The world from my window

There is something very special about sailing around the Ionian islands . I'm a reluctant sailor. I scare easily and would rather be attached to the earth by an invisible umbilical cord than be immersed in the wine dark sea. But there is much to be said for bobbing gently around at anchor in a secluded bay, with only cicadas for company during the daytime and a family of five large owls at night. Sleeping by the light of a supermoon on midsummer's eve... ...and waking up to a Homeric dawn... This sun and moon, this sea, these mountains, these islands, they all connect us to the magical and lyrical but brutal times of years gone by. You just have to close your eyes to re-emerge in the age of myths. It is there in your head, in your heart. You just have to believe. The ancient, mythical past is all around us, in place names like Ithaca, in ancient ruins of temples to the gods, in our offerings of broken pottery on the mantelpiece, a gift to Hestia, the goddess ...

Easter in Corfu. Moving and bonkers. Here's the bonkers bit:    And then a mad scramble to pick up the broken pieces after the Easter Saturday pot smashing in Corfu Town is all over. We took ours home and put them on the mantelpiece as an offering to Hestia, the goddess of the hearth and home before a siesta and the evening festivities to come. That's about it. Love Maddie x