Thursday 5th March 2026

One of the UK’s remaining RAF overseas bases is on Cyprus, it was subject to a drone attack on Monday. It also has a rare endemic orchid growing near its perimeter fence. So, with all the fuss of the drone attack from earlier in the week, and with things getting back to normal, that is where we would be heading this day.

A part of the island that is literally part of Great Britain.

It was a good hour and twenty minute drive there, and we are on course to see all species on the hit list, so we started the day at nine, after a lazy breakfast. Jools headed to Paphos early to join a walking tour round the old town, so I was on my own, with just the cats and Dave, the tour co-lead, to have breakfast on the terrace as the morning warmed, with views over the bay.

We all got in the bus, and we drove to Paphos via the supermarket for supplies of insect repellent and cold juice, before driving to the motorway by way of the phenomenon on the mountain road, then down to the coast and joining the motorway to head east.

First stop was just beyond the airport, a roadside bank covered in orchids with the first new species of the day, Ophrys iricolor, a fine small orchid with an oversize interflorance.

From tere it was an hour's drive to Paphos, then along the motorway which hugs the coast all the way to and past Limassol, before turning south towards the base.

The area around the base is British sovereign territory, and until yesterday there were roadblocks for non-service personnel after Monday’s drone attacks.

It seems like passing by an area on the edge or Mordor, eyes always watching, though they're probably not. Past one base, through the gorge we would return to at the weekend, then past the main base, all barbed wire, watch towers and armed (civillian) guards.

We got through with no problem, but once we had bought more supplies at the base Waitrose.

I didn't go in, but the store offered lines by both Waitrose and Iceland, a far cry from the NAAFI we had in Germany, where a Sunblest loaf cost 80 of your British pence.

I'm sure expats shop here too, not only base personnel. But we buy supplies and are on our way.

We drove to some salt flats beside the base, with strict instructions not to point our fingers of our cameras towards the base, as the military police patrol the area.

On the salt flats were tiny pink dots, which we were assured were your actual flamingos. About twenty of them, but too far away for snapping.

First to the well known site, where we see no plants.

But not to worry, there's more. Less well known

We coat ourselves with insect repellant, which will trigger my allergies later, I grab the camera and we go on the orchid hunt.

Hidden in the long grass and shrubs is the key endemic species, Ophrys kotschyi, a drmatic mono-coloured orchid, and one suffereing from the early heat, as those spikes in the open were already burned.

But we found some in good condition, and took our shots. But also found some that had been apparently trampled, and one spike broken totally. There were several other species, so we snapped them, and two butterfly species, then made our way to the nearby monastery of the cats.

Cats.

And there were cats.

Lots of cats.

As we arrived, something like fifty strays headed towards us. Just as well as we had bought bags of kibbles, so we fed them. But more and more cats came, and soon they were meowing and begging for morsels from our lunches. One cat took half a sandwich from my bag, took the top off, removed the ham and cheese and scoffed them.

It was then that the next suspect drone attack took place.

A long and loud siren, signifying an emergency filed the air. Jets took off, and we stood frozen.

It stopped after ten minutes or so, but more drones had been spotted. And there was us, chasing orchids and feeding cats!

We headed out to another coastal site, where another new species was seen, before we headed to the hills, were yet more new species were found.

Orchis x sezikiana is a stable hybrid between two other orchis species, neither found on Cyprus (!), and produce diminutive plants, but wonderfully spotted lips.

We slowed to turn, and three cars behind us crashed, blocking the road. Of this, we were unaware, so we took pictures of the orchids, but upon leaving, the police were there trying to work out what happened.

We drove away quietly.

At the bottom of a deep valley, near a hairpin bend, we found the last new species of the day: Ophrys lapethica, a fine looking orchid, only slightly different from about four other species.

Local drove by, staring at the crazies laying on the ground, photographing orchids. We carried on.

We climbed the low wall to get out shots, then faced with a 90 minute drive back to the hotel, down from the mountain, along the motorway to Paphos, then along the coast to home.

We got back at half five, time for a quick drink before the end of day debrief, then drinks, dinner, more drinks. Phew.

Onwards and upwards

Four months is a long time in football.

In my pervious writing, I bemoaned the lack of quality management in the decisions and change I had witnessed at Norwich City Football Club. My heart ached, as it seemed to me the club and team were circling the drain to League 1 ever quicker.

The sacking of Johannes Hoff Thorup and replacement with identikit Liam Manning made little or no sense. And then there was the recruitment that seemed to have delivered a group of players who could not play.

And could not win at home.

At all.

If you would have told me that after sacking Manning, he would be replaced with a former Rangers manager, I would have assumed with a very heavy heart that it would have been former Canary captain Russel Martin.

I have nothing against Martin, I wouldn't have thought someone so damaged by events at Ibrox then sitting in the dugout at the Carra trying to get a tune out of the squad at Manning couldn't, would have only brought relegation quicker.

But instead a Belgian rode into The Fine City on a white horse, armed with a magic wand, and soon had Norwich not losing, then winning.

At home.

Players who looked like unskilled strangers began to gel, even as injuries robbed us of first choice players, their replacements came in and did a fine job.

Even the star striker going on strike was a mere slight bump in the road, as others played upfront and scored. For fun.

What I said before about the poor management was done without seeing document evidence, and reasonable conclusions I think. But what now?

A poor decision in appointing Manning (right man at the wrong time?) was corrected, a new coach brought in, one with experience, and almost straight away began to turn things around.

Players bought in the summer began to show the potential that must have been seen. And further recruitment in January was nothing less than spectacular.

My Spurs supporting friend, peter, wails about their injury crisis. Spurs have nothing on ours, and yet City have climbed from being seven points adrift from safety at the end of October to be only nine point shy of the play offs now.

The only crisis in the future is how to put the gallon of talent in the squad into the pint of a match day squad. A problem managers and coaches like to have.

I am man enough to say that I was wrong about the management of the club. Ben Knapper has my support and admiration. Recruitment of players has been shown to be sound, and the correction of Manning's appointment carried out calmly.

I am a supporter of the club with over 52 years following the club. In my opinion, the only manager to maybe be as transformational than Philippe Clement was the man in the hotseat back in November 1972, Ron Saunders, who lead the club to the old First Division.

Wednesday night was a joy, as the team peppered the Blades' goal with shots, and Forson curled the winner in the far corner. The way the squad and coaching team celebrated in front of all four stands at the end brought tears to these old eyes.

Happy days are here again, and I am more than happy for our rise up the table to be mostly un-noticed by the rest of football.

OTBC

Wednesday 4th March 2026

Up at seven again, and after a shower and getting dressed, we go down to breakfast, each table has an attendant cat, to clear away any unwanted food. This morning we had a very meowy ginger cat, who was very keen to help dispose of any food.

We sat on the terrace to eat, having lots of coffee, fruit, and for me, pancakes with chocolate spread.

We left the hotel at nine. Jools was going to find a boat to take her on the high seas, where our first port of call was a seaside limestone pavement where we hoped to see a Blunt-nosed viper or two. But after half an hour’s searching, we drew a blank. A large group had visited the day before, and probably spooked the snakes, as their leader had snapped a large adult basking on the pavement.

So back in the bus for a run of about an hour to a secluded valley with a couple of new orchid species, growing on the wooded slopes above the road.

Through ever smaller villages, and up narrower roads until we turned up the valley road. Halfway along the tarmac gave way to a dirt track, but we pressed on.

The road soon wound its way along a steep valley, with banks rising sharply on the right hand side, which had supplied numerous boulders of various sizes which Richard had to serve to avoid.

Richard sees the orchids on the slopes above, so her parks up, and we get out and make sure we have our climbing legs.The slopes were steep enough to make footing tricky, but we saw Dachtyoriza romana and Orchis troodi, the former a custard yellow and the latter, pink and white. After climbing up the slope to the path, I walk along trying to find easier plants to snap, so I am not concentrating. So, it should not be a surprise that when I came to a small gully, I stepped on the edge of it, my foot slips, and over I go onto my backside. All others are concerned, but I am embarassed, and refuse offers of help, and get myself to my feet. No damage done. We stay longer to hunt butterflies and other plants, before driving further up the valley to a ruined monastery, where we did more butterfly chasing, as well as looking at the ruins.

The monastery was dedicated to St George, and it seems the country of Georgia pays for its upkeep and so must be its Mother church. Anyway, the ruins had icons and shrines on many walls, the whole site protected by a steel-framed roof.

After eating, I chased butterflies for a while, capturing a male Orange Tip at rest, for once.

Another hour run to the lunchtime site, a picnic site high above Paphos town, where among the woods were at least three species to be found, as well as in the case of Ophrys, some indeterminate forms that could be a new species, or a hybrid.

Who knows?

We walked round the site for two hours, racking up the steps to over 10,000, before driving further up the hill where we stopped at a small coffee shop for refreshments, then to a site right on top of the hill, with panoramic view over Paphos and the coastline.

We found another new species, Ophrys israelitica, and some over familiar ones. But a re-finding of Orchis punctulata, a species not seen on the site for over a decade was made.

Truth is we were orchided out, and then ice cream was mentioned.

We drove back to the hotel, stopping at a beachside Italian ice cream shop, so we could eat the ices sat on a terrace overlooking the beach, while the sun set away in the west.

Finally, back to the hotel, where there was a power cut, just to make life interesting for an hour, before it was restored in time for dinner, where the wine flowed well.

Tuesday 3rd March 2026

The first full day of the tour, though only half the tour was here. But we would make the most of it.

Breakfast was another buffet affair, enjoyed after a shower and dressed in clean clothes. The hotel has a posse of resident cats, who do come to say hello and offer to dispose of any spare food.

Before setting off, we go to the back of the hotel, where on two low banks overlooking the sea, two species of orchids could be found, and we tried to guess which species they might be. Two closely related species, whose forms slightly overlap and can also hyrbridise with each other too. This would be a repeating theme of the tour.

We leave at quarter to nine, with a short drive to where Jools and I had walked the day before. Though going up the hill via a different route.

In our bags we carried water, juice and a packed lunch, while hanging from my shoulder was the old trusty camera.

We spent an hour in a field, where we found many interesting orchid species, some the same but different to what we had seen the day before. Everywhere we looked there were orchirs or orchids emerging, we had to watch our steps as we climbed higher up the field.

Across a drying up stream to another partly fallow field where we found more orchids, and some reptiles, including skink and gecko, of which we all got shots while our tpur eaders held the tiny animals.

And as time went on we climbed higher and higher. Until we came to a road, so followed that at an angle of something in excess of 35 degrees, past two new build villas, and son a leafy valley the other side. The villas windows, blank, overlooked the fields and down to the coast road below, will make someone a fine place to live.

The fields were, of course, private property, but the local farmer seeing us stomping all over them raised a friendly hand in greeting towards us.

It was now near midday, and warm enough to cause even the fittest to begin to sweat. Doubly so for me, and yest I coped, and as the week would go on, I got used to the temperatures, and struggled less as the daily stepcout climbed towards 10,000.

All the way down I thought to myself that we would have to climb the way back later, I regretted each step down, knowing there would be harder steps back up.

We found more orchids along a track leading to an an abandoned quarry, we chased butterflies, like the endemic Paphos Blue, and delighted in finding orchids everywhere we looked.

We stopped by a small chapel for lunch, and beyond were dozens of the rare Orchis punctulata, all along the sunny side of the track.

The chapel was only built in 1978, or something, but looked old inside, of what you could see of the building, as every surfaces was covered with icons of saints, but mostly St George and the Virgin Mary. I took shots of everything.

Overhead, the sky was blue, and temperatures peaked in the low twenties in the afternoon, until it was time to turn back, and I retraced my steps along the valley, and to the chapel. Where I found a seat in the cool interior, and so surrounded by multiple St Georges, I drained a litre of water as I cooled down, and prepared for the walk up the hill towards the van.

The others came back, and we set off, across the bottom of the valley, and the road soon rose up, like a hissing serpant. I was, of course, soon left at the back, but step by step I climbed up, stopping frequently to take in the views.

It took five minutes huffing to get up, but the view opened up to the view of the bay between the two headlands. Then along beside a field, where we arrived where Jools and I walked the day before, so I could show the group the orchids we had found.

Richard was able to ID the spikes we saw, and confirmed that we had stumbled on one of the orchid hotspots of this part of the island, rich in punctulata.

Down, finally, through the building supply dump, and the helipad to the main road and back to the van. Leaving us with a two minute ride back to the hotel, where Jools was waiting with a fridge full of cold beers and ciders.

Happy days.

Monday 2nd March 2026

Occasionally, our lives interact with world events. This has been such an occasion.

Between us leaving home on Saturday and arriving a Gatwick, the US and Israel bombed Iran, including a girls school killing nearly 200. Our flight wasn’t affected, but later that evening, two drones attacked an RAF base on Cyprus causing flights to be cancelled, including half the people on the tour whose flight into Paphos was cancelled early on Monday morning.

We woke at seven, and lazed around before going down to breakfast. Where there were half the number in the restaurant enjoying the fayre on offer. We ate, then went back to pack, load the car and check out.

And having four hours to kill before we were due to all meet up at the airport. I texted a message to my friend, Roger, wishing him safe travels, but he responded that the flight had been cancelled, and the information desk didn’t open until eight.

I let the tour leader know, but he already knew. But the plan was to still meet at the airport at one, and see who turned up, and some others had travelled early like us.

We drove into Paphos, and on the long drive into the town, we passed a strip of apartments and places offering “British fry ups” and “traditional roast diners”, whole couples of a certain demographic struggled with the warm sunny weather: balding men with red faces and orange skinned wives tagging along.

We turned round and went to St George’s Point, where we found a car park and low grass-covered cliffs, dropping down to turquoise shallow sea. Others, like us, had come to take in the sight, walk and take selfies. Though we didn’t take selfies.

We decided to drive to the airport, Jools driving for the first time to get used to the car and roads.

We arrived safe and sound, parked up then walked insde the terminal to use the facilities and have a coffee while we waited.

We had just got our coffees and were sitting down when all hell broke loose. A woman went round running and screaming in Greek: we had to evacuate the building.

We did.

Then when all outside, we had to move to the far side of the car park, as the police and army arrived.

The tour leader said he was parked nearby, s we went to meet Richard, and then move the tour van, and Jools drove our car out. Jools left the airport, but we had two people to pick up in the chaos, in the end we were allowed to go in, find the couple, then turn round and head for the hills.

Two drones had been spotted within the airport airspace, and coming after other drone attacks by Iran, the airport was closed for the rest of the day.

We would meet Jools at the hotel. But we would go and so some light orchiding near to the hotel. So as Richard drove, the rest of us got to know each other and shared stories, while stunned that actions by the Orange President could affect our lives.

We went to a field near to the hotel, down a long and dusty lane. Got out and went to explore the rocky outcrop that the plough had managed to miss.

Over two hours we found a dozen orchid species, among the plants thriving in the poor soil among the rocks.

As we explored and inspected the orchids, lizards scampered away, and Richard found a scorion under a rock as well as a small mantis nymph clinging to the stem of an orchid.

Mo moved to the next field and sound several Ginat orchids flourishing under the eaves of an ancient tree, as well as other orchids and new plants to us.

We all got back in the minibus, then drove the ten minutes to the hotel, about a mile beyond the one we vacated that morning. Jools had already arrived, checked in, so I grabbed my gear and walked to the apartment, not as spacious as before, but good enough where Jools had unpacked after carrying the luggage from the car.

At six we went to reception for a review of the day’s finds, and a cold beer to go with it. Then to the reception where there was a buffet meal on offer, so we ate, drank and talked, with the red wine flowing freely.

Outside the near full moon shone from a jet black sky, stars glistened all around. And we went to bed.

Sunday 1st March 2026

I woke at half five when the rooster next door informed the world that his cocked had been a doodled. So I woke, and lay in bed as dawn crept round the edge of unfamiliar curtains.

Birds still sang, but these were different birds, singing different songs. More like summer than spring, and yet it were chilly. So I used my phone to check online, find out the news, and to read about and watch Norwich’s victory yesterday.

Jools woke at half seven, so after exchanged greetings, we both went for showers, got dressed before trying to find the restaurant for breakfast.

It wasn’t where we picked up the key last night, but in a large greenhouse-like building nearby, so we wandered over. Poured a coffee, had some bran, and did some people watching.

On the next table there were four people and a guide, on a birdwatching tour I guess, judging by their cameras and lenses. They discussed the news before leaving to get into a mini bus.

We ate on.

From the bedroom window, I had noticed some rough ground, so I suggested after breakfast going for a short walk to explore and look for plants.

And so we did. Crossing near the small shrine, onto the rough ground admiring the banks of Cyclamen, as well as various peas, Groundsels, and some Henbit deadnettle.

We walked along the road, over a bridge, and I saw a roungh farm track leading up the hill.

We’ll go that way, I told Jools.

Because, on Rhodes, a lot of orchid species were found in olive groves, or former olive groves, so thought this looked a good idea.

We saw plenty of interest, and then, out of the corner of my eye, I spot an ophrys. Now, I’m sure you’re hoping for a better ID than that, but for now, that’s as good as I can do.

We both take shots.

Further up we find another ophrys, then another. I find a Tongue orchid, and then Jools spots something yellow. Orchis punctulata is one of Europe’s rarest orchids, and we find one just like that! It is one of the key species of the tour, the tour which starts tomorrow. And we find one.

Two.

Three.

And another ophrys.

And an Anacamptis, probably colina. Most had gone over, but one was still showing, although faded.

One species I did recognise was Ophrys mamosa, AKA the “Breasted” orchid. And then another species similar, but different.

We reach the top of the hill, but the track kept on going, so we looked in more areas of grass, and find more and more orchids. They were everywhere.

Bees buzzed, butterflies fluttered by, birds sang, and away behind us on both sides, the land fell away to the rugged coast with headlands in the distance, and sea a wonderful shade of deep blue.

Walking back down I see a Yellow Star of Bethlehem, just growing between the wheel tracks of a tractor long since passed. We took a fork down a steeper path and find more orchids, including more punctulata, one of a fairly large size.

We go further down, more ophrys seen, until we come to an abandoned store of bathroom fittings, benches and tiles. We walk through that, then past a helipad (!) and onto the road, turning towards the hotel.

On the other side, a way lead down, should we go down?

Yes.

We go down and find half a dozen Giant orchids, no really giant, but robust.

It was getting warm, so we walk back to the road, hugging the edge, we walk back to the junction and the hotel, avoided by cars flying by.

We thought we needed supplies, so drove to the village to the market. Jools went in and bought beer, cider, crisps, filled rolls, peanuts, Pringles, and Ritz crackers. Its three minutes to dive back, so once inside we crack open a cold can of beer/cider, then sit on the rooftop patio to drink and soak up more rays.

The car said it was 22 degrees, it didn’t feel that warm with the breeze, but nice enough.

Nice enough for Jools to try the hot tub, which wasn’t so hot after all.

We fritter away the afternoon as the sky clouded over, and the sinking sun caused the chairs outside to be covered in shadow. We went inside to try to keep warm.

I kept up with the football on the BBC website, so with the two hour time difference, when those games finished at four in the UK, it was six here. I had looked online, and the best place nearby to eat at a beach bar place.

Another three minute to drive into the village, parking beside the beach where the waves laped against the narrow sandy beach.

We go in and order grilled halumi with fig jam, also some garlic bread. Followed by king prawns in a white wine and garlic sauce. This also came with a platter of frites, which we also made disappear.

While we were eating, darkness fell, revealing the nearly full moon hanging high above us. We drove back to the hotel, for more of the same.

Saturday 28th February 2026

This will be important later. Back when we planned the trip, I told Jen that she needed to renew her passport due to rules meaning that, in general, passports were only valid from ten years from issue, and hers had ten years nine months, it might be a problem, I said.

I checked and it’s not a problem she said.

OK, I said.

So anyway. Saturday morning, we were up at six,, giving us just over two hours to get ready, load the car and drink coffee. This we did, easier without four demanding cats, obviously.

The car was loaded, stuff checked and rechecked. We left the house, locked the door. And we were on our way.

To Whitfield to pick up Jen and her case.

We squeezed that in, and Jen. So off we went on a jolly boy’s outing up the M20 to Gatwick.

No real issues, just a pleasant Saturday morning, cruising up past Ashford and Maidstone, then along the M26 westwards. And after joining the M25, along two junctions then south towards Brighton to Gatwick.

It all went so smoothly. We found the parking garage, the car was logged in, and from there it was just a five minute walk to departures, up to travelators to the departures hall, where before joining the queue to check our bags in, our passports and boarding passes were checked.

I went first and was OK.

Jools went next and was also OK.

Jen, however, caused frowns.

The ten years vadility on her passport expired in January, and there was no way was she getting on the flight with that passort.

Bugger.

And I had told her.

Months ago.

And she had time to get it updated, we would have helped to do the online application, but she said it was OK.

I had to go as I was meeting the tour, so checked my bag in. Jen was told she could go home, apply in person to the passport office on Monday or Tuesday and travel the next day. But she said no.

I took her to the railway station, told her to buy a ticket to Dover, and to booard a northbound train to St Pancras.

And she was gone trying not to show emotion.

So Jools checked her bag, and we went up to security. Just the two of us.

Once through, we found a place for breakfast, ordered coffees and a sandwich, which along with an ice cream and second coffee and spritzer, cost £69!

Eeek, indeed.

We had hand hour to kill, so went to the restrooms, once out the gate was called, so we walked the fifteen minutes to that, and waited some more.

There was the rush to board, but we had small bags so would have them at our feet, as Easyjet charges extra for everything. We were lucky to get air free.

We waited to get on, shuffling along to row 28, and squeezing into our seats. Easyjet is cheap, functional, but you have to pay for anything other than a seat. Cabin bag, check in bag, drink, food; all extra.

We bought sandwiches from Boots, and drink. So settled in and waited for take off.

Which was on time. Into the air we leapt, and south-eastwards we flew.

No in-flight entrainment. No interactive map. Drink and food extra.

We flew over the Alps.

Over Greece. The sun sank low, there was a golden dusk.

It got dark.

We flew over diamond lit islands in a sea of inky black.

I reviewed videos and photos from India. That took over an hour, but time dragged. After four hours, the plane began to drop, and preparations for landing were made.

Paphos is a small airport. We bounced down, the engines roared to slow us down, we lurched onto the taxiway, and to the pan.

We were one of the first off, so into the terminal to have our biometrics taken, passport checked, then to baggage reclain, where are we both visited the restroom, our bags arrived, so we could go through customs, and a short wait at the car hire place, got the keys for a Fiat thing.

Out into the night, where the guy in a hut gave us our keys. We loaded up, and Jools programmed her phone to the hotel: an hour away.

So off we went.

Put of the airport, down the motorway, the along main roads over and through hills, small sleepy towns and villages, following the instructions from the phone.

We came to the town where the hotel was, along the beach, but the sea was hidden in the blackest of nights, and out the other side, up a hill, and there it was.

We found a place to park, got out the cases and tried to find reception to check in. It was mostly in darkness, but after ten minutes of dead ends, we found the night porter, and he directed us after giving us the keys, to our apartment, on the first floor on one of six identical blocks.

It had two double bedrooms; a kitchenette-cum-living room; a bathroom, a terrace which had a spa bath. And above, the majesty of creation and a nearly full moon. We took off our shoes and stood on the cold marble, looking up.

What a day.

The restaurant was closed.

The bar was closed.

We were too pooped to find a late night market, so with a bottle of water ech to drink, we slumped into the sofa.

Norwich had won. Again. And so are pretty much safe. Beating Leicester 2-0 away. Despite 16 first team injuries.