Corfu: where the grass really is greener
Potholes, landslips, stray dogs. The grass is never greener, just a different shade. Here I am on the beautiful island of Corfu and still desperate to be at home in cold old Britain with my family and friends. I am beginning to understand how Odysseus felt in Calypso's thrall. It is a wonderful place to be but not when your heart is somewhere else. The mist sticks to your insides like barbecue sauce on spare ribs. The rain lashes down and down and down and down. It is cold and dreary and people huddle in warm coats and fleeces and shake their heads. But then the rain stops, the wind dies down and the sun bounces off the mountain and breaks through onto a terrace now bathed in heat and light. And the grass is not only greener, it's a completely different colour. Nature has not heard about the Greek austerity measures. Wild flowers pop up everywhere. Bumble bees the size of thimbles flit from bloom to bloom. Spring is here. You can tell by the carpet of flower...