My family endured another night of coughing fits and bronchial spasms. I’m seriously considering calling the village priest, requesting an immediate exorcism. On the bright side, my diet has entered its third week and I’m surviving. I should be grateful for this sudden 'detoxification' process, but forgive my bluntness if I refuse to spend another minute on the toilet.
It’s another day in front of the television, but my eyes are hooked on the national channel, following the local elections.
More than one thousand polling stations opened across Cyprus today as the country elects a new president. About 545,000 people, a record high for Cyprus, are expected to turn out to vote; if there’s no candidate that obtains fifty percent of the vote from the first round, a second round might be held the following Sunday. I’m hoping this will not be the case.
Most Cypriots will undoubtedly agree with me that the election advertising campaigns over the last few months have been exceedingly exhausting. I’m hoping that whatever the outcome, it will certainly move Cyprus into a modern, optimistic and profitable era.
I mentioned in a past blog that it takes twenty-one days to break a habit; I might have to extend the timeframe. After shopping on an empty stomach at the local supermarket – something a dieter should never attempt – I managed to stock the fridge at home with wonderful treats.
When I naively offered to attempt the shopping list on Friday night (on my way home from work), I did not realise that the hypermarket would arrange a display of inviting imported chocolates to greet me on arrival.
I was tempted to sample a small bite, lured to the sales table by a young girl in tight jeans, and rolling my shopping cart forward with two boxes of dark chocolate.
The second aisle brought me in direct contact with a soirée of German and Danish cheeses – each one of them presented as small, creamy cubes of heaven. The sampling saga continued in the fourth aisle as I observed the revelation of freshly peeled pomegranates, grounded to create a natural enticing juice.
Finally, it was the aroma of fresh bread and butter cream biscuits that seized my senses. I did not submit my hunger emotions to these candidates, but admittedly walked away with one of each for my wife.
Back at home, I am watching the outcome of the elections, as the three main contenders battle it out. An informative strip flashes across the bottom of the screen reminding us that Oscar Pistorius is still in prison, denying the charges of premeditated murder.
I am tempted to reach for a bar of dark chocolate, yearning for a brief sense of comfort, but my coughing persists. My wife is complaining that I did not adhere to her lengthy shopping list, and she will be forced to leave the house tomorrow for an uncalled for visit to the market.
As Cyprus prepares itself for a new era of politics (hopefully one that does not conform to the mindset of the previous prehistoric dinosaur), I will focus on my family’s well-being, hoping that our local priest answers his phone and eliminates whatever is causing my downfall.
Weight for me tomorrow. Paul
Paul Lambis is the author of “Where is Home?” – A journey of hilarious contrasts. For more information on Paul Lambis, and to order his book online,
visit www.paul-lambis.com
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