Turkey with Stuff in

Turkey with Stuff in

Turkey with Stuff InBooks are coming at me from all directions at the moment, but this one is worth a very special mention. The gorgeous and über-talented Kym from Turkeywithstuffin’s Blog has just released her autobiography and it’s got the chattering classes chattering.

This is what Kym had to say about herself:

“Kym was born in London’s East End & was raised by her Grandparents until the age of 13. After that her life became a series of disasters. A dalliance with a Persian Playboy resulted in a son and eventually, by sheer will, she clawed her way up the corporate ladder in high heels & plenty of lippy, carving a career & a decent life for them both.”

This is what I had to say about Kym’s book:

“A tender and candid memoir from a woman who finds inspiration and love in a foreign land. This heart-warming tale provides plenty of highs and lows, good times and bad but gives a timely reminder to us all that life is for living. There is much to find beyond the bars and the beaches and the author tells it straight from the hip. Get your tissues ready.”

So get yourself a copy of Turkey with Stuff in, pour yourself a full-bodied red, plump up those scatter cushions and grab the Kleenex autumnal shades. Available on Amazon.com or Amazon.co.uk

The Juggling Smuggler

On our last day in Yalıkavak we ventured again into the village for a sunny stroll and a spot of lunch. We were greeted by a host of familiar waiters, foremost of whom was Ahmed the Kurd. Handsomely constructed, entrepreneurial Ahmed has a flirtatious charm and dishonest eyes. He juggles his life by waiting tables during the summer and smuggling contraband across the Iraqi border during the winter, bribing the border guards with cartons of Marlboro’ Lights.

After lunch, we sauntered back to the house for a final dip and a nap before our return home. On route we spotted little bit gay, local boy Rasheed sitting alone in a lokanta. We approached him for a cheery, shallow chat. It pained us to find him unkempt, fidgety and broody, so different from the flirty, chirpy chappy we’d met just a few months before. He said that he hadn’t been able to find work this year. This will have left him close to penniless. We offered a few words of solace and a refill which he declined. We left him to nurse his tepid Nescafé.

Clever Bitch

In a half-hearted attempt to integrate into the overwintering emigrey community we popped along to a local restaurant for a quiz night. We’re good at quizzes or so we thought. It was like a Derby and Joan Club with a sorry collection of depressed looking people in BHS knitwear. We stuck out like black people at a Ku Klux Klan convention. We sat next to George and Phyllis from Birmingham. We engaged in the usual exploratory conversation. We overheard George whisper to Phyllis “Look, they’re even wearing wedding rings”.

It seems that Phyllis and George have somewhat mislaid their family. They found out about their daughter’s wedding and pregnancy on Facebook. The are pooch people and their clever bitch can tell the difference between a Turk and Kurd because they smell different. Oh dear.

We came last in the quiz. Phyllis helpfully explained that many of the questions originated from BBC World so we should keep watching for next time. There won’t be a next time. As one of the answers was ‘cruet set’ I asked Phyllis when was the last time she heard cruet set mentioned on the BBC. That shut her up.