I sometimes think it feels as though every Brit has some kind of tie to Cyprus; whether they’ve been themselves or know someone (who knows someone) who has moved out there. I first visited Cyprus when I was 13 years old and my parents loved it so much that we returned every year until I was all grown up and flew the nest. My parents continued to visit, toying with the idea of joining those people who’ve made the move to live there.
How long does it take to achieve burger domination? 10 years, apparently.
It’s a term used as a badge of honour by restaurants. A suggestion that what you’ve been eating before you stepped through their doors was artificial, modified rubbish, Westernised for the masses.
Sometimes in life you are absolutely, categorically allowed to make things easy for yourself.
“It feels kind of rebellious and good, doesn’t it?”