Radio Deejay me don Mikali... Or whatever it is they say; the Mont likes his morning music loop to blow out the cobwebs on his way to work. Ok, so it’s not XFM or anyone of note, but the programmes really aren’t that bad. There generally seems to be more music for your mileage compared to the UK, adverts there might be, but that Singways jingle is a hit in the making anyhow. 

What could possibly be more satisfying than the good old radio playlist? The Mont can normally break out into a fag in hand rendition of “I kissed a girl and I liked it!” somewhere between the same two sets of traffic lights on Makarios Avenue (or whatever it is they say) fully five mornings of the week. The watch can be set and relied upon; routine becomes serene in extreme compound repetition. Monty sleeps safe in the knowledge that morning will bring the chance to cruise past the Philoxenya Aglangia (or whatever it is they say) going 65 km comfortably in the trusty 1.4 Mitsubishi, mouthing the words “Whyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy can’t you just, hold me?” and knowing that the music is always going to be there to accompany the moment.   Groundhog Day for some perhaps, but for others, familiarity breeds no hint of contempt.   Comfort can be found in routine and one needs a reason other than work to leave the house. Besides, the trusty Mitsubishi has no CD or MP3.