Standup and Fireworks ...

As the last moments of the year slide away it’s time for Richard’s best standup routine and fireworks….

The Last Monday of 2008 ...

Seems a while since we have been to the theatre and longer still since we were in the West End.

Sadly Don Luigi’s has closed but we ate instead at Italian Graffiti, a family owned restaurant with simple tables and peach, sponged walls and the sort of shabby chic you only get in a place that’s not owned by a brand.

Down the road at The Gielgud Theatre Bill Bailey was in great form explaining the he got the Christmas decorations which were on the stage from a recently closed Lapland park.

I have to say I don’t like seeing comedians in large venues, you loose the contact and impact when you can only see them on a screen above the stage and miss out on the “contributions” from the less bright colonial cousins.

I didn’t laugh - honest - well, not much…

I’m off to find my nearest branch of UBS

Cold Day At The Cathedral ...

Galleries and Jazz ...

A trip into London to browse the National Gallery followed up the watching The Jive Aces at the Royal Festival Hall.

Boxing Day Walk ...

Probably The Best Christmas Ever ...

“Can I open it now ?”, asked K as I passed her the small box from the jewelers.

Down the road at Martin’s presents were exchanged before we headed to K’s Aunt’s to tell them our news.

After the best Christmas meal ever it’s time to sing-a-long with Abba…

You Know He's On His Way ...

For the first time in years I have all the presents wrapped and under the tree, the labels written and no last minute cards to deliver in the road.

For now I’m setting back and tracking Santa.

I hope tomorrow brings you and yours every happiness and the best of all possible Christmas days…

It Happened On Tuesday ...

“Did that really just happen?”, asked K

I lift up the large bag containing a small box. Nestled inside is a very expensive, very shiny present.

“I always told you it would happen on Tuesday”, I reply.

Seaside Fish and Chips ...

“You can smell the sea”, said K as we walk to the chippy.

Blowing up the road from the sea is the ozone smell of seaweed and salt.

It seems ages since I walked by the sea, suddenly Christmas is a world away.

I Need To Remember ...

Not to try to keep up with Karen …

I’m off to nurse my head with a slow walk into town…

Pink Fluffy Bras and Pop Quizes ...

To start the Christmas season Karen, Lizi and Alex came over for lasagna, cheesecake and an 80’s pop quiz that stretched beyond midnight and into the early hours….

The Door Saga Continues ...

I seem to have filled in all the paperwork correctly and submitted the right plans because, today, I received a letter from the council advising me of the next steps.

I now have a case officer to deal with this piece of intricate planning who will, despite me sending them pictures of the house and the door, visit the house (presumably using the plans we coloured in to show them where the house is) and take pictures of the house and door.

That’s not all, I have to display (at a height readable by someone in a wheelchair) a notice telling everyone that I’m planning to change the door. This is a real dilemma as I’m not too sure how high the average wheelchair is and I never covered this type of access in my Design and Access Statement.

Still, it’s only twenty one days until we may have a decision …

Redundancy ...

An employee is dismissed for redundancy, and may qualify for redundancy pay, if the following conditions are satisfied:

• The employer has ceased, or intends to cease continuing the business, or
• The requirements for employees to perform work of a specific type or to conduct it at the location in which they are employed have ceased or diminished.

So, after 14 years, time is served on K’s current career.

Waistline ...

I was rather relieved that I managed to still get into my suit and that the ID card still worked to let me into the building.

It’s been a long day and one I’d rather not repeat…

Bitter ...

I turn the corner and the cold wind bites against my face.

On either side of me cutting through the dark the Christmas lights burn out.

I’ve walked this road many times. In summer and in winter. When I’ve been happy and when I’ve been sad.

At Christmas, with people’s curtains open, I walk past the houses and gaze in at the trees and decorations. Inside their lives look happy and settled. People seem ready for Christmas.

I turn another corner and feel the cold, icy blast of wind.

Seb's Odyssey - The End ...

“One night, when he was just 15 years old, Sebastian Green and a friend took a boat from Weymouth Marina and went for a spin in the Fleet Lagoon behind Chesil Beach. They eventually ran aground and when no-one responded to their shouts for help, Seb leapt over the side to seek assistance - and promptly sank up to his waist in mud. His subsequent rescue involved the coastguard helicopter, an inshore lifeboat and an overnight stay in hospital. He estimates the bill for this teenage prank gone wrong was approximately £20,000. On 1st February 2008, now 18, Seb set out from Weymouth to attempt to walk round Britain in an attempt to raise £20,000 for charity - a sum equivalent to the cost of his rescue. This is his story.”

Seb finally finished that odyssey and has raised the money. It’s still not too late to sponsor him and support this very worthwhile cause.

Seb’s Odyssey

Woolies ...

Walking into the shop today it’s hard to imagine it as it was in the 70’s.

Back then when the town opened it was one of the largest shops we had. Dominating a whole corner of the newly built precinct it was spread over two floors. Almost everything seemed to come from Woolworths from the pick and mix sweets to pots and pans and things for the garden.

I can remember Saturday afternoons upstairs watching the older kids play Pong on TV sets that seemed to need a whole room of their own while I wondered just how long it would take me to save up for a guitar.

I met Henry Cooper in Woolies. Tall and towering with the largest hands I have every seen he came to promote Brut one year. Dressed in a sharp suit and smelling like he’d washed in a bathful of the stuff he wandered around the store throwing mock punches at local lads.

We are all to blame for the demise of Woolies. It slipped from the place you went for a whole range for things to the place you walked past every day. Faced with out of town shopping in Tescos or Sainburys where everything can be bought in one trip Woolies never adapted and we never asked them to.

Standing in the shop today, a much smaller shop since the alterations of a few years ago, the shelves are empty and the banners are a seasonal red and yellow. Sadly, they don’t offer seasonal greetings - they say that soon this shop will be closed.

The best thing we can all do this Christmas is to pick a local shop and spend some money there every week. Chances are what you purchase will be the same as at Tescos, who knows it may even be cheaper. It may mean a change to your routine, it may mean it takes a few minutes more but what you will be doing is putting some money into a person’s pocket and supporting people in their jobs rather than helping to swell share price and investor’s return.

You're An Orphan ?

What we all heard :

K - “How are you Dan ?”

Dan - “I’m awesome !”

What K heard :

K - “How are you Dan ?”

Dan - “I’m an orphan !”

This post sponsored by Hearing Aid World

O Christmas Tree ...

O Christmas Tree,
O Christmas Tree,
Your boughs can
teach a lesson
That constant faith
and hope sublime
Lend strength and
comfort through all time.
O Christmas Tree,
O Christmas Tree,
Your boughs can
teach a lesson

Strength and comfort is something we could all do with at the moment…

The Longest Year ...

What with 2008 being a leap year and having a “leap second” added to our clocks to keep them in synch with the earth’s rotation.

The new extra second will be added on the last day of this year at 23 hours, 59 minutes and 59 seconds Coordinated Universal Time.

Use your second wisely…

A Return to HDR ...

The Victoria Memorial in London during a break in the Christmas shopping …

28 Years Ago ...

Life was so easy back then, I can still remember being in college and the shock of the news…

Cold Front ...

“Brr it’s cold in here”, said K as we stood in her Aunt’s conservatory.

Outside the frost was still thick on the grass. Hard to imagine not that many months ago we were eating Sunday lunch outside…

High Above The Shopping ...

Regent Street, London

Da Do Ron Ron ...

Late evening / night emails making announcements are becoming the norm these days.

Amazing how people change the tune from wanting to stay with the team to leaving as soon as possible….

Prix Pictet ...

The Prix Pictet is a major new global prize in photography that focuses on perhaps the greatest single issue of the twenty-first century: sustainability. The award is sponsored by Pictet & Cie, in association with the Financial Times.

See the shortlist of photographers here and more on this year’s winner Benoit Aquin here.

Door Update ...

I receive a letter from the Council today. Perhaps it’s the planning permission to change the front door - just in time for Christmas !

Inside there is a letter from the Plans Process Officer. I need to submit more bits of paper before they can decide.

Apparently I need to sign an Agriculture Holdings Certificate to prove this isn’t a small holding or a farm. Perhaps the Council have been reading my weblog and noticed that I was farming tomatoes in a window box and potatoes in a barrel all summer ?

I also need to tell them how big the door is. I guess this is in case I accidentally purchase one that is the wrong size for the frame. Or perhaps the are worried that in an attempt to re-create Alice in Wonderland I will make a smaller door with a tempting bottle in the porch labelled, “Drink Me”.

I’m beginning to wonder about the Council and if all this is needed. What makes me wonder all the more is that they need me to supply plans showing where my house is, drawn to 1:2500 scale, showing where north is. Do they really not know the town or is this an attempt to plan early for Christmas so they know which way to look for Father Christmas ?

Finally I need to provide a Design and Access Statement. I wonder if the access part of this can be covered by the sentence, “Put key in door, turn key open door, step inside, close door”.

I put the letter down and get the feeling that I will be getting to know the Plans Process Office very well in the weeks ahead……

Footnote :

Ordnance Survey plan costs : £25.

Guidelines for Design and Access Statements

A design and access statement is a short report accompanying and supporting a planning application to illustrate the process that has led to the development proposal, and to explain and justify the proposal in a structured way.

Design and access statements must not be used as a substitute for drawings and other material required to be submitted for determination as part of the planning application itself. They provide an opportunity for developers and designers to demonstrate their commitment to achieving good design and ensuring accessibility in the work they undertake, and allow them to show how they are meeting, or will meet the various obligations placed on them by legislation and policy.

The level of detail required in a design and access statement will depend on the scale and complexity of the application, and the length of the statement will vary accordingly. Statements must be proportionate to the complexity of the application, but need not be long.

For local planning authorities, design and access statements will enable them to better understand the analysis which has underpinned the design and how it has led to the development of the scheme. This will help negotiations and decision-making and lead to an improvement in the quality, sustainability and inclusiveness of the development.

Design and access statements will allow local communities, access groups, amenity groups and other stakeholders to involve themselves more directly in the planning process without needing to interpret plans that can be technical and confusing. This will help to increase certainty for people affected by development and improve trust between communities, developers and planners. It will also enable the design rationale for the proposal to be more transparent to stakeholders and the local planning authority.

Nerf ...

I’ve never come across Nerf guns before but pinned against the wall in Karen’s hallway as all around me weapons were brandished and bullets fired I got very acquainted with them.

I must be getting old, I got more excited by the computer :Happy Birthday Alex !

Mine, All Mine ...

Almost everything I do now is something I have to do.

Setting goals both short and long term, motivating myself, finding the best things to do and negotiating the worst.

People often say that motivation doesn’t last. Well, neither does bathing.. that’s why we recommend it daily.
Zig Ziglar

A Slow Roast That's Finer ...

A day wandering around the Farmer’s Market, then the Christmas Market. A glass of claret to keep out the cold followed by a Bratwurst eaten under the Christmas tree then home for a couple of films and a dinner of slow roasted leg of lamb cooked with garlic and rosemary.

Sunday’s don’t get much better…

Home Is Where The Tiger Lives ...

“I’ve never seen so many women leopard skin”, I said to K as we struggled down another aisle.

On either side of us, mainly sitting or sleeping in their litter trays, are cages with cats in them. Some of the cats have hidden themselves under the cloths (apparently called Show Whites) put into the bottom of the cages to offer some comfort.

Even the Blue Peter cats are held in a cage, albeit slightly larger and with the Blue Peter logo on the side.

For me cats should be free, in the warmest, most comfortable part of the house or failing that asleep behind me in the office on a black bin liner of shredded paper.

Photobox ...

We all have one.

Mine is a tatty cardboard affair pushed at the back of a cupboard, K’s is a more classy wicker hamper. Both are stuffed with photos that are hard to get to, badly organised and almost impossible to copy.

Sadly, it seems, the electronic version of these, Photobox, seems to have developed into almost as an unwieldy thing.

I’ve used their services a few times and liked the end result. They produce good quality prints and their photobooks and calenders offer slant on what you can do with a year’s pictures.

I was looking forward to doing this again this year but it seems in a year the site has “developed”. Now feature heavy rather than feature rich Photobox has added rather too much to the experience. I found it impossible to upload from either my desktop or Linux laptop, when I did get the pictures online the back end servers which serve out the animated designers used to produce the books etc timed out.

Perhaps, given the season, I should have gone for the Blue Peter method and got out the sticky backed plastic.

Stormy Weather ...

Life is bare, gloom and misry everywhere
Stormy weather
Just cant get my poorself together,
Im weary all the time
So weary all the time

Glo ...

“At glo we believe food should be a daily pleasure.”

After a morning watching red and blue lights dancing before my eyes and a diet of Panadol I was looking forward to a little pleasure.

“I’ll have the Dim Sum set please”, I said, looking forward to six pieces of Dim Sum.

“That will take twenty minutes”, was the reply.

Clearly pleasure takes a while at Glo

High Line ...

I’ve been watching the development of the High Line for a few years now.

This abandoned evalvated railway runs for 1.45 miles along the lower west side of New York City borough of Manhattan between 34th Street near the Javits Convention Center and Gansevoort Street in the West Village. Built in the 1930’s it’s been unused since the early 1980’s.

Friends of the High Line have been working hard to preserve this amazing relic. Get a flavour of the High Line in it’s heyday here.

Brookwood ...

I’ve seen Brookwood many times from the train but today was the first time I’ve visited it.

I wonder what the Dirty Duchess would think of being buried with her husband…

Frosty ...

Frosty the snowman is a fairy tale, they say,
He was made of snow but the children
Know how he came to life one day.

“The lights in Oxford Street are no good, not Christmassy at all”, said the taxi driver today. He was right. In Carnaby Street the wind is cold and the lights a lot more seasonal …

Doldrums ...

“The difference between what we do and what we are capable of doing would suffice to solve most of the world’s problems.” Mohandas Gandhi

And, perhaps, that’s the issue. Surrounded by people who are all very capable yet constrained by rules and “guidance”.

There’s a lot we could do - finding out what we can do will take a little longer.

Letter From America Comes Home ...

Alistair Cooke’s Letter from America scripts to go online - Telegraph

Alistair Cooke’s entire archive from his BBC radio programme Letter from America is to be put online in a digital archive, providing a remarkable account of the recent history of the United States.

All 2,869 scripts, containing an estimated seven million words, will be typed in over the coming months to go on a website run by the University of East Anglia (UEA).

The project will enable people to search his weekly broadcasts over 58 years for everything he said on events ranging from President Kennedy’s assassination to the September 11 attacks.

The Norwich university acquired the right to put them online because Cooke’s literary executor, Colin Webb, studied there.

Mr Webb said the digitised archive would give students and the public access to an “extraordinarily” wide range of topics.

He said: “It is an exciting prospect to imagine that the scripts for Letter from America, which exist largely only in the original printed and annotated form, will be made available for easy access in conjunction with such an established School of American studies at UEA.”

Patti Yasek, Cooke’s secretary, now has the task of typing in the scripts.

“Seven hundred down, 2,169 to go,” she said.

I can’t wait until she’s finished. I have always loved Cooke’s writing and his broadcasts.

For now we’ll have to make the most of the replays of his radio broadcasts

Lost In Space ...

And I thought I had a bad day…

Opps…

The Strange Case Of The Anorexic Cat ...

I’m sure I smell of cat food.

I say cat food but the smooth, brown paste doesn’t look like anything much.

It’s certainly not appealing, despite me moving it from room to room while I say encouraging things to stimulate it’s consumption.

It’s clear that renal cat food doesn’t appeal to anyone in this house.

Somewhere ...

BBC NEWS | World | Europe | Czechs bury German WWII soldiers
The remains of several hundred German soldiers killed during World War II, discovered in a disused factory, have been buried in the Czech Republic.

Czech and German officials attended the ceremony at a newly consecrated military cemetery in the western town of Cheb.

The remains of some 5,500 Wehrmacht troops will be buried at the site by the end of the year.

Most are unidentified and were found over the last few years in boxes.

I know that somewhere you must be out there. Perhaps this makes you rest in peace.

Elton ...

The revelations over Sunday lunch continue.

Today we learned about life with Elton John’s band. How generous Elton is and how to avoid a large, amorous man in a swimming pool.

Bricking It ...

Lego loses trademark ruling in EU - International Herald Tribune
LUXEMBOURG: Lego, the biggest toymaker in Europe, lost a European Union court decision Wednesday over trademark rights for the shape of its famous toy bricks.

The European Court of First Instance in Luxembourg rejected Lego’s challenge to a 2006 EU trademark agency decision.

Lego had argued that the knobs on top of its bricks made them “highly distinctive” and eligible for a trademark. The agency ruled the toys could not be protected because their shape served a technical purpose.

The two rows of studs on top of Lego’s toy bricks perform a “utilitarian function” and are not “for identification purposes in the trademark sense,” according to the trademark agency, which is based in Alicante, Spain.

Some time ago I watched an interview with Lego CEO, Jørgen Vig Knudstorp over at Monocle. What stuck me was the values of this business and their attempts to keep close to those who love the brand and the product turning themselves into an OpenSource company allowing almost anyone to try to influence their direction.

The action against Lego was brought by MEGA Brands who want to produce the same style of bricks.

Something tells me that they won’t have the same approach to the product or the inventiveness of play.

I Give Up ...

There’s a point with any issue where you wonder if continuing to push it is actually doing any good.

I’d love to be talking about some matter of social conscience but I’m not. This is simply something that should have been done right but got lost in noise.

Trying to move things along so the right thing is finally done hasn’t been hard or taken a lot of time. Rather it’s been a case of going slowly, asking and remembering that the issue is still there.

But I’ve seen now what the issue really is. It’s not what we are trying to do. The problem is something that I can’t change or influence.

Time to walk away…

Ugly Is The New Beautiful ...

Bendy cucumbers make a comeback as EU shapes up - Scotsman.com News

“This is a rare moment of sense in an otherwise mad world.”

Throwing away some twenty per cent of what we produce every year has to be madness. All that care, cost and fertiliser wasted because a carrot is too skinny. Now, with the relaxing of the rules that produce can be offered for sale.

Now, if only we could improve on the amount of freshly baked bread we produce on a daily basis (only 5% of the daily sales) and get back to purchasing it on the day as they do in Europe…

Lest We Forget ...

I watch as he wills his body to move.

Almost imperceptibly his limbs strain to raise himself. Across his face the frustration shows.

Next to him a woman 81 years his junior offers an arm and speaks quietly to him, suggesting that she completes the task for him. Around them the trappings of a state occasion continue, moving all the time to the climax on the hour just as it has done for almost ninety years.

Despite the gentle suggestions of the first woman to win the Distinguished Flying Cross and the army Chaplain he tries again, watched by politicians and the public who will him on.

These are the last three of five million who served. Ninety years on we celebrate and remember. I listen to the aircraft from the RAF base. Another pointless war with vague goals and incompetent leadership and supplies.

Finally Henry Allingham sets his wreath on the Cenotaph and in that simple task a 112 year old man demonstrates a strength and glory seldom seen today.

November ...

November

No sun - no moon!
No morn - no noon -
No dawn - no dusk - no proper time of day.
No warmth, no cheerfulness, no healthful ease,
No comfortable feel in any member -
No shade, no shine, no butterflies, no bees,
No fruits, no flowers, no leaves, no birds! -
November!

Thomas Hood

Labels ...

There are times when I really enjoy shopping, especially when it is a place devoted to the more luxury end of the shopping scale.

It’s not necessarily the fact that I want to buy any of this stuff but more more a chance to see just what is available and the price you need to pay to get it.

I’ll never be dressed in head to toe in labels, I’d much rather select a few nice things to own and wear from time to time, but the chance to pickup a few Christmas bargains just couldn’t be turned down today…

When Cleaning Goes Bad ...

“And I’ve arranged all the things on the fridge, please don’t touch them”, K after a particularly thorough clean of the house …

Digital Divide ...

Sitting next to my sleek, slim iTouch is a squat, fat Palm Treo 750v.

If only I could get the two to produce a child I’d be happy. A phone on a 3G device which supports a touchscreen, Bluetooth and syncs effortlessly with a PC but has all the style and panache of an Apple device.

I think life with the Treo is going to be interesting …

Hope ...

Faith is taking the first step, even when you don’t see the whole staircase. Martin Luther King Jr.

If you are American, if you have a vote, take that first step - vote.

Change things.

Pub ...

I’ve always liked this pub.

From it’s curved doors, set on the corner of the building, to the things collected inside it has character and warmth, and on a day when it’s dark and gloomy outside, warmth is what we need.

When I’ve drunk here before it’s been in the evenings and unless you were careful you’d get trapped on this side of the Close when the cathedral gates are closed.

Today, we have time to sit and enjoy the log fire, eat a leisurely meal and watch the people heading out into the cold for a wedding.

Fright Night ...

Ross, Brand and A Peruvian Hamster ...

Comedy has always pushed the bounds and, once upon a time, journalism was investigative.

The saddest things about the Brand and Ross case, deplorable as it is, is how it was portrayed and investigated. We no longer have news, we have agendas. The papers who blew up this storm did so on the back of Brand’s attacks on them which same about of the “journalists” harassing his mother. The Sun, amusingly, has taken to defending Sach’s grand daughter as some kind of betrayed English rose rather than a dancer in a dodgy burlesque group who has a history of appearing in porn films. Ross has suffered from the age old English issue of Tall Poppy Syndrome. Brand was allowed to sack every BBC producer put in front of him so that the person who should have stopped this came from Brand’s own production company.

Radio is an intimate thing. We don’t sit around a bakelite box any more as a family, it’s a solitary thing. For that reason people feel they own the show and expect more than they do from television. Language, what we hear, transmitted directly to us has a stronger force and real radio presenters understand that.

Few people will win from this episode. Programming will go back to bland, safe output. The BBC will suffer when the discussions around licence fee and top slicing start again and radio, already in turmoil over the mess around DAB will suffer the most.

Holiday Reading ...

It’s been a while since I did this but here’s an update on what I read this holiday.

Restless by William Boyd

England in 1976 and all of a sudden the wartime story of Ruth’s mother is revealed to her as Sally become Eva in a gripping tale of spying and betrayal.

The Ghost by Robert Harris

A ghost writer is hired to finish the memoirs of a former British Prime Minister (a thinly disguised Tony Blair).

People of the Book by Geraldine Brooks

A book restorer is charged with repairing an ancient Jewish text through which we learn it’s history and the stories of the people who have owned and looked after it.

The Return of the Snowflake ...

I put the ignition in the car and turn it, hear the beep and sigh.

This car has been troublesome to say the least. From it’s love of eating light bulbs, a dry joint and the fun of being towed off the motorway it has lived up to it’s fickle and fiery Italian heritage. I wonder just what has gone wrong now and look at the dashboard and there he is, for the first time this Winter.

It’s two degrees outside and, as I drive home, it gets colder and colder until the snow starts.

Was it really a week ago that I was wearing shorts, sitting in the sun, drinking wine.

Slicing and Dicing ...

I sort by urgency, then date received, then by subject, then by author.

Every time I manage to understand what’s happened and remove a few more emails.

As the number drops down to five hundred I stretch, get up and go to make a cup of tea.

Tired Of London ?

“Why, Sir, you find no man, at all intellectual, who is willing to leave London. No, Sir, when a man is tired of London, he is tired of life; for there is in London all that life can afford.”
— Samuel Johnson

I’m sure I’m not tired of London but the sudden change in the pace of life, the change from hot to cold, the rain and the crowds just didn’t make today’s Apple Festival at Borough Market enjoyable at all.

Christmas shopping ? Perhaps it’s time to do it online…

The Last Sunset of Summer ...

As I drive towards the motorway the clouds suddenly break.

There for a moment are two orange tears in the grey and that is all we will see of the final sunset of this summer.

From here on in, Winter calls.

Back Home ...

It seems everywhere I move there are piles of washing, post to sort through, emails to read and reply to.

I don’t even dare to open my RSS feed reader and see how much is waiting there.

Catching up is going to take quite a while.

Homeward ...

Typically, the best sunset happened as we sat on the bus waiting to leave the hotel.

Little did we know then that thanks to the over indulgence of a couple of people we’d get treated to a floor show on the plane involving the airport ground crew, the cabin staff and a large number of Cypriot police.

I like best the wine drunk at the cost of others.
Diogenes the Cynic, Greek Philosopher

Half Day Closing ...

Every shop is closed. Every street is empty.

I can remember when my home town was like this. When you had to ensure you had something to eat that evening as the butchers was closed from lunchtime once a week. Even the local branch of Next is closed, much to K’s disappointment.

We wander around for a while then decide to find out what the strange tree with the rags hanging from it is. We’ve driven past it almost every day and there’s nothing about it in the guide books.

I’ve seen places like this before and it reminds me of Crossbones in London but that was a gate, not a withered old pistachio tree growing out of an underground stone arch.

The catacombs of Fabrica Hill were either natural caves or were carved from the hill in the 4th C BC. Used as a place of worship and as a refuge for the early Christians during the Roman reign & Christian persecutions they contain graffiti left by the Crusaders who were in Cyprus during the 13thc AD.

Today people come here to visit the catacombs, leave pictures and offerings of cloth tied to the tree and visit the underground pool of holy water, said to cure illnesses.

Perhaps that’s what Andreas needs today. “I was up late playing Poker”, he says by way of explaining his quiet mood. In between trying to encourage people in he talks politics then, embarrassed, he offers us a complementary bottle of wine before leaving on his scooter.

These are the last weeks of the holiday season here, the Christmas decorations have to be hung in the town before the weekend and soon the nativity will take place in the catacombs.

Inland ...

“You always get a cockroach in a Cypriot house at this time of year”, said the man on reception rather proudly as if I should feel honoured to be a proper Cypriot.

Up in the hills over Paphos the soil is dry and dusty and the goats are wandering in search of something tasty to eat. It hardly seems possible that this is the same landscape which produces the wine we like so much.

At Theos by the harbour Andreas the waiter is on good form walking around with a gaggle of children. “Say goodbye to Mummy”, he says as they walk away from the parent, the child laughing happily. As another wedding party goes by he stops them, getting the attention of the whole restaurant encouraging us all to cheer and clap as he lets them walk past us.

Further along the harbour the other restaurant owners look on enviously.

Meze ...

After a day spent exploring the Roman mosaics I was hungry.

In the town tonight we decided to try somewhere else to eat and the architecture and location of Ta Bania (plus the choice of Cypriot food) made us choose here.

“Cypriot meze is like sex”, said the waiter as he filled the table with bowls of tahini, tatziki, humous, olives and bread. “Take it slowly, very, very slowly”.

I think we could have sat there until the sun came up on the other side of the bay and never finished the plates of chicken, lamb, pork, kebabs, squid, sausages and salad.

As we staggered out onto the promenade (to be taken home tonight on the number 15 bus with it’s English driver and his choice of music - 70’s hits tonight, Vera Lynn last night) the waiter winked at me saying, “You know the best way to work of Cypriot meze ? And do it slowly, very slowly”

Tomb Of The Kings ...

“All the forms are done”, says the man at the hotel’s car hire concession. He picks up the key, goes to pass it to me then stops for a moment and hands it to K.

Our first trip out takes us the to the Tomb of the Kings, a large necropolis lying a little over a mile north-west from the harbour.

Carved out of the solid rock the tombs were used to bury the local aristocrats and high officials up to the Third Century and now sit in a hot, dry landscape next to the sea. The tour groups arrive and depart quickly, visiting only the main tombs with their Doric columns missing the smaller tombs with their frescoed walls. We wander around trying to imagine what it was like all those years ago and feeling like Indiana Jones.

Back at the harbour this evening, and with ancient dust still caught in my throat, I discover the national drink of Cyprus, the Brandy Sour.

Magician ...

Entertainment in these places seems to be hit and miss.

Rather like Hi De Hi the entertainers are either trying to find a step up in the business or facing a step down. The magician this evening seemed to be taking a step down.

The show wasn’t that bad really. In fact one of the tricks was really impressive. Things took a turn for the worse when the magician and his assistant dressed up as clowns and got the kids on stage. Neither the magician nor his assistant managed to spin the plates on the sticks and the kids got quickly bored. The magician then disappears leaving his assistant to sell plastic flowers that squirted water.

Ted Bovis would never have allowed it…

In Which We Find The Real Cyprus ...

Just €1.30 and suddenly we are in the real Cyprus.

The number 11 bus from the hotel to the old town is full of chalet maids all dressed in white polo neck T shirts chattering away. I have no idea what they are saying but it’s good to hear a foreign language at long last. The bus drives through the tourist area with it’s collection of pubs selling British beer and restaurants offering meals that any child will love before dropping us off at the old harbour.

Paphos Harbour has been protected by a castle since the time of the Byzantine Empire. It was rebuilt by the Lusignans in the thirteenth century after being destroyed in the earthquake of 1222, dismantled by the Venetians, restored by the Ottomans and used as a salt store by the British. Today it seems to serve as a backdrop for the wedding pictures of the couples who get married in the town.

Old men with craggy, sea worn faces sell sponges along the promenade. At the bar we choose the waiter takes our order on an Ipaq and we sit with a bottle of Rose watching the late afternoon sun and finally enjoying being abroad.

“I have the best fish and real Cypriot food”, said the waiter at Theo’s sensing that I needed a good meal and he wasn’t wrong. There isn’t many places where you can sit next to the harbour wall and watch your fish delivered by boat and collected from it by your waiter.

Back at the hotel all the large family groups seemed to be out this evening. Were they one of the weddings we saw ?

Sun, Sun, Sun ...

Table Talk ...

It’s becoming apparent the issues in staying in a place with lots of old people.

At tonight’s meal the couple sitting at the table next to us get up to select their starters. After a few moments and old man walks by, looks at the table and considers sitting down at it. His face look troubled, he walks away a few paces then back to it again. The couple return and try to explain to him that this isn’t his table. Looking confused he walks away again then suddenly realises where he is and finds his table.

Outside it is raining again, K and I sit outside enjoying the cool air.

“As for old age, embrace and love it. It abounds with pleasure if you know how to use it. The gradually declining years are among the sweetest in a man’s life, and I maintain that, even when they have reached the extreme limit, they have their pleasure still.”

Seneca the Younger

First Impressions ...

Walking back to our room this evening I’m struck by just how different this place is from every other holiday destination I have visited.

Other places have the luxury of land and don’t need to excavate but here they seem to put a lot of the facilities either underground or beneath the building. The entertainment theatre, gym, indoor pool and the kid’s creche are all hidden away making the resort very compact and with only two places to wander between.

The other thing we have noticed is that this appears to be the place to come to get married. “Is it today ?”, I asked one very nervous groom as he walked down our corridor this morning. He looked a little happy posing with his new wife at the waterside as people in swimming costumes stood and watched them.

It seems hard to get away from home here. We walked to the local shop and were served by a girl from Manchester. Even the rain has followed us this evening as we sat out for a few drinks at the bar. We already know the songs they play. I’ve not heard so much Mungo Jerry since the 1970’s.

At least that’s better than the entertainment in the onsite theatre. Two of the dancers stand out as capable, the rest seem not to care. The continuity is awful between numbers with long pauses and darkness (another flashback to the electricity cuts of the 1970s).

I put down my glass and wonder if the rain will be here tomorrow.

To The Land Of Aphrodite ...

I look out of the window and wonder if the mountains below me really should have that little snow on them at this time of year and just which mountains these in fact are.

The scarce scattering of snow gives way to the square fields of Turkey and then we are over the sea and heading to Cyprus flying over a small island bathed in sun on a clear blue sea with a dollop of white cloud nestling in the centre of it’s circular mountain range.

Travel since 9/11 has, quite rightly, become more and more controlled and subject to rules and regulations. Gone are the days when I’d wander up to the check in for my flight, check in my luggage with a few moments to spare, walk through security and onto the plane. Now you need every minute of the two hours before the flight to queue, check in and make it through security. I thought we had everything sorted to allow us to get to the plane with no issues but I’d not allowed for my trousers (comfortable to travel it with nice big pockets but enough metal work in the poppers to set off the metal detector) or K’s new beach bag which was being tested for explosives when I finally caught up with her. But a flight like this makes all the delays and checks worthwhile. Thirty five thousand feet above the earth, heading to the sun, not much can unsettle your day.

Well, apart from the Captain announcing that someone has been smoking in the toilets and has set the alarms off. Perhaps the easiest thing is to ban lighters, or the people who think that setting fire to something this high up, traveling this fast, with no parachute is a good idea.

It is all the more amazing as it seems you can smoke almost anywhere in Cyprus, even in the terminal building of the small Paphos airport. Stepping out of the aircraft (after a slightly alarming landing where we appeared to start landing in scrub land before a fast deceleration, a U turn and a taxi back up half of the landing strip to the ground crew) the smell of hot, baked dust hits me and I feel the sun on my face again.

Fished ...

It’s not everyday I find myself almost naked in the local shopping precinct being manipulated by a Chinese man wearing latex gloves but with a four hour flight ahead of me I was willing to try anything.

A few days ago “something” had gone in my back and despite me laying on the floor and trying the sort of instant heat pads only advertised during ad breaks on ITV3 during the afternoon showing of Poirot it was still hurting.

In the last minute rush to get things before our holiday we noticed the local Chinese herbal medicine shop offered massages and I was ready to try anything.

“He can give you an hours consultation”, said the girl in the front of the shop as behind her stood someone who looked remarkably like a Bond villain.

After a lot of pummeling and pressing the gloves were lifted off my back and he said his one word of English as he left the cubicle, “Fished”.

I left smelling of liniment and walking tall. James would have been proud.