The world from my window

It's been ages since I've written a blog post, and I apologise for that There's been lots going on in Lush Places and lots going on in my life. All good things, I hasten to add, but sometimes real life takes over. There's been new work on the horizon, which I've grabbed with open arms because I need the money and the human interaction. There's been collaborative writing in The Lady Shed , with my latest post about the Greek elections here . I've signed up for a TEFL course after being inspired by those wonderful children in Peru. Whether I'll ever use the qualification I don't know, but at least I'll have it. I'm going to revisit my masters in classics and ancient history with The Open University later this year and I'm going to be writing and publishing more things Greek. I've missed Corfu these last few months. And I'm singing again. Laaaaaaa! Some doors are closing, others are opening. Open me, open me, close me...

There was a storm on Tuesday night that threatened to turn our solidly-built house completely inside out. I was huddled up so tightly, I expected at any minute to see the jacaranda tree walk hand-in-hand through the front door with the oleander in a kind of Arthur-Rackham-meets-Edward-Lear-type moment. 'Give us shelter,' they would plead, as I fought off an inexplicable urge to tidy up the house before letting them in. Well, I wouldn't want them gossiping to the palm tree. I wouldn't trust him an inch. Rain poured through the end windows, drip-plop-torrent. The wind roared and whistled down the chimney in such a terrifying way that, for a split second, I turned to see the shadow of Mr Grigg and thought it was the convict Abel Magwitch from Great Expectations . I shuddered. And then the thunder cracked, splitting the sky in two after a great flash of light like an Olympian paparazzi ready to pounce on the world's greatest scoop. It rained and rained an...

Up on the hill, Mr Loggins and his wife, Darling, take a step back and admire their achievement. From the ruins of the Love Shack, where two years ago I blogged about Mr Loggins and his 'chimbley' and 'windle' (he is from Bridport, remember) and parthenon gable, something rather beautiful has sprung up  in its place. It took its time, this wooden house on the hill, but they should be very pleased with themselves. It's beautiful. And a fantastic view from all directions. And you, too, can enjoy it because they'll be opening up soon for B&B guests. (Although if you fancy tapping into the energy of the village ley lines, you should think about booking into Mr and Mrs Champagne-Charlie's, our next door neighbours). Last night, up at the Brand New Love Shack, after we had supped on sausage casserole and mash followed by old fashioned English trifle and Mr Grigg's rhubarb crumble, Pelly Sheepwash, Mrs Bubble Champagne-Charlie and I made our way hom...