Losing another cat

We've been married for over forty years, and in that time we have adopted and loved ten different cats. Two of them were, sadly, very short-lived, and four of them disappeared, leaving no trace.  Two died of old age (one at 15, one at over 18).  And we're still feeling shocked and sad after losing the ninth.

Alex was the largest of his litter, born early April 2014. He and his two sisters lived with their mother and our friends until they were three months old. Our son, who lived in a flat about a kilometre away adopted Lady Jane, and we adopted the other two: Alexander the Great and Joan of Arc. We didn't use their full names, of course, unless they were in trouble... 

We had both Cleo, our longest-lived cat, and her daughter Sophia at the time. It took a while for Alex and Joan to be accepted, and they were never close friends with our older cats. But gradually they learned to live alongside each other. I wrote a long post about our newly adopted kittens in September 2014, with some photos. 

Then, just a couple of months after that post, Sophia disappeared. I wrote a post about that, too. And Joan of Arc vanished just before Christmas 2015. She and Alex had only been going outside for six months and mostly played together when, one evening, he returned and she didn't. We thought at first that they must have caught a feline bug as he wasn't well for a few days afterwards, but then realised his tail was injured. He was also terrified when he heard cars, for a while. So perhaps she was hit by a car and he just escaped. We'll never know. 

In the summer of 2016 we adopted Lady Jane, when our son moved back to the UK. And in January 2017, Cleo died after a very brief period of being obviously unwell. She had seemed frail for a while, but had been eating and washing normally until just a week or so before she died, aged around eighteen and a half. We were sad but not devastated, although Cleo's passing felt like the end of an era. She had been with us for almost all our time in Cyprus. 

So then we just had Alex and Jane. They were never as close as Alex and Joan had been, but still good companions. 

Jane remained very kitten-like, scampering about the house, jumping on my shoulder, leaping onto bookcases, chasing bits of string or other 'toys' she discovered around the house. Alex slowed down somewhat, however. Of all our cats, he's the one who had the most medical issues. I think we took him to the vet more than all the others put together. 

It started with his tail injury (well, other than having him neutered at a young age).  Then he had a couple of strange incidents, where he seemed to be short of breath, and crying as if he were very scared. The vet examined him thoroughly each time but couldn't find anything wrong - and, by the time we got him to the vet, he was often getting over whatever the problem was, anyway. 

Alex used to catch birds sometimes, on the roof, so it's not surprising that we had to buy worming tablets for him regularly. We got to know the symptoms (a lot of coughing and retching) so we could just buy tablets rather than taking him to the vet and paying an extra fee for doing so. And we were increasingly concerned that he would drink a lot of water, far more than is normal for a cat. 

One of our visitors was a vet, and she said it was likely he had kidney problems. But she said that it would be uncomfortable for him (and expensive for us) to have tests to confirm this - and that medication, if available in Cyprus (which was doubtful) wouldn't significantly improve or prolong his life. She said he was obviously an active, much loved and contented cat, but we should be aware that the time would probably come when he would have to be put to sleep by the vet. She said we would know when that time was: it could be within a year or two, it could be longer. 

In the event, he died at home, unexpectedly on 19th March this year. He had another crying and breathless episode which lasted a bit longer than usual, then he seemed to recover. Then he had a kind of fit, and within a few minutes, was gone.  It was just a few weeks before his 10th birthday.

I don't think we've ever been so sad and shocked at losing a cat. Alex was more of a companion than a pet - he followed us around (particularly Richard) and kept us in line: he was quite demanding sometimes, but always very loving. 

In retrospect we wonder if there was a problem with his heart, as well as his kidneys. He had slowed down so much, more so than other cats of his age. Admittedly Jane is unusually active and lively, but he had started plodding rather than running, and was less and less inclined to jump more than a short distance. 

Alex had a good life, even if it was cut short. And we're both thankful that we didn't have to make that final decision for him. But still, it has been very difficult to get used to him being gone. Jane is now an 'only' cat: even if she would permit another feline inhabitant of the house, we're not planning on having any more cats. 

I started writing this post a day or two afterwards, but I couldn't bring myself to finish it until now. 

Rest in peace, Alexander the Great. 

Another missing cat in November :-(

Over sixteen years ago we acquired Cleo, who was a small and feisty kitten. Evidently she was a little older than we thought, because six months later - at the end of February 1999 - she gave birth to three kittens.

One of them only lived about six weeks; he became ill and the vet could not help. We were so upset at losing him that we decided to keep the other two.

Sophia was the intelligent one - hence her name - who quickly learned our schedules and bossed us all around. Jemima wasn't quite so bright, and she waddled like a 'puddleduck'. Hence her name.

Our feline family was completed, for a while, nearly two years later when Tessie walked into our house and our lives.

Not that Cleo's family never entirely accepted her.

In November of 2007, Jemima vanished. She was a quiet cat who avoided other people but liked to sleep outdoors at night. One neighbour said that, sometimes, nice cats were stolen to be sold. It seemed a strange theory, but better than any alternative. I was her special human and I missed her enormously; but by that stage, Daniel had left home. He was Sophia's special human, and she gradually transferred her affections to me.

Tim was Tessie's special person; he was looking after the house for us in November last year, when Tessie vanished in a similar manner. One day she was around, as usual; the next she was not. He hunted around the neighbourhood but there was no sign. She was thirteen at the time; not old, but she'd had a few strange episodes of hiding away, with unknown sickness. We never did find her.

So we were down to two increasingly elderly cats. Which is why, when we had the opportunity to adopt two kittens in the summer, we did so.

Thankfully the older cats accepted them well.

Cleo developed arthritis over the past year, and one of her legs became swollen. Around May or June she turned sixteen, which is equivalent to 96 in human years. She could no longer jump much, but she was still eating and washing happily, and purring as she snuggled into us at night.

Here she is, getting comfortable on a cushion about a month ago:

Sophia developed a slight lump on her right eyelid, and we were concerned enough that a visiting friend who has worked as a veterinary nurse took a look; he said it was a hematoma, probably caused by high blood pressure. As it caused her no distress he recommended ignoring it, unless it grew big enough to obstruct her vision.

It actually got smaller.. here she is, earlier this week, looking regal on the beanbag:

We were - at least in theory - prepared for the fact that Cleo might one day wander out of the house, and find a peaceful secluded spot, and fade away. It's what happened to our first cat, Toby, back in 1992. 

What we did not expect was that Sophia would vanish. Out of the blue, two days ago. Just like Jemima and Tessie did, except that it was in broad daylight. Sophia, who was an extremely vocal cat, would have let the entire neighbourhood know if she had got shut in somewhere, or if anybody tried to catnap her. 

It took me a couple of hours to notice that she'd gone out and not come in again; she used to ask to go in and out of my study door rather than using the cat flap, but she would often sleep outside in the sunshine. I was surprised when I went to water plants, and she did not appear to tell me off for wasting water. But I thought that perhaps she had come back into the house via the cat flap after all, and that I would find her inside somewhere, peacefully asleep.

I could not locate her anywhere.

I walked around the neighbourhood, afraid that she might have been run over, but there was no sign. I called for her, and listened.. but there was no distinctive Sophia mew. 

I became increasingly concerned.. and she did not come back. 

A friend mentioned that he had seen her scavenging in a dustbin a few days earlier; perhaps, he theorised, she ate something that's toxic for cats. I then started to wonder if her blood pressure was getting higher and she suffered a stroke. I tried to recall whether she had been behaving differently in recent weeks, and all I could think of was that she had been more peaceable, less bossy. 

Two days later there is still no sign - or sound - of Sophia, and I've given up searching. If by chance she got taken somewhere else, perhaps in the back of a truck, then it's just possible she might find her way home. But she was an old cat - she would have turned 16 in a few months. I had hoped she might have lived a few years longer as she seemed to be in such good health - but apparently not. 

I miss her, so much. 

It never occurred to me that Cleo would be the last remaining of our original four.

Autumn slowly tiptoes its way into Cyprus...

This blog has been rather neglected, of late. It's not that we've been ultra-busy, nor have we done a lot of entertaining. It's just that, as the last weeks of summer slowly ease their way out of Cyprus, a kind of lethargy lingers in the air. Time marches on, but I'm not entirely sure where it's vanished to.

I re-started going for early morning walks with my friend Sheila, at the beginning of September. I thought it would still be too hot, but it wasn't too bad, and I do like being out in the early morning, seeing the first light of day:

We don't usually get any rain until nearly the end of September, but it was a rather wetter month than normal. I think we counted four rain showers through the month, one of which was preceded by dramatic grey clouds, and lasted for at least fifteen minutes along with some lightning and thunder that were just a little too close for comfort:

After the rain, there was some water in the Salt Lake, and some significant puddles nearby, one of which had attracted some unusual birds; we have no idea what they are:

Meanwhile, the kittens continue to settle in well, and grow fast; here they are looking sweet and angelic, belying their usual mischief and energy:

Alexander's life is so exciting - from his perspective - that we decided to help him start a blog, to record his escapades in his own words. So to speak. If you're interested, it's called Alexander the Great. 

Meanwhile Sophia, now fifteen-and-a-half, remains in good health although she prefers a slightly softer place to sleep:

Cleo is sixteen - really quite old for a cat - and somewhat arthritic. One of her front legs has been swollen for a while, too, though it goes up and down. But she gets out and about, and purrs when she's on our laps (or snuggling into my neck at night...) so we're not over-worried. She also likes relaxing on cushions: 

Two thousand miles away our grandson continues to grow and flourish; he's four months old today. We are so thankful for Skype which enables us to keep in touch, letting him see our faces and hear our voices:

David now has his own passport - which, astoundingly, arrived less than a week after the application documents were posted - so we very much hope he (and, of course, his parents...) will be able to come and stay here in a couple of months. 

Now that October is here, the humidity has mostly gone, and the daytime temperatures aren't hitting 30C any more, at least in the shade. We've stopped using air conditioning and are just reliant on fans... although a tee-shirt and shorts are still our usual attire. It's likely to be another month before I venture back into jeans. 

Introducing our Cyprus kittens

I mentioned in passing, in my last post, that we have two new kittens.

This is not something we planned, precisely. Until six years ago, we had four cats, and that was plenty. Then Jemima vanished one night - we never found out what happened to her - so we were down to three. Daniel had left home so we only had three humans; Daniel was Sophia's human and I was Jemima's, so in the absence of both, Sophia adopted me. Quite an undertaking as she is a highly extraverted, vocal and bossy cat.

Then nearly a year ago, when Richard and I were in the UK, Tessie disappeared. Tim was her human (although there had been some competition from the others while we were away) - and since Richard (Cleo's human) is often out or away, Cleo adopted Tim too.

But Cleo is now sixteen. She's getting thinner, and arthritic, and one of her legs is a bit swollen. Her coat is in good condition and she seems in good health overall - but cats don't often live more than about sixteen or seventeen years. Some make it to twenty, and we hope ours do - but she's definitely getting elderly. Sophia, Cleo's daughter, will be sixteen at the end of next February. She is still quite active, her fur is thick, and she isn't getting thin.. but she does sleep more than she used to (though not at 5.00am, unfortunately).

We had said, idly, for the past couple of years that it would make sense to introduce a couple of kittens into the house while we still have our older cats, to have some overlap. But Cleo and her daughters never accepted Tessie: they wouldn't eat together, they hissed and spat at each other, and Cleo was actually quite afraid of Tessie at times. Tessie, too, saw herself as defender of the house: if any other cat dared to come on our property, or any part of the road she considered hers, she would chase it away. Sometimes quite viciously. The other cats in our neighbourhood were terrified of her - and yet she was a friendly, fluffy cat who liked people very much.

I knew there was no way we could bring kittens here with Tessie around. And I didn't really want the hassle of kittens again, in any case.

Then our friends' second cat Conny gave birth to three kittens early in April this year. I didn't take a whole lot of notice of them at first, but they did become rather cute, as kittens do. There was this grey female one, who, at about five or six weeks old, took a strong liking to Tim:

Then there was a calico female and a brown and white male, who tended to be a lot livelier, watched here by their mother: 

(For anyone who thinks, as I did until recently, that 'calico' is the American word for 'tortoiseshell' - that's not actually the case. Tortoiseshell cats are mixed brown/black and orange, generally, while calico cats have more distinct patches of orange and black, plus large amounts of white).

When we went to see our friends, the three kittens would play for a while, then curl up in a bundle to sleep: 

Our friends did not want to keep them. Richard was very keen on adopting the two girl cats, so we said 'maybe', and 'if our two older cats don't mind'. I thought they probably would mind, very much, so didn't really see it happening. The boy cat was definitely going to be adopted by another friend. 

The kittens were given names, by our friends' 8-year-old daughter, Katie. The boy cat was called Alexander the Great, because he was so big and strong. The calico cat was Joan of Arc, because she was so brave. We didn't think the names would stick, but somehow they did.

And then there was 'the grey one'. Katie wanted her to be called Grandma, 'because she's grey and beautiful'. Someone else in the family wanted her to be called Alfie. I suggested, rather frivolously, that if the other two were named after famous people from history, perhaps she could be Lady Jane Grey.  And for some reason, that name stuck too.  I thought that, if we DID adopt the two female kittens, Joan and Jane made a nice pairing. 

We continued to watch them grow up. Here they are exploring our friends' dolls' house 

Then they would drop to sleep, curled up again... although by early June it was getting a bit too warm so they spread out a bit more:

I did notice at this stage that Lady Jane Grey was something of a loner, often sitting and watching while her two more boisterous siblings chased each other around. I made what was, perhaps, a foolish comment: that Alexander was really not suited to being an 'only cat'. And it was about this time that Alexander's future family found and adopted a feral kitten and said they really didn't want him after all. 

Then we had the news that our grandson had arrived. All other concerns seemed minor. Richard and I flew out to the UK when David was just a couple of weeks old and for the next two months I didn't think much about Cyprus at all.

However, Richard returned a month before I did. And within a few days, he said that he thought the kittens, almost four months old now, were ready to be adopted. 

Not Jane and Joan, as I had thought, but Alexander and Joan.

I didn't mind being away from home while he introduced them to the older cats and had a few sleepless nights of mewing kitties who assumed his toes were cat toys. But Cleo and Sophia accepted them - dubiously, but with a much better grace than they ever accepted Tessie.

Tim, meanwhile, found an apartment about five minutes' walk from where we live, closer to the school where he works, and moved out. Also in my absence.

And Tim adopted Lady Jane: 

Since they were all four months old by this stage, they were all neutered; this is something that some Cypriots don't like to do, but there are so many stray cats that we felt it was important. Particularly for Alex, who was growing fast and starting to display worryingly teenage tendencies. We did not want him spraying to mark territory, or roaming the streets at night yowling for females. 

So by the time I got home, the two kittens were in residence, in an uneasy alliance with Cleo and Sophia. Alex likes to sleep in bookcases and on printers:

Joan is still quite interested in exploring: here she is discovering herself in a mirror: 

And she also sleeps on the sofa, much more elegantly than her brother: 

A couple of weeks ago, Richard and I watched an episode of Doctor Who on DVD. Cleo loves the show - she always sits on Richard's lap when we see it. Sophia keeps out of the way. We had no idea where the kittens were until it had finished, and we discovered Alex hiding behind the sofa: 

... just as I used to when I was young and Doctor Who was on. 

Alex seems to be getting a lot bigger than Joan - typically male, I suppose! - but they still do everything together; here they are having a nap while trying to stay cool about two weeks ago:

.. and here they are, exhausted after the visit from our young friends: 

Alex sometimes washes Joan; she puts up with it for a while, but then tries to push him away: 

But overall, the experiment is working just fine. Here are three of them sharing a sofa a few days ago: 

The kittens are nicely subservient, and Cleo seems to think they're her kittens - she tolerates them remarkably well, and bats them away when they encroach too much. Sophia treats them like annoying little siblings. They have just started eating together, even sharing dishes - something neither Cleo nor Sophia would ever do with Tessie. 

What I find particularly interesting is that, although they still make some mews that sound very like their mother, they have also picked up some specific 'words' from Sophia. The one they are using in this short clip, however, appears to be a universal cat word - I've heard their mother use it, I've heard Sophia use it, and I've seen other cats on YouTube using it. It apparently means 'give me yogurt':

PS Alexander has now started his own blog: Alexander the Great

Transforming an elderly jumper (or sweater) into a cat bed

Once upon a time, many years ago, a new and very warm woolly jumper (or sweater, if you're from the US) arrived in our household. I don't remember exactly when, or even how it was acquired, but I think it was a gift from one of my siblings to Daniel. He always seemed to feel cold in the winter, and was very appreciative of this gift which he wore on many occasions.

I was, at first, a bit worried about it going in the washing machine, but hand-washing proved to be such a chore that the jumper sat at the bottom of the laundry basket for far too long. Eventually I tried a delicate setting, and it was just fine.

Daniel was still wearing this jumper regularly back in January 2006, just before he left Cyprus to join the MV Doulos:

He didn't take it with him, however, as he knew that he would be mostly in warm temperatures. We kept it in his closet for a while, but somehow it was appropriated by Richard, who also feels decidedly cold at times.

Then one year, he took it to the UK.  And - as so often - our luggage was overweight, so we left some things behind, including this jumper which he decided would be more useful there than in Cyprus, as our new house is rather warmer than our old one.  And there it stayed. It no longer fitted Daniel: over the years it had been washed at less delicate settings, so that it had shrunk a little. Daniel doesn't tend to wear that kind of sweater any more, anyway. On subsequent trips to the UK, Richard was pleased to find it, and wore it.

It was still going strong in 2011 when he wore it on a walk the park in Birmingham:

It was decidedly past its best. There were a few holes that had developed in the sleeves, and it was beginning to feel 'felted'. We didn't want to throw it out - it really was a very nice jumper - but it was beginning to feel a bit tight even on Richard. He suggested I could have it, but I found the material just a little too scratchy, and also rather too warm.

Then, idly browing online (as you do) I came across this wonderful page about making a cat bed from an old sweater.  It looked simple enough, even for me. And I knew exactly which sweater would be perfect for the job...

We brought it back from our recent trip, and when I found it, I ignored all the piles of things to be put away, and everything else that needed to be done, and set to work to make it.  Sophia was very interested and kept trying to climb onto it while I was sewing... which turned out to be a good thing. When it was finally finished and I put it on the floor, she jumped in and sat there defiantly, quite certain I didn't want her there:

Then, not long afterwards, Cleo found it and also decided that she liked it:

I did wonder if I would need to make a second cat bed, but so far there have not been any squabbles - each of them sleeps in it occasionally.  I suspect they may do so more often when it gets colder. 

Regular readers of this blog might be wondering why there are only two cats mentioned in conjunction with the cat bed.  That's because, sadly, our third cat Tessie vanished while we were in the UK. She went out one afternoon, and did not return. Tim searched the house from top to bottom including all cupboards, closets and balconies, and went around the neighbourhood too, wondering if she had accidentally got shut away somewhere. She often stayed out overnight... but was always waiting to come in when we appeared in the morning. She wasn't very good with the cat flap.

Here's quite a flattering picture of her a couple of years ago, sitting on our guest flat doormat: 

Tessie was a very friendly cat; perhaps she would have gone off with someone trying to steal cats, but she wasn't young. We kept hoping she would return but it's been nearly four weeks now. We're all sad, but it seems unlikely that she will come back after all this time.

It reminds me rather too strongly of when Jemima vanished almost exactly six years ago :-( 

Cleo and her changing coloured coat...

We've had Cleo for about fifteen years now. She's the oldest of our cats, and the grumpiest. At one point she was by far the best at jumping, the most likely to go exploring over the rooftops. She's not the most sociable of cats; being glossy and black (albeit with a little white patch on her tummy) she regularly camouflages herself on black wood, although she will sometimes sit on someone wearing black trousers.

She's not purebred, of course. She was found as a tiny kitten; we bottle-fed her at first, and we've always been aware that in some lights there's a slight tinge of brown in her fur. However, in the spring one of our visitors commented that she looked as if she were no longer a black cat.  We looked at her properly, and realised that this was the case. It wasn't just the sunshine: Cleo was - apparently - turning brown:

Another friend commented that this happened to one of their cats when she got older. Cleo still seemed reasonably active, although there's evidently a bit of arthritis in one of her front legs, but she's still eating and being quite affectionate, so we didn't worry over much. 

But she's a strange cat. A few years ago she seemed to be losing all her fur in the spring; this wasn't just moulting, it was very thin in places. Then it all grew back again in the summer. 

In May, Cleo was looking much blacker again:

Although in June, she looked brown once more, with her fur decidedly thin. Her face was still healthy, she was still eating, she was still socialising and insisting on being inside game box lids, but she was looking decidedly mangy overall:

But now, with summer in full swing, Cleo is glossy black again. She's thinner than she was a few years ago, but has been extremely friendly recently, sitting on almost any lap that appeared in the living room. She doesn't go out as much as she used to - she really can't jump much any more - but she still spreadcats herself over the back of her favourite chair:

A post about our cats

Other than a brief mention of our youngest cat Tessie, just over a week ago, I've said very little about our cats for some time. This isn't because because they are any less important to us, but they're all getting older now and tend to spend a lot of time sleeping.

November has really been very mild so far this year, despite a bit of rain now and again. Today, after a somewhat grey day yesterday, the sun has been out - at least until it started to get dark. We haven't had to think about any heating yet, but the cats have switched from sleeping on the floor (which keeps them cool in the summer) to sleeping in random comfortable places around the house.

Or, maybe, not so random. When I want to look for Cleo, the usual place to find her is somewhere upstairs, very often right in the middle of our bed:

I like it very much when she's there just before I get into it at night during the winter, as she leaves a nice warm patch.

Cleo was 14 at some point during the summer, so according to the cat year calculator on Wikipedia, she's around the equivalent of 73 in human years. The Catcalculator site puts her at 80 - there's no true correlation with human years so it's impossible to say with any exactness. Whether in her 70s or past 80, Cleo remains lively at times, despite sleeping a great deal. Athough a few years ago she started losing fur, in a somewhat worrying manner, it's now thick and glossy as ever.

Sophia is Cleo's daughter, and will be 14 at the end of February next year. She has become my cat I have become her human since Daniel left home, and she usually follows me around the house, talking to me at length, hassling me if she thinks I should be elsewhere, or even rounding up visitors when she thinks it's time for them to leave. Sophia is a very organised and highly intelligent cat, but she is slowing down too as befits her advancing years.

One of the places she likes to sleep is on the sofa in my study, if she can catch a bit of sunshine through the french windows:

She's also very keen on my beanbag:

If I sit on the beanbag to read, as I do first thing in the morning, she sits on me to purr. But for some reason she's not very keen on my lap when I'm at the computer.

And yes, observant readers might notice a tiny lump at the corner of Sophia's right eye. I hope it's just a tiny cyst; it doesn't seem to bother her, and isn't growing as far as we can tell.

As for Tessie, when she's not in my shoebox her new bed she likes sleeping on the printer. Not very good for it when it's uncovered, so I usually remember to put a plastic cover on it, to keep out dust and of course cat hair:

Tessie must now be around 12. We don't know when her birthday is, but she was perhaps a couple of months old when she arrived on our doorstep, Christmas 2000.  That makes her the equivalent of 64-70, depending on which calculator we trust. She is still the most kittenish of our cats, and the most violent too, where other cats are concerned. The other neighbourhood cats don't dare to come on our property now; they're all terrified of her. Despite her cute and fluffy appearance. 

We occasionally talk about acquiring a couple of kittens, since we're becoming all too aware that we won't have these three cats forever.  Cats can live till around 20 or even older, but 16-18 is more usual. However, with Tessie's territorial instincts, we're not sure that new kittens would survive, and I can't say that I'm anxious to go through the small kitten stage again... 

So we'll see. 

Enjoying some special visitors

Last Friday evening, we met Daniel and Becky at the airport for their first visit to Cyprus since getting married at the end of April last year. Since we have converted what used to be Daniel's room into Richard's study for his sabbatical, they are sleeping - and breakfasting - in our ground floor guest flat.

Sophia is, of course, very happy that Daniel is here:

However, she seems happy to accept that he sleeps downstairs, and still spends the night on my feet, waking me fairly early in the mornings. She has sat on me once or twice too, something she didn't do at all last time Daniel visited. I feel very honoured.

Naturally, we have already played several games, including Ticket to Ride:

And my small friends were very happy to see Becky again, when they came over yesterday morning:

Last night, Richard was out, so after a fairly quick Ticket to Ride game (which Daniel won by a considerably amount, although I would have done if we'd had just one more round...) we realised that we could play a card game:

Richard will not play card games. Ever.

It's not just Sophia who likes sitting on Daniel. He seems to have a natural affinity for cats. Here he is with Tessie:

I'm sure the time will race past while they're here, but we're very much enjoying having them. And while it's been fairly rainy, and decidedly chilly, at least it's rather warmer than Carlisle where they are usually based.

Unpredictable Cyprus weather in January

One doesn't, of course, expect warm weather in the Northern hemisphere during January. But Cyprus is renowned for having plenty of sunshine. We wear two or three layers of clothing during the daytime, sleep under a warm duvet at night, and run our central heating morning and evening, although sometimes it doesn't even cut in because the house is already warmer than 15C. I really don't mind January at all, in general.

Just over a week ago, it was a gorgeous day. Richard was out, and my friend Sheila suggested a walk, without any children. We went to the Salt Lake trail, and saw the flamingoes looking very pink:

After the amount of rain we've had, the Salt Lake is looking quite full this year. We walked for a little over an hour, and felt distinctly warm by the time we returned. I even took my fleece off during the walk, although I had to put it on again shortly after returning home. Even after fourteen years, I still find it odd that it's often warmer outside than in.

During last week, however, the temperatures plummeted. A couple of times it got as low as 3C overnight. It was no more than 12 during the daytime, and we had to run the heating a couple of times in the middle of the day just to stop ourselves from shivering.

Cleo is very much enjoying Richard's sabbatical, and keeps warm by sitting on him any time he's home. She likes his black chair, too, which nicely camouflages her - or so she thinks:

Sophia curls up in a tight ball wherever she happens to be sleeping, which is not very photogenic, but Tessie isn't quite so used to sleeping on beanbags, and was happy to pose when the sun came out:

There has been a lot more rain, too. The reservoirs are fuller than they have been for a long time, and some of the dams are even overflowing. Most of the island's water comes from the snow (in the mountains) melting in the spring, so it's very good news that we have so much water already.

But I was glad to wake up to some sunshine this morning, even though it's still a bit cold.