Kioskmania

Ever since a visit to the Marmaris region of Turkey, I've been a fan of kiosks. The word comes from Persian and means pavilion - a roofed open-sided shelter from the sun, and which creates a little privacy. In the south west of Turkey, people prefer to sit in a kiosk rather than at a table in a cafe - it's a whole new experience to drink your tea and then lie down for a little siesta, shaded by the slatted roof and the poplar branches moving gently against the blue, blue sky. This photo is of a slightly different type of kiosk in a restaurant in Konya. Somehow it is more enjoyable to spend time in a kiosk, rather than just at a table while eating.

My new story, APRIL AND MAY, is set partly in Constantinople in 1804. To my delight the cover features a kiosk.

The heroine is staying with a rich Turkish family. Here is a small extract describing her first visit to the kiosk in the garden.

For the second time that day Rose followed Fatma down to the salon and this time out into the garden with its flowering shrubs. As she approached the kiosk, she saw a tall form rise to his feet. He was a fine figure of a man, lean and compact, yet his strength was obvious. Now she could see a similarity to his sister in the almond eyes and high cheekbones. His grey eyes sparkled as he watched her approach.
He bowed courteously, a hand against his heart in the Turkish fashion. ‘So good of you to answer my plea, Mrs Charteris. I will not take up too much of your time.’ He indicated that she should sit.
Rose looked about the little wooden structure with interest. The painted slats were arranged in a criss-cross pattern, light and pleasing. The roof was held up by four carved posts and all rails and bars had a scalloped edge. It was a very different type of summerhouse from an English one. She sat on the low cushioned bench. He sat opposite her. Fatma stood at a respectful distance, hands clasped in front of her.