The week's holiday in Cyprus was great, thanks largely to the weather being much better than expected at this time of the year (late season). I managed to get a tan, and also visit haunts from my childhood (I was in Cyprus aged 5 to 7 and a half) such as Episkopi and Troodos, thanks to having a hire car for the week. I'd like to say it brought back a lot of memories, but it's scary how much more my sister (18 months younger than me) remembers (or claims to remember!) of the time. What few memories did return were extremely vague ones of the place rather than any distinct new personal memories.
What does hit you about the place is how British it all is - or rather how 1960's British it all is. The British influence is obvious in the side of the road they drive on, the electrical plugs they use, the low crime rate and good manners everywhere. It's not hard to see why so many Brits buy holiday homes and then emigrate there. Returning to Gatwick, with the plane circling forever before being allowed to land, whereupon we were able to join ridiculously long queues for passport control and wait an eternity for baggage, I found myself wondering why on earth so many of us choose to stay in this country!
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