Corfu: all about books
When we moved into this house on Corfu, the first thing I wanted to know more about was the bookshelf. The house we are renting belongs to the family of a successful author, you see, and I was curious about what books would be in her Corfiot library. Especially when I discovered that, years ago, she lived in the next village to mine in Dorset. Maybe it was an omen. If I sat in her chair on a daily basis between eight thirty and one o'clock in front of my laptop, her writing prowess would rub off. Having said that, when I went up to Mount Olympus last month, armed with pen and notepad with a view to reaching The Plateau of the Muses and the height of inspiration, I was thwarted by bad weather. Mr Grigg and I had to turn back within earshot of the Muses playing snowballs with the gods. Huh, I thought. Another sign. So close and yet so far. However, who can fail to be visited by the muse in this environment? The birds are trilling, the sun is shining, the primary school ...