How to dispose of out of date flares in Cyprus

We had found some outdated flares and Very Pistol flares on King Malu. When I say outdated, they expired in July 1992, so they were very out of date.

I went up to see Maroulla at the Marina office. She made a phone call and told me to take them to the central police station. So off I went to the police station, a beautiful colonial style building walking distance from the marina.

The desk sergeant looked across at the flares and told me that they didn't deal with them, it was the Fire Brigade. He made a phone call and then wrote down the number for me. I asked him if he could call the Fire Brigade for me as I was sure they would not understand. 'I'm not your secretary' was the curt reply. As a true Englishman I apologized profusely.

So I went outside the police station and phoned the Fire Brigade on my mobile. I was correct they didn't understand me and connected me first to one person and then to another and another and finally to the Fire Chief.

'I have some out of date flares that need to be disposed of...'

'Explosion? Where is the explosion?'

'No, no explosion, distress flares from my boat...'

'You have a fire on your boat. Do you want me to send a Fire Engine?'

'No, no, please don't. These are rescue flares that are out of date and need to be destroyed.'

'Where are you?'

'I'm at the marina entrance...'

'OK, I will be with you in five minutes.'

True to his word the Fire Chief arrived in his bright red pickup with blue and red lights flashing within 5 minutes at the marina. He took one look at the flares and said, 'No, we don't deal with those, the police deal with them.' I explained that I had come from the police and that they were the people who had given me his number. He rolled his eyes as if to make a comment about inter-service rivalry and said, 'Come with me, we'll sort it out.'

He picked up his walkie-talkie and spoke to the fire station, explaining that the Englishman's boat was not sinking and didn't need pumping out. There was no need to send a fire engine! He explained the radio call to me since I didn't speak Greek. Then, off we walked, he in full fire chief uniform and me carrying a large bag of very out of date flares to the police station. As we walked he asked me what we called them in English.

'Flares', I replied.

'Flars', he said.

'No, flairs.' I said trying to emphasise the air not the ar.

'Ah, flars' he corrected himself.

With a twinkle in his eye he said that the Fire Brigade only put out fires, it was the Police who started them, so the flares were definitely their responsibility.

We arrived at the police station and the same desk sergeant was sitting there. I placed the bulging bag of flares back on the desk. This time the dialogue was directly between the Fire Chief and desk sergeant and was in Greek. The Fire Chief removed one of the flares and showed the desk sergeant the date. July 1992. The desk sergeant was outranked, but still maintained that they didn't deal with expired flares.

So, with me in tow, the Fire Chief went to see the Police Chief. We all shook hands. Now I had loads of fancy stars on epaulettes trying to sort out the problem of the expired flares. The Fire Chief removed one of the flares and showed the head of police the date. July 1992.

The Police Chief sent us to the head of the Criminal Investigation Department [CID]. The Fire Chief and he were also old friends and so we all shook hands. At last we were at the right place. The CID are the people who [somehow] dispose of old flares. Everyone [except the desk sergeant] had been helpful and the Fire Chief explained, 'We like to help foreigners, we do our best for all foreigners.' Thank you, yes.

They looked at the flares and asked about the dates. I explained that they had been on the yacht we had just bought a month ago that had been on the hard for eight years but the expiry date on the flares was July 1992. The eyes of the CID men nearly boggled out of their head. 17 years out of date flares is not a common sight! They handled them gingerly.

The head of CID delegated the task to one of his detectives who immediately asked to see my passport. I went off to the marina to collect it. When I returned the desk sergeant merely nodded my passing and I went to the detective concerned. He had completed a full page report about the flares, itemizing each and every flare, every smoke flare, every rocket and every Very pistol flare. Now he needed my passport number, my driving license number, my address and my phone number. Did he want the name of the boat too? Oh yes, of course and the name of the boat. They had learned administration in Cyprus at the hands of the British.

I left, thankful the for Fire Chief who had guided me around the intricacies of the police department.