In a couple of hours, we'll know how it will end for Cyprus

Deal coming.

It could still all end well... Cyprus officials have said that a deal "within the EU framework" could be hours away.

Traders are optimistic. Here's the euro's rally against the dollar:

(via Bloomberg)

...and here's Stylianides's full statement to reporters in Nicosia:

The President of the Republic and the Government are in hard negotiations with Troika in order to conclude to solutions that will save the banking system, the economy in general and will bring back calmness in the country. During these really critical hours, everyone must demonstrate the highest level of responsibility.

The President of the Republic, as he mentioned during his address to the nation, assumed a high political cost and accepted the deal with the Eurogroup for the stability levy, despite his disagreements, bearing in mind the social misery that a possible rejection of the proposal would cause.

In a few hours we will be called upon to take the big decisions and reply to the hard dilemmas.

The Government has already submitted the bills. The philosophy through which it is trying to find the best possible solution, under the given circumstances, is already known.The House of Representatives will soon be called upon to take the big decisions.Undoubtedly, there will also be painful aspects in any decision taken, but the country must be saved.

The political leadership must, despite the different ideological and political approaches,provide the way out. The President of the Republic as the guardian of unity kept the political leadership constantly briefed and respected the decision of the House of Representatives. Through the continuous meetings with the party leaders he aimed at collective wisdom.
The next few hours will determine the future of this country. We must all assume our responsibility.

 
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Why do the words “soup, swoop, loop de loop” come to mind every time I lift a spoon to my lips?

It’s all thanks to Barry and Anita.

A while ago I was lending a friend the keys to our house. We keep spare keys in a ceramic pot I was given years ago by someone who made it while on an art-school pottery course. “That’s er . . . quite challenging,” the friend said of the pot.

“Is it?” I replied. “I’d stopped noticing how ugly it is.”

“Then it’s a grunty,” she said.

“A what?” I asked.

“A grunty. It’s something you have in your house that’s hideous and useless but you’ve stopped noticing it completely, so it’s effectively invisible.”

I was much taken with this idea and realised that as well as “grunties” there are also “gruntyisms”: things you say or do, though the reason why you say or do them has long since been forgotten. For example, every time we drink soup my wife and I say the same thing, uttered in a strange monotone: we say, “Soup, swoop, loop de loop.” How we came to say “soup, swoop, loop de loop” came about like this.

For a married couple, the years between your mid-thirties and your late forties might be seen as the decade of the bad dinner party. You’re no longer looking for a partner, so the hormonal urge to visit crowded bars has receded, but you are still full of energy so you don’t want to stay in at night, either. Instead, you go to dinner parties attended by other couples you don’t necessarily like that much.

One such couple were called Barry and Anita. Every time we ate at their house Barry would make soup, and when serving it he would invariably say, “There we are: soup, swoop, loop de loop.” After the dinner party, as soon as we were in the minicab going home, me and Linda would start drunkenly talking about what an arse Barry was, saying to each other, in a high-pitched, mocking imitation of his voice: “Please do have some more of this delicious soup, swoop, loop de loop.” Then we’d collapse against each other laughing, convincing the Algerian or Bengali taxi driver once again of the impenetrability and corruption of Western society.

Pretty soon whenever we had soup at home, Linda and I would say to each other, “Soup, swoop, loop de loop,” at first still ridiculing Barry, but eventually we forgot why we were saying it and it became part of the private language every couple develop, employed long after we’d gratefully ceased having soupy dinners with Barry and Anita.

In the early Nineties we had an exchange student staying with us for a year, a Maori girl from the Cook Islands in the southern Pacific. When she returned home she took the expression “soup, swoop, loop de loop” with her and spread it among her extended family, until finally the phrase appeared in an anthropological dissertation: “ ‘Soup swoop, loop de loop.’ Shamanistic Incantations in Rarotongan Food Preparation Rituals” – University of Topeka, 2001. 

This article first appeared in the 21 July 2016 issue of the New Statesman, The English Revolt