a free moment. I enjoy it, but the hall is warm. It closes in July and August, which is just as well. A ten-minute walk to get there on a good day, but it took me more like fifteen in the hotter weather. I was offered a lift home which I gratefully accepted.

Wednesday 3rd June: I change the sheets, wash sheets/pillowcases and towels, and clean the bedrooms on Wednesdays. And we have the bookkeeper at Richard's office to lunch. So cleaning and lunch preparation (even though it's just bread and cold things) takes most of the morning, now it's hotter.

Mid-afternoon, Richard took the older son of some friends sailing as a birthday treat, and I spent the afternoon with the rest of the family. Then we stayed to dinner, and a game of Carcassone. Very enjoyable, but I was shattered by the end of the day.

Thursday 4th June: my last morning until the Autumn for looking after a home educated boy who lives in Nicosia, while his mother attends a meeting in Larnaka. Not that I do very much - he brings some work, and some books, so I just offer space, chat a bit, and make him a drink. But it does mean I have to be up, dressed and breakfasted before 8am.

Friday 5th June: In the morning, we did a biggish shop at Metro supermarket, and I did some ironing. In the evening, some other local friends came for a meal, with their visiting young adult nephew. We had a good evening, and played a round of Tabloid Teasers, which they hadn't played before.

Saturday 6th June: Richard went sailing with two youngsters. I washed and hung out the throw on my study sofa, as it was looking pretty grubby. I went to the Froutaria and bought some more fruit and veg, and made us three more litres of lemonade (lemon squash) since we were running low. In the evening, Richard and I watched a DVD.

Sunday 7th June (Greek/Eastern Pentecost): Richard went sailing with some people whom he met at a gathering of Larnaka home educators. I decided I would go to the service at the new building leased by the Larnaka Community Church congregation. It's a little further away than the Greek Evangelical Church, where services used to be held, but I got there, walking, in fifteen minutes, which wasn't too bad in the heat.

Can't say I enjoyed it, other than the part where the nine-month-old baby of some friends wanted me to hold her for about twenty minutes. It was too hot (air conditioning is not yet installed) and sticky (chairs still have plastic covers, since there's work being done on the ceiling still). There were far too many people for me to feel comfortable, including, I suspect, quite a few visitors. The PA system howled around three or four times, which was very painful, and the whole atmosphere was too emotional for my liking. Still, it was interesting to see the new building, converted from a gym in the past few months, and to catch up with one or two people I had not seen for a while.

Monday 8th June (Kataklysmos): this is a major public holiday in Cyprus, celebrating not just Pentecost but legends to do with Noah's flood, since Larnaka was, reputedly, founded by one of Noah's grandsons. Booths selling local sweets and cheap toys (etc) are set up along the sea-front all week, and it seems that half the island is present. That doesn't include me. I went once, years ago. Never again.

Richard, however, went sailing once again, for the annual Regatta. Yes, that's three days in a row. It's a good thing I like my own space, and am very happy being at home with just the cats for company. I didn't do anything much - I did some cleaning and laundry, reviewed a couple of books I had finished reading on my book blog, did some more reading, wrote some email, spent time on Facebook and forums, and so on.

Tuesday 9th June: Tots in the morning, again. Even hotter than last week, so I was very glad of a lift home with some friends, who came in for a drink of lemonade and a chat for an hour or so.

Wednesday 10th June: I went out to the Froutaria shortly after 7.30am and noticed that there were some apricots on special offer. They will probably get cheaper still as summer progresses, but I decided that if I was going to make apricot jam it should be now, rather than when the weather is even hotter. So I bought a couple of kilograms of apricots, among other things, and made double quantities of my jam recipe, which produced about eight jars. I think we now have enough jam to last the next year or so, which is good.

I also made another jar of lemon curd although it looks as though lemons won't be available for much longer. They're basically a winter/spring fruit.

I didn't finish all that until midday, which gave me an hour to do my sheet-changing/laundry/bedroom cleaning, plus taking a shower, and organising cold lunch for Richard and the bookkeeper. I banked on them not arriving until at least 1.15, which is just as well as I wasn't ready until then.

This morning: I finally got around to ironing and folding the sheets, pillowcases and duvet covers from the guest flat, and also defrosted the little freezer in there as it was getting iced up, and didn't have anything in it anyway.

So.

Interesting.

I had felt as if I'd done almost nothing in the past ten days, but checking the calendar and completed task-list, it's more than I thought. The problem is that when I've been busy in the mornings, I don't seem to be able to do anything constructive in the afternoons - well, other than filling water bottles and watering the plants, when the mains water is on (every other day), and catching up with email, and Facebook, and forums. And chatting, from time to time, with Dan or Tim online. And of course sorting out our evening meals, but there are so many individual portions of leftover food in the freezer that I haven't been doing a lot of actual cooking.

Tomorrow evening we'll be going to a local independent house group, Saturday Richard will probably sail again, Sunday we're invited out to lunch with yet more friends, Monday I'm out for lunch again, this time with the Larnaka Christian Writing group. Oh, and I need to ensure the guest flat is clean, and make up beds, and buy a few groceries for it since our next visitors are arriving early on Tuesday morning.

Saturday sailing in Cyprus

I don't go sailing. Not that I have anything against boats - I'm quite happy to be on a ferry, and more than happy to visit Daniel on the MV Doulos. But I don't do at all well in sunshine. Just half an hour outside in the summer without shade would give me a migraine. On Richard's boat, there is no shade at all.

So, most Saturdays he goes out sailing with other people, which he loves to do, and I enjoy a peaceful day at home on my own.

But last Saturday, he agreed to take a family who live nearby who have become good friends in recent months. There are five children, one of whom is only eight months old, and thus too young to be taken on a dinghy. So since Richard and Neil, another sailing friend, hoped to take all the rest of the family out at the same time (two adults and two children in each boat) I agreed to go to the sailing club with them, and look after the baby. She's a lovely little girl who knows me quite well so I didn't anticipate any problems.

The day was warm, but not unpleasantly hot. The conditions were perfect for teaching beginners, with calm sea and very light winds. Between them, Richard and Neil managed to find sufficient life jackets (technically buoyancy aids) for everyone, including three-year-old Katie.

Even better, Neil rigged up an ingenious shade on the beach using the cover of his boat, an old broken trolley, some rope and some tyres.

Here are the first group getting into Neil's boat:

.. and here are the second group, getting into Richard's. You can see how calm the sea was!

They sailed in formation out into the bay:

... and then, after about forty-five minutes, back again.

Helen, I'm happy to say, was absolutely fine with me. I did have to stop her from eating small stones, but she was fairly amenable, and didn't seem to mind being offered large stones, or keys, or even a toy instead.

They went out several more times, in various combinations. The older children enjoyed the sailing more than the younger ones, and the parents both enjoyed it too! Here they are, towards the end of the day, bringing Neil's boat in:


Unfortunately for me, Neil and his family had to leave before Richard had finished his last trip. So they had to dismantle the shade cover in order to put their boat away, and I ended up with about 45 minutes in the sun. It wasn't too hot; it was about 3pm by then and there was quite a breeze. But the sun was too much for me. By the time we got home I felt utterly exhausted, and had a migraine Sunday morning. Still, Richard knows now to leave me in peace when I feel that way. After a few hours by myself I was able to sort out a few things for the guest flat and go to the airport with him to meet our next guests who arrived around 9.30pm last night.

Richard also wrote about this day out, with more photos of the actual sailing and also a map showing exactly the tracks of the boats in and out of the bay.