The world from my window

Artemis the Dog should have been called Chewy, really. Not as in Chewbacca , although she looks very like a Wookie. But Chewy as in, well, chewy . These were my best boots. Lovely.  Now look at them, along with Mr Grigg's best shoes. At eighteen months, she's still a puppy. 'They take a long time to mature, Korthals Griffons,' says the dog trainer. 'How long?' I ask. 'Oh, about ten years.' Even here, perched in our eyrie on our Greek village (cue excuse to show photos of Agios Magikades), she is still up to her old tricks. After an encounter with a pair of my grand-daughter's beautiful golden butterfly sandals... ...we've improvised a storage place for shoes. It's one of the door grilles, which we point out to everyone who comes to stay. When things are out of her reach, she just can't be bothered. She'll sit in the plateia, the locals making a fuss of her. 'Artemi, Artemi,' they...

The incense hits my nostrils as soon as I enter the church. We're at the back, listening to the chanting. The candle-style light bulbs in the chandeliers overhead give the interior of this church an ethereal glow. The air conditioning's on and it's much cooler in here than it is outside in the plateia . Just before nine, big blotches of rain turn into a downpour. The people who, seconds ago were sitting on the kafenion tables around the plateia , huddle inside and under the awning. And then the rain stops, the bells clang and the parade through the village begins. Up to the next church we go, in one door and out the other side, and then up to the top church and the cemetery. Votive candles glow in the churchyard and people peel off from the parade to pay their respects to family buried in ornate graves. And the parade returns, past busy tavernas and open-mouthed tourists who can't believe their luck in coming across such an interesting tradition. We sit outs...

We've got a table reserved for four and we're in poll position. Once we've feasted we'll be out of the starting blocks and sitting on the wall overlooking the beach. We're in Paleokastritsa in north west Corfu and we're getting ready for the Varkarola. I've blogged about it before and all the background you need to know is right here . I am a sucker for ancient mythology and the story of Odysseus is one of my favourites Tonight, it's a re-telling of one of the hero's many adventures on his ten-year journey from Troy to the kingdom of Ithaca. In the bay at Paleokastritsa, to the soundtrack of 1492: Conquest of Paradise by Vangelis, he has a massive fight with Poseidon, the god of the ocean, played by a diver who pops up from nowhere out of the sea and then sets Odysseus' raft alight. Odysseus is shipwrecked and surprises the Phaeacian princess, Nausikka, who had been playing on the shoreline with her handmaidens after doing their washin...

It's been hotter than a hot thing in August since we arrived in Corfu. I don't like moaning but it's been too hot. Some of the time, there's just been no air. The pressure's been closing in on my head. It felt like a balloon in a vice. I didn't like it. Then yesterday morning, as the sun came up over the olive groves, you couldn't see the sky, just the outlines of cypress trees on the horizon. Storm clouds were gathering. We had a quick frappe in an empty plateia while Arty gave the local cat population a good talking to. Two friends didn't have much to say to her though when we came home. Arty could tell there was something in the air. And then it came. That's about it. Love Maddie x

In front rooms and in coffee bars, on sun loungers and all through the internet and the media, there is confusion and differences of opinion. There are so many aspects to this crisis. If I hear anyone nod sagely that the Greeks are at fault ‘because they are lazy’ I will personally insert an Olympic-sized discus up their rear end. Read more on The Lady Shed , for which I'm writing today. That's about it. Love Maddie x

I turn my back for five minutes and find my husband in bed with another female. Arty has climbed up onto the mattress and is having a cuddle, blatant in her enjoyment as she rolls over to have her tummy tickled. She's not even allowed on the sofa, let alone the bed. 'Don't look at me like that,' Mr Grigg says. 'She's been so good on this trip, I couldn't refuse.' We can see Corfu from the cabin windows. Kalimera Kerkyra.   Someone is keen to get going. We stop for a comfort break, have a quick paddle in the sea and then we're off, up the road, through the village with its single traffic light and down into the olive groves and up into the plateia. We stop the car. Elvis, who runs the post office and who has this nickname for his unfailing ability to grab a microphone and croon whenever there is a panygyri, is sitting outside the shop. I wave that special Greek backhand wave and he smiles and says kalimera . And then he realise...

'I've got a plan,' Mr Grigg says, when he gets back from walking Arty around the block while I work on my laptop to the beat of high-speed Italian internet on our way to Corfu. I need some light relief. We've been driving through Europe in a heatwave these last few days. A heatwave, and with a hairy, panting dog in the back of the car. This dog, which you would think was crossed with Muppet but is, in fact, pure pedigree, has coped well, especially in her cooling coat. Not so us, though, in traffic jams and searing heat in the busiest week we could ever have chosen in northern Europe. 'Everyone is going on their holidays,' our hostess explains, as we sign in to the latest overnight stop on our way to the ferry at Ancona. 'Anyway,' Mr Grigg says, as we bask in the cool of an air conditioned room. 'We're going to wash the dog, have a shower and then put her to bed. And then we're going out for a bite to eat and then we're cyclin...