The final nine days of August

 I wondered, at the start of the month, whether I would remember to write about the details, albeit mostly rather dull, of a month in Cyprus, semi-aestivating in the air conditioning. 

And suddenly, it's the last stretch... not that September will be significantly cooler, but the days are getting shorter and by the end of September we should at least have stopped using the air conditioning. 

Sunday 23rd

As with every other Sunday, I started by watering the plants, then went for a 2km walk. I'm not keeping my phone with me every moment, as I used to do. So on days when I only walk in the mornings, I don't even register 5,000 steps. I'm more interested in what my app calls 'heart points', ensuring I reach the minimum of twenty if possible, aiming for heart health. 

We were expecting our closest local friends in the afternoon: four of them this time, which is more than usually come now. So I put a loaf of bread on (in the breadmaker), and decided to try a vegan pseudo-'cheesecake' from a recipe I found online some time ago. It suggested a complex crust using seeds, dates and nuts but I thought I'd keep it simple and use a standard cheesecake base with digestive biscuits and spread. Somewhat ultra-processed, but when it gets cooler I'm going to see if I can make digestive biscuits myself, to avoid that problem.

More random Larnaka images for the end of March

 For anyone who thinks Cyprus is all sunshine and warmth... this is a screenshot from March 21st, on a morning when my friend Sheila and I decided that we would not be going out for our usual 5km walk...

According to local news reports, it has been an exceptionally wet March.  It has certainly felt that way. It's a good thing, as the reservoirs are now in a much better state than they were at the start of the year, although we're still told to conserve water, and I believe the hosepipe ban is continuing. 

Salt Lake, a pot-bellied pig and a continuing shopping challenge.

Yes, it's almost half-way through January. After quite a slow December, and a very leisurely week after Christmas, January seems to be racing by. 

The Salt Lake, rain and a few flamingoes

The Salt Lake, which was empty for many months, started filling up in December when there was more rain than usual. Sadly it made little difference to the reservoirs, but the Salt Lake, which isn't very deep, did eventually look like a lake again:

January started dry, but then we had quite a lot of rain a few days ago, leading to puddles in many of the streets (despite much better drainage than in the past, since the installation of sewers under the roads). 

November in Cyprus: kitten update, first rains

Kittens

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

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

I took this video eleven days ago:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Rain and the Salt Lake

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

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

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

Life in general 

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

Back in Cyprus after eight weeks away

This summer I had the longest time out of Cyprus for many years. I'm so thankful to those who put me up (or, perhaps, put up with me?), particularly my family in Carlisle who had me for the bulk of my UK visit. It was wonderful being an on-the-spot Grandma for so long, and I was very well looked after. 

Among other things, I played a lot of games with my granddaughter, who is seven-and-a-half. Early in my stay, we played Boggle almost daily, and also the card game Skyjo. I've never really understood why Skyjo is so appealing; it's easy to learn, quick to play, and has very little skill. Or so it seems... but some people (including my granddaughter) manage to win considerably more often than would happen if the game were purely luck. 

And, by the time I'd played thirty or forty games, usually first thing in the morning, I was starting to win more often. I have no idea why.

We continued to visit the Carlisle library most weekends, and also the wonderful 'Bookcase' second-hand shop. It's an amazing place, with several floors and dozens of different sections. The basement has a lot of children's books, and the grandchildren will sit and read for as long as they're able. 

Prices aren't as good as charity shops, but there is a huge selection. Unfortunately there isn't an online catalogue. But the staff on duty are very helpful. 

On other days, depending on the weather, we went out for walks, or went to local parks. We had one morning visit to the Watchtree nature reserve. The children rented bikes, and the adults walked a pleasant trail of a few kilometres. 

We also visited a place called Dalston, not far away, where there was another good walk through a natural environment, and a park. What we didn't know was that it was the first day of the village festival. So we were quite amused to see a rubber duck race in the stream...

There were scarecrows around the village, taking on a variety of important roles:

We walked around an art exhibition in a church, too, and were shown some conjuring tricks. The sun shone and we ate lunch outside. 

I mentioned in the previous post that I was planning to go to my aunt's funeral towards the end of my stay. It was a bit complex organising the transport. The best value was to get a train to Birmingham, then a National Express coach from there to Cardiff. The only problem was having to get from New Street train station to Digbeth coach station. They're not that far apart, but Birmingham has changed a lot since I lived there, and I'm not familiar with the city centre any more. 

So I allowed an hour each time for this.

I left Carlisle just after lunch on the last day of July. The train was mostly on time; maybe five minutes late, so I still had plenty of time to get to Digbeth. But I didn't want to take any chances, and there were taxis waiting outside New Street. So that was easy, even if it cost me a few extra pounds. 

I arrived at the coach station in Cardiff just after 8pm and was very thankful that my sister met me there in the car. It had been a long afternoon, and I  appreciated having my Kindle with me as I travelled.

Funerals are always poignant and difficult, especially for the close family. My brother took our aunt's funeral service, and it was as uplifting and encouraging as possible in the circumstances. It was a bonus to spend some extra time with my three siblings, although I had seen them all in June. It was also good to catch up briefly with my cousins, one of whom I had not seen for about forty years. I hope it won't be another forty years before we see each other again... 

My return journey to Carlisle started mid-morning on August 2nd. My sister drove me to the Cardiff coach station (so called, though it's outside) and my coach was due to leave just before 11am.  It left a little late, but I was thankful not to be on another one, a couple of lanes down, which evidently had a serious problem. All the passengers were told to disembark and leave their luggage behind... they were still waiting when the one I was on departed.

Traffic was quite heavy en route to Birmingham, and by the time it reached Digbeth it was half an hour after its expected time of arrival.  I knew I had another half-hour and that the taxi outgoing took only about five minutes, but I was still somewhat anxious about reaching New Street in time. I was more concerned still when I got out and there were no taxis to be seen. I headed in what I hoped was the right direction, thinking I would find a taxi elsewhere, but traffic was almost at a standstill in places, and there were no taxi ranks. 

So I kept walking. My sense of direction is appalling (some would say non-existent) but I tried to relax, reminding myself that I did pay an extra pound or so when booking the train which, I think, would have allowed me to go on a later one if necessary. I was praying for guidance as I attempted not to panic; the sun was out and I was getting warmer and warmer after the air conditioned coach....

Then suddenly I recognised where I was. It was not far from the ramp that used to lead up to the bull-ring shopping centre. I knew all the indoor centres had changed, and prayed that it still led to the station, as I had no idea where the main entrance was. 

To my great relief, the ramp still existed, as did the escalators down to the train station. I had done the walk in about ten minutes. I suspect a taxi would have taken longer, given the traffic. The time was 14.45 and I thought my train was at 15.00, but it wasn't showing on the board. I didn't know which platform to go to. I found my ticket - I had both an e-version and a printed one - and to my surprise (and relief) the booked train was actually for 15.10. With an extra ten minutes, I was able to use a loo and buy some sandwiches and iced coffee, as I hadn't had any lunch.

I got on the train in plenty of time, and although it was about ten minutes late arriving in Carlisle, I was back at my son's home by about 6.30 in the evening, for our last weekend together. 

On Monday we played games most of the morning, then walked to town and had lunch at a pleasant (and surprisingly good value) restaurant called Bordo's. 

We followed that with coffee at Costa, and then the family all came onto the platform to wave me off as I left on the train to Glasgow. 

It was perhaps appropriate that it started to rain about half an hour after I had left, and continued for the rest of the day. I was glad I had my lightweight rain jacket with me, easily reachable in my backpack. At Glasgow Central railway station I asked at the information office how to get to the airport, and was given excellent directions to the appropriate bus. I was a little surprised at how long it took to get to the airport - perhaps I shouldn't have been, as the fare was higher than I had expected.

Indeed, it wasn't a great afternoon. So much so that I didn't take any photos at all. Glasgow Airport was devoid of anyone who might be able to help me, and I couldn't find any shuttle buses to the Travelodge where I was booked in for the night. I did find a map which showed it, and set off, walking, in the right direction. However I found myself in a car park which I wandered round for far too long before I found the way out - back near the airport. 

I asked someone in uniform near the airport how to get to the Travelodge and was told to look for the Premier Inn, and then it would be obvious. 

They were wrong. 

But there was a garage near the Premier Inn so I went into the shop and asked a helpful assistant, who pointed me in the right direction. By then I was feeling drenched... my lightweight jacket is showerproof, but not fully waterproof, and I hadn't been able to keep the hood up. My trousers and socks were damp, too. I had to trudge along the side of a road, on a grassy verge where my pull-along large cabin case was looking decidedly wet. 

I did eventually find the Travelodge, and was extremely thankful to do so. It only had two storeys and was surrounded by quite tall trees and hedges. There is no way it could have been visible from the Premier Inn. I had been walking for an hour. I had to open the case and remove the socks I had put around the edges, so they could dry out. I was so tired I lay down for an hour before going to get something to eat at the restaurant. 

Then it was hard to sleep, because the room was quite light and too warm; but as it looked over a car park I didn't want to open the window as it was too noisy. The bed wasn't particularly comfortable either. Previously I've had great experiences with Travelodges, which are 'cheap and cheerful', but usually more comfortable. 

I eventually slept, and then had further disappointment when the breakfast bar had no apple juice, no fruit compote (one of my favourite Travelodge breakfast items) and, worst of all, the coffee machine was out of order. I had some instant coffee for the caffeine, but it was my least favourite brand; one I wouldn't normally use. 

However, there was one very good thing. When I checked out, I asked the person on duty what was the easiest way to walk to the airport, and she gave me clear directions. The day was bright and clear, and I walked back to the airport in about ten minutes. 

Glasgow Airport doesn't have great wifi; it wouldn't let me use Whatsapp or even send text messages, but Facebook and Messenger worked, as did Duolingo. And when it came to boarding my flight, I was glad I had 'easy boarding' (allowing me the large cabin bag as well as my backpack) as it was quick and very efficient. 

Unlike the many horror stories I've heard recently from friends and relatives, the flight left on time and arrived in Larnaka early. And since it was evening, and almost dark, it wasn't nearly as hot as I had feared. 

It's a relief to be home again, after all the travelling. 

Another week over...

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

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

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

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

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

 

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

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

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

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

And so, that was Christmas. 

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

Uh-oh.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Perhaps winter is, at last, arriving. 

Oh, and my cold...

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

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

Where is Autumn....?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That's not what the forecast suggests:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Rain... and an unexpected flood

Several people told us that there was a lot of rain on September 6th when we returned from our UK visit. But by the time we arrived back the sky was clear and the ground mostly dry.  We didn't have to water the plants for a few days, but the temperatures remained fairly high and there was almost no more rain. just the odd shower once or twice.  

The Salt Lake - our friends told us - never quite dried out this summer. As I mentioned in the last post, in mid-September, when I started walking again with my friend Sheila, there was a fair amount of water in it. 

But with the lack of any more significant rain over the next few weeks, we began to wonder if the lake might in fact dry out by the end of October.  Each week there was noticeably less water, and although we knew flamingoes had arrived in Cyprus, we didn't see any. Friends who visited early in the month saw some in Oroklini, not far away, but evidently there wasn't enough water in the local Salt Lake. 

My brother and his family were due to arrive for a visit just over a week ago. The forecast looked very grim, with rain predicted for every day of their stay, and thunderstorms over the weekend. However, experience told us that when five days of heavy rain is expected, we might get one, maybe two. And even then, the rain is usually punctuated by sunshine.  Sure enough, although it rained on Sunday morning - the day after their arrival - it cleared up and stayed fine from mid-afternoon. That was good, as we had planned an outdoor evening get-together with a few friends. 

The following day, however, it was a different story. I managed to pop out to the local shops in between a couple of rain showers, and by lunch-time the rain was pouring down. 

We could see water running down the streets, although the drains seemed to be working so that there wasn't a river in the road; we would have expected to see one a decade or so ago. I kept checking our stairs, where there's often a leak with very heavy rain, and was pleased to note that there were just a few drips. Evidently our roof tiles, finally fixed a couple of years ago, were still keeping the water out.

So we had a cold lunch, and were chatting awhile before my brother said he thought he would pop downstairs to our guest flat. The rain had slightly abated so it seemed like a good time to go down. We were still clearing the table, when he said, 'There seems to be something leaking onto the sofa...' 

We went to investigate. Sure enough, there was a wet patch on the back of the sofa in the living room, and as we watched, another drip fell from the ceiling. 

Uh-oh. 

Richard shrugged. 'It's Cyprus,' he said. Heavy rain, he explained, can cause water to get in between the floors. There was nothing much we could do other than move the sofa out of the way and place a bucket under the drip.

'I suppose we should check whether something's leaking upstairs?' I suggested, a little tentatively. Years earlier we had a drip in about that place, and it was from a slow leak at the back of the toilet. 

So he went up the stairs, and quickly came down again. There was, he said, a pool of water pretty much covering the entire upstairs floor. 

Six years ago (I'm surprised it was that long!) we had a flood in our bedroom in the night, due to a small ball blocking the overflow of our balcony. For two or three years afterwards, we checked carefully, every time there was heavy rain, not wanting it to happen again. But we had pretty much forgotten about it, and were doing other things ...so didn't think to go upstairs or see whether the balcony was draining as it should last Monday.

A photo showing the rain on our balcony really doesn't do it justice. It must have been three centimetres deep: 

Richard splashed his way out and found that the overflow was blocked by bird mess, probably washed off the roof by the earlier rain. He used the end of a broom to clear it, and water started gushing out of the overflow, slowly draining the water from the balcony.

But the upstairs floor doesn't slope down to the door, so the next problem was trying to get rid of the water that was getting everywhere. Thankfully we don't put books or papers on the floors, and there's no carpet - everywhere in this house is tiled. The furniture is mostly solid wood, so we knew it wouldn't sustain damage if we could remove the water fairly quickly. But it wasn't a simple process. And really only one of us could work at a time. 

So I began, first with a broom, sweeping as much water as I could from the bedroom towards the door. It wasn't very effective.

I next fetched our wet/dry cleaning machine, which sucks water up effectively. I decided to start in Richard's study where - thankfully - the water hadn't quite reached the wires under his desk. And, even better, there aren't many wires on the floor nowadays, because of our Roomba vacuum cleaner which has a tendency to try to eat any wires it finds.

However the Bissell cleaning machine tank doesn't have a very big capacity. Maybe a litre. And with water over most of the floor, it filled up in a couple of minutes, so I had to empty it. It's quite back-aching work using it on the floor. So by the time I had emptied it half a dozen times, with no appreciable reduction of the water level in the room, I decided to leave that idea for a while.

More sweeping in the bedroom removed a bit more water, and I then went to fetch the old-fashioned mop and bucket, which turned out to be the most effective method. The bucket holds about ten litres so it took longer to fill up, and after a couple of buckets full, the study floor was looking almost dry. The  cleaning machine then worked pretty well to get rid of the last few puddles. 

One room done, and it had taken nearly forty-five minutes.

I did some mopping in our bedroom next, but was soon too tired and achey to continue, so, fifteen minutes or so later, Richard took over.  And, with a combination of sweeping, mopping and the wet/dry Bissell machine, taking it in turns, we did eventually get rid of most of the water. A few shoes had to be dried out, but the sun came out in the late afternoon, so that didn't take long. 

A beanbag, in the room we still refer to as our younger son's, absorbed a huge amount of water and had to be dried out over the next couple of days. One bookcase looks as though part of the base has been somewhat destroyed. But everything else is now fully dried out, and - as far as we can tell - undamaged.

So we're very thankful that my brother spotted the drip when he did, and that we decided to check upstairs before it got any worse.

The following morning, not only did the Salt Lake look almost full, but the flamingoes were there. The tiny pink dots on the right-hand side of the photo (which you might see if you click to enlarge it) are flamingoes.  We have no idea how they know when there's enough water for their needs. 

Recycling in Cyprus

It's just over ten years since the 'Green Dot' company introduced recycling in Larnaka (and elsewhere in Cyprus). We were a little dubious at first, but it's been extremely efficient. Every Monday evening, two large and noisy trucks drive around our neighbourhood, collecting the two different kinds of roadside recycling: the paper and card (in a brown bag) and the PMD (plastic-metal-drinks) recycling, in an almost clear bag.  Sometimes they come as early as about four o'clock, sometimes as late as eleven o'clock, but they come by every week. Even on public holidays. 

It took us a few years to work out an efficient method of storing the things we planned to recycle, as we don't generate nearly enough to put out a bag every week. But in the autumn of 2014 we started using a chest of drawers in the kitchen rather than simply piling things in an overflowing trolley behind the freezer: 

It's been moved since then, but the principle of putting the PMD and paper recycling in two separate drawers has worked so well that we still do that over six years later. 

A few years ago we also placed two different coloured dustbins outside, one for PMD and one for paper. This enables any guests to put out recycling easily, and means that if our PMD drawer starts to overflow before there's enough to fill one of the sacks, I can put some of it in the blue bin. It also means that some of the advertising junk mail can go straight into the brown bin without ever entering the house.

Then a year or so ago we bought a crate to take the glass recycling. That isn't collected from the roadside; we have to take it to one of the green containers that can be found in various places. We usually remember to take it when we go to Metro, but not always. It generally takes a couple of months to be anywhere near full. 

I now put out recycling for collection on the last Monday of each month. So this morning, in between rain showers, I filled the two bags from the kitchen drawers and the outside bins:

The PMD sack contains tetrapaks (squashed to almost flat), cans, a few plastic containers and some metal trays or lids.  Putting it out once a month means the bag is fairly full, but not overflowing.  The paper one is fuller than usual, but I don't think I put any out at all in October, so that's probably two months' worth. 

A few glass items had found their way into the PMD drawer, so I moved those down to the outside crate.  This is what we've used in November: 

It looks as if there's plenty of room for December's bottles and jars, which is just as well as we forgot to take the crate when we went to Metro last week. 

And if anyone is wondering whether our roof repairs held in this morning's rain - the answer is a resounding 'yes'!  Most of the rain was quite light, but there was a heavy downpour for about five minutes, and although I watched carefully, not a single drop appeared on our stairs.  It remains to be seen whether that will stay true in high winds, or in rain that lasts longer than five minutes. But it's a great improvement and we are extremely relieved. 

Repairing the Roof

Anyone who has followed or popped into this blog over the course of the past decade and a half will probably have come across mention of our roof leaking. It's not uncommon in Cyprus to have areas where heavy rain leads to dripping through the roof, and we're thankful that it's only ever been above the stairs. Since stairs don't generally have carpets here, it's annoying but it doesn't take long to mop it up afterwards.

And if you haven't come across any of those posts, and/or are interested in seeing some, this post from 2009 was all about rain, with a photo at the end of our cool box and a yellow bucket strategically placed to catch the drips. In our first few years here, we had two or three people come to look at the roof.  One or two broken tiles got fixed, and suggestions were made, but in the end the regular response was along the lines of, 'This is Cyprus. Roofs leak.' 

The problem was that it got worse each year, or so it seemed. Then in 2010, a couple of Richard's sailing friends took a look at the roof, and discovered a hole, and also a large amount of pigeon mess which was making the rain bounce in an odd direction. I wrote in this post about how they cleaned the mess away, and sealed the hole. And it definitely helped the problem that winter.  

But a year later, there was more torrential rain, and once again our roof leaked. I wrote this post, illustrated again with a photo, except that by then we had moved from a yellow bucket to a blue one. In 2014, we had some loft insulation installed, and another hole in the roof was fixed. And so it went on... each year, we expected rain through the roof when the wind was high and the rain was heavy.

So it wasn't any surprise that it happened this year, when it rained - except that it seemed considerably worse than last year's. Out came the cool box again, although this time it was accompanied by a large empty paint pot. 

But I had to remove photos from the walls, something I hadn't had to do for some years. And it seemed that the rain was coming through in more places than previously. We realised it had been a while since the roof was last cleaned, and we knew there was a lot of bird mess up there. So we called our friendly roofing guy, who eventually came at the end of last week, with another guy, to check the roof and fix whatever problems they could find.

It was important that they came on Friday, as heavy rain was predicted for last weekend, and our roofing friend told us he'd been asked, urgently, to look at two other roofs as well that morning. 

It turned out that there were more problems than just an excess of bird mess. Richard had asked if something could be done to make the problem less severe in future, possibly by moving some of the pipes on the roof. Since I didn't go up there (and have no wish to do so) I didn't entirely understand, but it all sounded like a good idea. 

However, when they moved the pipes, they discovered an entire area of the roof that had never been sealed, with some wood that was rotting away. 

And when they'd replaced the wood and sealed the area, they went over the whole roof carefully. They discovered a couple of broken tiles which they removed and replaced. Here are the broken ones:

I think the roofing guys expected to be here for about an hour, but in the end it was nearly three hours. Thankfully it hadn't started raining, so after cleaning up they hurried off to the next job, hoping to fix another roof before the predicted rain.

Except that it didn't rain. There was a bit of lightning and thunder in the distance, but not a drop of rain. On Saturday evening we had maybe five minutes of light rain, but not the kind that would have leaked through. On Sunday it stayed fine and sunny. 

I don't think I have ever before heard Richard express a wish that we could have some really heavy rain - not because he likes rain, but because we would really like to know if this latest repairwork has actually fixed the problem, at least for this winter. 

There's rain predicted for later this week, and Saturday, so maybe we'll find out then:

Or maybe it will be another fine weekend.  Perhaps fixing the roof is the equivalent of going out with an umbrella, and ensures that it won't rain after all. 

Autumn arrives in Cyprus

I had hoped to write, today, about the new restrictions that are expected in Cyprus for the next few weeks. The experts met on Monday; they have apparently agreed that stricter measures are needed, with new positive Covid figures between 150 and 200 per day over the past week. But nobody knows exactly what restrictions are going to be introduced, nor for how long. 

The papers had said that the cabinet would meet this morning, but today they're saying that it will be this evening, at 6.30pm, and that the Cyprus President will give a speech to the nation around 8.30pm. The last few times we've had increased measures, there hasn't been an official speech - so we're guessing it's going to be fairly serious. Either that, or an emotional appeal to the public to take the restrictions seriously in the hope that we can celebrate together over Christmas.

So that will probably be the subject of tomorrow's post.  Of course there's a significant election happening the other side of the world, which I'm keeping half an eye on, but I don't generally write political posts. And there's nothing anyone can do about that, other than pray. 

But something else happened today, something of little significance in most of the world, but very important here in Larnaka. 

It rained. For the first time since the end of April. 

It was only for about five minutes at first. There were spots of rain on the carport roofs outside:

I could smell the petrichor permeating through the open windows. But unlike early rain when it comes in September, there was no immediate rise in humidity. A few minutes later it rained a little more heavily.  The road turned a darker grey, the outside roofs were wet all over. 

And then a third time before the sun came out and dried it all up. 

It was minimal rain here, really, although more is predicted. Apparently it was much heavier in other parts of the island, so much so that there were power cuts in some areas. 

It's feeling decidedly cooler today, no more than 24 degrees in the house.  I had remembered that the weather often changes during the first week of November, although it's not usually quite such a dramatic change, as it's not, most years, still 30 degrees or more at the end of October. 

But on Monday I got out my jeans for the first time, and was comfortable wearing them all day.  On Tuesday I wore long walking trousers rather than shorts for the Salt Lake walk, and if I felt a tad warm by the time we'd finished, it certainly wasn't uncomfortably so. I've put my shorts away now. 

I've been using the oven again since early October, and drinking hot coffee in the mornings for a couple of weeks, rather than frappés.  But I still mostly wanted a frappé at lunch-time, right up to yesterday.  Today, in the aftermath of the rain, I realised I needed hot coffee, and that I wasn't remotely inclined to have a frappé. So the frappé-maker has gone away in the cupboard for the next six months. 

The forecast, at least from my point of view, looks good for the next ten days or so:

I might even get out a light jacket for the evening, and for walking first thing tomorrow. 

Cyprus in September

As Facebook keeps reminding me, there are several years where I have spent most of August in the UK, and returned to Cyprus early in September.  August remains my least favourite month in Cyprus: the heat and humidity are excessive, and many activities and businesses close down for two weeks or longer.

Not that local activities are particularly relevant now our children are grown up, living and working in the UK. But it does mean that a lot of people tend to travel during August. So it happened again this year: I was away for nearly five weeks, in cooler climes which I like so much better at this time of year. More significantly I spent some quality time with the family.

I flew back to Cyprus on September 3rd.  It hasn't been too humid since my return, and it hasn't been excessively hot. Daytime highs (in the shade) have been around 30-33C, and the nighttimes down to a much more pleasant 22-24C.  We're still using air conditioning when computers are on, and for a couple of hours in the bedroom at night to reduce humidity. I'm not walking anywhere between about 9.00am and 8.00pm. I'm not liking the fact that it's still hot for me, but I have to acknowledge that it's vastly preferable to August.

Last week I agreed to start walking early in the morning with my friend Sheila, again.  We stopped mid-June when it started feeling unpleasantly warm, but usually resume some time in September. I remembered to take my camera for the first walk.  The ground cover was mostly brown, after over three months without rain:

But, as can probably be seen in the thin strip of blue in the middle of the photo, there is still quite a bit of water in the Salt Lake.  Some years it has dried up completely; some years there's just a little water by the end of Summer.  But this year - where we had a lot of rain in the winter and spring, far more than normal - it has as much water now as it sometimes has by the end of the winter.

Here's a cropped picture which shows more clearly how much water there is:

There even seem to be some flamingoes, although they were so far away that none of my photos show them.

We walked to the Airport Road end of the trail.  Three months ago the water was almost up to the trail, so it's gone down a fair bit:  there's dried salt on the sand, although it probably isn't obvious from the photo:

I kept looking at the forecast, hoping it might cool down a degree or two. But the long-range forecast continued to show 31-32 degrees in the daytime, 21-23 overnight.

So it was a bit of a surprise to see a lot of cloud in the sky yesterday morning, and by about noon the clouds were grey and quite threatening. It was extremely humid, too; I turned on the air conditioning in the kitchen where I was cooking our Sunday lunch as I felt so sticky; the air was heavy, and I wondered if there would be thunder over the mountains.

It was even more of a surprise when it started to rain. It slowed down after about half a minute, which is normal for the first rain of the season.  It usually brings lots of dust from the trees and rooftops, and makes the atmosphere even more humid.

But then the rain started up again. It must have rained solidly - quite heavily at times - for almost an hour.  There was some hail, and the kind of torrential rain which is very unusual this early in the season:

Our roof leaked over the stairs, as it does in heavy rain; local friends reported, on Facebook, that their roofs leaked too. And there was apparently some flooding in parts of Larnaka.

By about 3.00pm the rain had stopped, and the sun came out later.  The evening was a little cooler, but today the temperature is back to 31C.  The forecast doesn't show any significant reduction of temperatures for the next ten days - but then the forecast didn't predict over an hour of rain yesterday.   

An Extremely Wet Winter in Cyprus

At the end of October, I wrote about the first real rain of the season in Larnaka. It's always an occasion to mark in a country where drought is fairly frequent, and where there's virtually no rain for at least five months of the year.

In the winter of 2017-18, there were very few rainy days. The weather was mostly mild, and the nights not too chilly at all. We only used our extra-thick (13 tog) duvet for a few weeks, and I didn't get out my wheat bag at all.

The past few months have been a tremendous contrast. In November, it rained regularly. It was mostly at night, with sunshine in the daytime, which seemed like quite a good arrangement.  By December 1st, the Salt Lake was looking decidedly fuller, and the flamingoes were clearly in evidence.

December was even wetter, and it started raining in the daytime too. By January we had become used to regular rain. By mid-February, the island was looking greener than I could ever recall it being - and we've lived here for more than 21 years now.

It has been colder, too. We have used our double thickness duvet for nearly two months now, and heat up our wheat bag every night. Some early mornings it's been 8-10 degrees Celsius.  A couple of days ago it was only 5 degrees.

The water in the Salt Lake was higher than it had been for years:

Here's some of the greenery we saw at the side of the trail, mid-February:

A couple of days later - on another cloudy morning - I looked over a different part of the park; it was so green that it didn't look like Cyprus at all:

This morning we walked to the Airport Road end of the trail again - we've done so more often recently - and there was very little 'beach'.  The water was higher than I can recall it ever being before.

Today I saw an article saying that the past five months have been the second wettest period since 1901 (when, I assume, they started keeping records). 620mm (62cm, or just over two feet) doesn't sound like a whole lot, but is apparently 165% of the average annual rainfall for Cyprus.

I looked up the UK annual rainfall for the sake of comparison. The UK is typically considered a very wet country. Apparently Birmingham, where we used to live, has only 680mm rain per year.  London has just 592mm.  Cyprus in the past five months has been significantly wetter.

Last Summer the Water Board sent out dire warnings about restricted use of hose pipes, and on-the-spot fines for people seen washing their cars or patios using hoses. Of course people continued doing these things, mostly early in the morning or late at night, or on Sundays, when the police would not be around to report or fine them.  And we were still encouraged to use hoses on plants.

Now the reservoirs are fuller than they have been for a long time, with some of the dams overflowing.

I don't think there will be a hose pipe restriction in Cyprus this year!