Carpenter’s Café

2011
Maureen and Tony lived in a idyllic spot close to the village of Hisarcoy in the Turkish Republic of North Cyprus. Their smallholding overlooked the valley that has now been dammed and flooded to accommodate the fresh water being piped under the Mediterranean from the mountains of southern Turkey. Having retired from responsible jobs in British Airways the embraced life in Kibris, learning the language, becoming TRNC citizens and qualifying as tour guides.

As you might imagine, they we not ordinary tour guides. No, their speciality was nature, the flora and fauna of their heavenly corner of the country which they named Yeni Dunya - New World. That is how we became acquainted - attending one of their Orchid Walks.

We had built a reputation for being stupid enough to look after pets for friends while they went to visit family in the UK, New Zealand - wherever. At Yeni Dunya we looked after four dogs, two cats, fifty chickens and various crops - mange touts etc - which we took to the farmers' market along with the eggs.

The market, started by Maureen and Tony, had several homes and was currently at the Carpenter's Bar and Restuarant. In the quiet time before the customers started to arrive, we would chat with the other vendors and this song came along.

Verse 1

To fly across the sky in a jet is exciting
Yet, our needs can be so small

Build a little farm that you call Yeni Dünya
A tiny place that has it all

Over the valley, south of the mountain
Views that will take your breath away

Trade what you grow, you’re bound to make a profit
Friendship is the tender here

Maureen and Tony taking their produce

There to share a dream at the Carpenter’s café

Verse 2

The first stall you see is Ilhan and Linda’s
Books and games and DVD’s

Betty’s cake and quiche will make your mouth water
Ann’s cards are way beyond compare

Sue was late this morning, had to buy some jump-leads
Now her plants must really sell

Without its bric-a-brac, what is any market?
Old soldier, Ian, brings it here

Tina Pashmina, Ken the Irish pie-man

There to share a dream at the Carpenter’s café

Verse 3

The cloud is hanging low and the customers are absent
Wary of the forecast rain

Time for me to sing my song and move among the vendors
Hearing their stories as I go

Excited voices raised in shock; Kemal, “the Boss”, has bumped some pots
Invisible from his SUV

He doesn’t hesitate to buy the plants that he has broken
Though poorly placed in HIS car park

If inside he smoulders, he grins and shrugs his shoulders

There to share a dream, at the Carpenter’s Cafe

Verse 4

Another army veteran, Dave peers out beneath his hat brim
We talk of life and what he makes to sell

I ask him to repeat when he says; “High Dumpsie Dearie”
Then buy the pot of jam, and it tastes great!

A different place, by far; this busy restaurant and bar
When tourists venture from the “Lapta Strip”

Friday morning, now; so peaceful and quiet
A pleasure to do business, as they say

No hustle, no bustle - Time for news and laughter

There to share a dream, at the Carpenter’s Café