The world from my window

Once upon a time in Lush Places, our village in Dorset, we grew one of these in our garden: It was a complete accident, of course, popping up directly beneath the bird feeder. Next to it were two tomato seedlings which I hadn't planted either. When friends came around, I would steer them out on to the patio and ask them what they thought it could be. My brother, a secondary school teacher, said he had no idea rather too quickly and a man whose wife put him forward as some kind of plant expert said no way was it cannabis. I and the local social worker, however, knew exactly what it was. I had no intention of doing anything with it, except watch it grow. And then the dog started acting a bit weird and rather too laid back for a refined and well-bred English setter. Hey man, the plant had to go. But not before I imagined the whole of Lush Places with these things growing under bird feeders, the length and breadth of the village. WI meetings would be conducted on a ring...

Oooh, it's been a long time since I had one of these. My thanks to Hilary at The Smitten Image for singling out Thunder on the Mountain for a Post of the Week Award for being 'just plain good'. Keep an eye out for the book A Year in Corfu . Next stop, Booker. That's about it. Love Maddie x

We fell in love with the Villa Oleander as soon as we walked through the front door. It belongs to a writer's family and I hoped some of her success might rub off on me. Mr Grigg, meanwhile, saw it as a place to wind down into retirement. 'We're going to live here,' we said, when we saw the house back in June last year. 'We'll let our cottage in Dorset and have a gap year in Corfu.' 'Why?' asked our family and friends. 'Why not?' was the stock response. I could spend the time writing and Mr Grigg, newly-retired, could do a bit of work around the house. Part of the deal was to tidy the garden and spruce up the inside in exchange for a cheaper rent in the winter. It needed a bit of love, this place, a bit of love and a bit of life. The owners haven't been here for a while and it showed. The first week we spent cleaning right through, wiping down mouldy window frames and chasing away the dust. And then the garden. Ah, the gar...

There is a power cut in the kafenion. The emergency exit sign throws enough light for the card game to continue, especially as the fitting's cover is broken to reveal just the bare bulb. The noisy chatter is quieter now the National Geographic channel is silenced and the card players no longer have to compete with the sound of lions mating. Then the batteries run out on the emergency exit sign and the card game is plunged into darkness. Half an hour later, as one of the card players walks back in through the door, the lights flash on and the television springs to life. He bows to the applause at having restored the power just through his presence. There is almost a fight at the till as a church elder and a waiter from one of the tavernas in the platia argue over who was there first. Both of them want to buy us a drink. The country is in crisis and they don't have much, these people. But they are more generous than anyone we know. There is a big smile from Spiro...

Dawn attempts to prise her rosy fingers apart through the morning sky. But it is no good.  There is thunder on the mountain . We count the seconds in between the lighting and the great cracks of thunder. It’s getting closer. As the rain starts to fall in gentle drips and then a great torrent, Mr Grigg and I sigh. It’s raining again. The water will be burbling through the streets of Corfu Town, chasing itself along shiny pavements and down into storm drains and then up again in a never-ending game of tag. Today in Agios Magikades, we will be confined to indoor jobs as we hanker for the sunshine we had earlier in the week.  I felt guilty on Monday when I grabbed half an hour after lunch to read a book in the garden. But, hey, we should all make hay while the sun shines. And up at St Simeon on its precarious perch on the side of a mountain, the wind gusted through the Sunday Name Day ceremony, threatening to topple the congregation right over ...

Funny thing, homesickness. Back in Lush Places, the soggy, syrupy mist swoops down all of a sudden and I want to grab hold of it. It's my security blanket, wrapped around me, as I gaze at water droplets on sodden and bare trees and rotten cider apples lying on the ground. I love this place. And the sunlight bounces off the bantams' backs as we pack up and get ready to go back to Corfu. Even in winter, when Dorset's Enchanted Village is up to her neck in fog, in my head it's the theme music to A Summer Place . 'Who do you miss the most?' my friend Tuppence asks. I have to think. My family, my friends? But, no, it isn't a single person. It's the place. For the first three months of living in Corfu, guilt has picked me up and dropped me down again as I fight the urge to go home. Who wouldn't be happy in this lovely place, this lovely island of Corfu, with its beautiful, kind people and wonderful scenery? 'It's just the way yo...