I’ve been branching out with ‘strange encounters’ this month. Driving along the road today I saw what looked like a huge tree coming towards me at speed. I thought I was seeing things, but I wasn’t. It was an olive tree, compete with roots, being driven through the town in someone’s car. It was at least 4 times the height of the car and twice as wide and very bushy with leaves. But no one seemed to think much of it – just normal Sunday lunchtime traffic – as someone moves their olive tree to another location.

Other strange sightings have been caused by the winter winds. We’re having a lull from the storms at the moment, but it was a different story a week ago with driving rain and gale force winds. Broken windmills, crumpled roofs and fences are all around. But during the build up to the storms driving became a bit hairy. Negotiating the potholes on a notoriously dangerous road that runs along the buffer zone at this end of the island takes a bit of concentration. The other day a new hazard appeared up ahead as I saw what looked like a small tree blowing across the road, followed by another. I didn’t fancy being hit by one, so in addition to looking ahead for craters in the tarmac, I now had to keep half an eye on the fields either side for wayward bushes and tress. I’ve never really thought of tumbleweed as a real thing, but here it’s larger than life. Spiky leafless bushes seem to uproot themselves and blow around fields, across roads and into driveways. They can be as large as a small person and not something you want flying around randomly. Having safely avoided hitting any moving objects that day, I arrived back to find a massive bush of tumbleweed blocking the entrance to the drive. I felt like I was being followed.

On a recent trip to our local airport for another farewell, neither of us was in a hurry to say goodbye so we headed for the airport café. It’s a fairly swanky affair with comfy settees, bright coloured chairs and a partial view of the runway. As we sat down a waitress came to clear up the dishes left on the table leaving the menu and a very large lemon sitting in front of us. I looked up to see if it had dropped out of a tree…can’t think why. I also looked across at the other tables to see if they were new minimalist table decorations – but ours was the only lemon. I picked it up and smelt it. It was fresh and lemony and very large. I glanced around to see if someone was going to come running towards us dragging their suitcases and saying, “My lemon, I forgot my lemon!” But they didn’t. So I dropped the lovely lemon in my ample handbag for later…putting that well-known adage into practice – Don’t look a lemon gift horse in the mouth.

Leaving the airport tearfully a little while later, I opened my bag to hunt for tissues and found the lemon – my Cypriot consolation gift – all ready to join its friends, Gin and Tonic back at the house. I knew there was a very good reason why I love lemons so much.

A giant grapefruit and a normal lemon