Corfu: a tale of two islands

In the UK it's Easter Saturday but in Corfu it's just another day.

Or is it?

There is a warmth to the air this morning, a real warmth. The Ugg boots have been cast off in favour of Birkenstocks. Lightweight jeans replace heavy Levi's.

The breeze blows in French windows and billows through white muslin curtains in the scene from The Great Gatsby where narrator Nick Carraway meets Daisy Buchanan and Jordan Baker for the first time.

And a baby lizard comes to life when an old anchor is brought out into the sunshine from the dark cellar.

In the plateia last night, scores of swallows swooped and sang as villagers sat outside until way past eight o'clock. And tonight, the clocks go forward an hour, making the evenings even lighter.

This week, the first direct flights to the island arrived, signalled by a low, tinny whine over Corfu Town. The passengers disgorged from the planes and into coaches, which revved up and set off, great caterpillars with mirrors for antennae, swinging around the coastal roads, one after the other.

School trips with the participants trundling their suitcases along the pavement of The Liston.

And still they come, and will do, the islanders hope, for the next six months at least.

In Agios Magikades, the dogs carry on barking, the geese continue to tell each other dirty jokes, laughing like drains at the punchline, while the turkeys just gabble and gossip.

The winter sound of hunters with shotguns has long gone now, to be replaced by the buzzing chainsaws and strimmers.

Locals will tell you it has been the wettest winter on record. There has been no clear definition of the seasons, spring has been bypassed.

But the island's flowers tell a different story. Something for this week's visitors to write home about.

This is a tale of two islands, winter and summer. The hibernation is over, as the last wisps of woodsmoke curl up from the village chimneys.

That's about it.

Love Maddie x