Back by popular demand!

As so many of you, [2 in all] have told us you find it hard to start your working day without first checking out our blog, We see it as our obligation to the smooth running of the country [Whichever country] to keep you informed of our whereabouts and what we're up to every now and again, so here goes.....

We arrived back in the U.K to nice, clear, crisp, winter weather and had a pleasant journey from Gatwick to our friend's house in Cheltenham. We crept in at 2am, best we could, considering they have the squeakiest front door we've ever come across, dumped our back packs for the last time [for now] and climbed into our 30th bed since leaving Cyprus last December.

Waking up with the usual 'where are we?' we were excited to realise we were back 'home' and would be able to catch up with as many friends and family as we could in 6 days [Sorry if we didn't make it to see you, we are back again in a month so get the kettle on!] We had a great week, [eating and drinking mostly, for a change] and we managed to fit in a quick peek at Dave's beloved racecourse, where preparations were well underway for the Cheltenham Festival. Dave was going to miss the races for the second year running; his choice, he knows he just can't help himself once he gets 'up that racecourse'. In the end he just got p****d with friends in Cyprus, watching it on the tele instead.

It's great to be back in Cyprus. I'm writing this blog in bed with a nice cup a tea, looking out at the sunshine and a blue sea. It's a hard, hard life........

Obviously we have stories to tell about the journey from the Uk to here: you will know, from previous blogs, we had a brush with the Cambodian Mafia a while back; well, at Gatwick, we had a brush with the Easy Jet Mafia, but, by now, I had overcome my fear of having my knee caps blown off and was determined to stand up to the stupid little jerk who was still wet behind the ears.

Yes, we do tend to carry quite a lot of luggage back to Cyprus, everything is so expensive to buy over here, so I can't resist the bogof's at home. Our 'packed to the gills' suitcase went through easily with a few kilos to spare. It was when it came to the hand luggage the problems started. I had a new soft bag for which I had paid the princely sum of 4 euro back last summer, knowing it would be perfect for hand luggage. We packed it neatly with last minute items and measured it with a tape measure; its dimensions were fine according to the information on the Easy Jet web site.But no, 'Jobsworth' spotted it and asked us to fit it into his handsome gleaming rack and, of course, it didn't quite fit. No amount of pleading and 'frequent flier bull s***' would make him change his mind, so we placed it on the conveyor belt to be weighed. 'That will be £58.00 madam,' smiled 'Jobsworth.' 'Whhhaaaat, I'm not paying that!' 'Madam this and Madam that' was his reply. Determined to show him just what sort of a madam I could be, I dropped to my knees and started emptying stuff from the case into a carrier bag, the faceless queue behind started shuffling from one foot to another, huffing and puffing; but, at the end of the day, the plane wasn't going to take off without us all so they would just have to wait. In actual fact, if I had been in the queue I'm sure I would have been in stitches as packets of super noodles [3 for £1], spare this and spare that, were piled into the carrier until the bag just about squashed into the frame. Dave motioned to 'Jobsworth'. 'There you are mate', he said. He pulled the bag out and the frame came with it and wrapped around his neck. 'Jobsworth' reluctantly let us go; glad to get rid of us, me thinks, and I waved the carrier bag at him, 'Where's the bin?' I asked him; 'There are bins placed all around the airport Madam' was his reply. Right! Off we marched looking for a bin, turned a corner and I promptly stuffed all the stuff back in the bag.

Dave was getting very nervous by now; I've never heard him stutter before. 'Its fine, stop worrying' I kept saying, it's only a few noodles for God sake.

He made me carry the offending bag through security. We put it on the belt for the scanner and were called over to the side after it had gone through, 'Jobsworth' has reported us', I hissed.

'Do you have anything sharp in your bag, Madam?' The gentleman asked. I racked my brains, [I'm sure I had a memory in there at one time], 'No I don't think so,' I replied meekly.

'We think you're carrying a blade of some sort madam' 'A blade? No there's no blade.' 'We'll just have a look Madam'.

Out came the noodles, out came the spare this and that and out came last minute knickers plucked straight from the washing line. Low and behold there was the offending article; a hand blender I had bought for making soup; there was the blade. 'But I'd have to plug it in to do any damage wouldn't I?' I said, my imagination running away with me. No Madam, this blade could be removed; we won't be able to let you take it on board'. 'But surely, if it's that easy to remove it could come off in the soup and choke someone, they must design it so the blade can't be removed'. By now Dave was getting edgy, 'The flipping thing only cost a fiver, just leave it' he said. 'Yes but, I wanted to make soup....' There was no arguing, they were ganging up on me. I said goodbye to the blender and walked away......grinning. I also had a cast iron Wok in the bag; imagine what havoc I could wreak on a plane thousands of meters up in the sky with that; a plan was already forming in my wicked little head.....

As luck would have it, the steward and stewardesses were actually very nice on the plane so I decided not to whack any of them over the head with the wok and we had a very pleasant flight to Cyprus. The skies were clear so we could see mountains and seas and the land of all the countries we were flying over. Thoughts of mafia and confiscations were, by now, well behind us. Once we were over Cyprus we were spotting land marks and features we recognised and were getting excited about being back. The Cyprus security barely glanced at our passports and, once we saw our friends grinning in arrivals and the sun shining outside, we knew we were glad to be back.....

Anyway, time is getting on, the goats have just arrived in the field in front of us so I have to go and ooh and aahh at them as they will have missed me whilst I've been away and I'm gasping for a second cup of tea. So I will get back to you later with photos and stories of St. Patricks Day shenanigans and other 'tales of the unexpected'.