Once upon a time, everyone in Cyprus, as with much of the rest of the world, knew their neighbours.
We knew their likes and dislikes, remembered their birthdays and name days, and were there for them (and they for us) through joy and sorrow.
We knew their family trees: children and grandchildren; aunts and uncles. We’d bring them fruit from our orchards; flowers from our gardens. When they were ill, we’d cook for them. And when they hosted a wedding or christening, we were among the first to be invited.