The Landlady: Turkish Delight

I am now in the fourth year of owning my little cottage in Turkey. I still love it, and the village in which it is located, as much as I did when I first laid eyes on it in June 2014. In spite of some people now being too afraid to travel to Turkey because of the scare-mongering press – don’t believe anything you read – the flights to Southern Turkey still seem to be full to capacity. This is heart-warming, as it seems that some British people are still in possession of the sense they were born with and prefer to see the truth for themselves – the truth being that the Turkish are a secular, welcoming and warm-hearted bunch, not to mention their delightful food and spectacular scenery.

Although I use it at least four times per year, I don’t use my Turkish residence half as much as I want to or ought to. Now that I’m spending more time in Cuba, which frustratingly is in the opposite direction, I don’t have a great deal of time left in which to enjoy my Turkish idyll. I know, I know, there are worse problems to have! This morning, I received an email from H, an ex-pat who lives in my village in Turkey. She wanted to know if I’d be interested in renting my cottage to a new arrival in the village, a man who is running a boutique hotel nearby. The problem is that he would like to rent it for at least one year.

She wanted to know if I’d be interested in renting my cottage to a new arrival in the village

The Cuban Boyfriend and I are due to spend a week there in April, which I have spent endless time arranging. For starters, I’ve had to arrange for bags to be put in the hold to accommodate his annoyingly capacious and potentially hazardous fishing equipment. It has to be said at this juncture, that the only time I have ever seen The Cuban Boyfriend (who fishes almost every day) catch a fish is in Turkey, so hopefully the £50 bag in the hold will pay dividends.

The Small Daughter and I have flights booked for July, but I reckon The Small Daughter, who is possibly planning to spend the majority of her time celebrating the end of her GCSEs in the seafront nightclub of my Turkish friend K, will be much happier staying in an hotel in town. So, I’m thinking that I will rent out my house. In fact, I’ve already emailed a Turkish friend to see how much I should be charging.