The world from my window

  We were standing outside the church as the parade made its way past us, up through the streets of the old town. Corfu is a musical island. At religious and state events, its philharmonic bands are out in force, belting out stirring, sonorous music or something more sedate, depending on the occasion. Today, crosses made of palm leaves, sprigs of olive and flowers are tucked into the plumed and gleaming helmets of the bandsmen and women.   For it is Palm Sunday, when Corfu's patron, Saint Spyridon, is carried around the streets and alleyways of Corfu Town. Bay leaves are scattered outside the churches and crushed on the pavement when the saint passes by, flanked by priests and an armed guard. The bells ring out, clang out, all over town. This week, there will be more celebrations as Easter draws near. All weekend, there has been a magical feel to the old town, as musicians strike up here, there and everywhere, just when and where you least exp...

In church this morning, there are palm crosses hanging from the chandeliers in the church in Agios Magikades. The smiling villager who looks like an old Matt Monro is in good, harmonic form as he chants at the front. At the end of the service, the priest hands out palm crosses and posies, but we don't go up to collect one, having fallen out with him at New Year. (More of this another time. Easter is the time for forgiveness.) We are a little disappointed, as the palm fronds came from our own tree, but there is no good to be had in labouring the point, in case we are snubbed again. We are English and don't want to cause a scene. So we exchange kindly smiles with the village congregation and then head for Corfu Town and the Palm Sunday parade. We park on the road to the market, just as a coach ahead causes a traffic jam when it struggles to pass a car parked on a bend. As we head towards town, we can hear music. And drums. We turn the corner and my cheekbones tingle and...