It’s our last day in North Cyprus today, the sun is shining, the washing machine is doing its thing, my old dressing gown nearly jumped in by itself it was so grubby. It has been wonderful, this last month, acting as a fluffy blanket for the chilly evenings. Last night it suffered the final lashings of spun sugar as I gobbled a whole packet of special Turkish fairy floss. Oh God it was good, it just melted on the tongue and couldn’t stop peeling off the long string-like segments. I did start eating it on the beach in a bracing wind, and it ended up all over the front of my jumper and around my cheeks. I felt about five. My tongue was going like the clappers trying to retrieve the last little bit. John just walked on pretending he wasn’t with me.

It is totally unconnected and nothing to do with fairy floss, but I did have to go to the dentist the other week, as I had a horrid infection between two crowns.  It was all so casual. The receptionist told me the dentist wouldn’t be there till 4 p.m.,  and her English was not so good so she went next door to get the local DVD bandit guy (his DVDs are always rubbish) to come and translate. He asked me to open my mouth and tell him what was wrong and which tooth hurt. I still can’t believe that I did. Then later when I came back at 4 p.m., the dentist was very casual in jeans and a fisherman’s jumper, and the receptionist with her leather boots which had spikes and metal straps and her body warmer instantly turned into the nurse. I was a little worried, after the clinical excellence of Doha, but the dentist knew what was what and gave me an X-ray and antibiotics and now I am fine. When we got back to the compound here, I had to smile at the Russian fellow who has set himself up as the King of Massage and walks about all sterile-looking in hospital scrubs!

The market is still a must for a Friday morning, and we load up with so many oranges, still with their leaves and stalks fresh from the trees. I did a double-take on a man who was so like Struwwelpeter from the horrific stories of cutting of thumbs and cautionary tales by Heinrich Hoffman.

John has become a great beach guardian, collecting bag loads of rubbish on each of our walks –   polystyrene, broken glass and the inevitable plastic bottles. There doesn’t seem to be any incentive to pick up debris after a drunken picnic. Oh well, I watched him filling up bags and thought of how we change. When we were children we spent our days collecting treasures consisting of stones, shells, and pretty rocks.

The sad thing is that the municipal bins are probably dumped over a ravine at another beauty spot.

We have been blessed with sunny days, the fields are full of random wild anemones and spring flowers, and so have been out every day marching about, tramping across the fields, over to Iskele and down to Cyprus Gardens. I love it there, it is now a casino/resort place but has old fashioned bungalows and quaint walkways and an idyllic setting. When I sit on the wall there, looking out at the sea, it conjures images of F. Scott Fitzgerald and lazy summers in the South of France.

I do love reading the newspaper here. The English version only comes out on a Saturday and it is full of the latest events. I suppose it’s the equivalent of Hello magazine. There are pictures of expats at parties and at numerous charity organizations e.g. save the donkeys, patch up the injured turtles, and animal rescue. Of course there are the cancer charity events, bike rides, walks, bingo and what not, and walks to find rare orchids. I was quite upset reading yesterday about a young woman who caused absolute carnage on the road. She must have been going faster than a plane taking off, as she skidded into the central reservation, flew 9 m into the sky  and ‘flew’ right over the car on the other side, removing the roof and killing all four young teachers inside. Her car then still full of momentum flew on to land on the bonnet of the car behind, injuring all three passengers. She herself walked away unharmed, and I see in the paper she has now decided to change her plea to ‘guilty’.

We had lunch at a local café and had fabulous olive and cheese bread with tomatoes and radishes. We also had a salad that looked like a pile of grass. I gingerly tasted a leaf, feeling a bit like Mother Bunny, and it was peppery and piquant. I think it was from the wild mustard plants we see growing alongside the road. Whatever, it was nice.

Today we pack and tomorrow we leave. Our suitcases are a mix-mash of outfits for so many different occasions. We have cavalierly thrown out the double duvet cover that I thought we might need when we go camping on the banks of the Ganges. It is just too heavy. I just hope the evil kraits and cobras don’t get us!

And tomorrow we will be in the ancient city of Istanbul. John just keeps fantasising about what we shall eat, and the coffee shops that we’ll sit in. I have other things on my mind, like the biggest souk in the world and miles and miles of shops!!! Surely there will be things to buy there that are lightweight!

One final thing, I did love this ‘advice’ that was sent to me, regarding ladies who sew! I must just add this on before I forget. Love it!