A big fat Greek wedding

So we joined a convoy of cars, hooting and tooting down from the village, out along the main road to Corfu.

We passed the hospital, honked the car horn loud enough for great aunt to hear and wound through the narrow lanes, tooting as we passed joggers and receiving waves and shouts from people in their gardens.

We were part of a wedding - a real, big fat Greek wedding - and it was the experience of our year. We've been lucky enough to have been 'adopted' by a wonderful family in our Corfiot village and for this we'll be forever grateful.

 

During these past twelve months on this grown-up gap year, we've missed two big weddings of friends back home in the UK in Lush Places.

But we made up for it at the weekend.

First, there was the traditional party on Thursday, where the newlyweds' bed was strewn with rice, rose petals and, more importantly money, to the sound of gunfire outside. And then we danced.

And then on Saturday we put on our glad rags, and like one of the Ugly Sisters, I eased into shoes too high and a dress too tight and we joined in the wedding day celebrations.

The bride glowed, the groom overcame his nerves, and our friends - the groom's family - looked wonderful. We ate, we danced, we ate again, we drank.

And then we danced.

And the next day, the mist hid the view of the mountain from our window and I found my shoes cuddled up to the buttonholes and sugared almonds.

And, gosh, didn't my feet half hurt. That comes of dancing all night.

That's about it.

Love Maddie x