The world from my window

We're walking down a wooded lane, Arty the dog and I. There's a high estate wall on one side, a long bank on the other. We crunch through leaves and step on chestnut husks. She's on the extendable lead as a yappy little dog roars up around the corner. Arty bounces, a bit, to one side, an incomer in a new place. The other dog sniffs his approval and then trots back to his owner. 'It's a lovely morning,' the woman says. 'There's no-one about. You can let her off the lead.' I explain that as we're only staying here a couple of days, I want to see the lie of the land first before allowing the girl to explore unfettered. We leave the lane and enter a large, sheep-free field. A short walk through the grass, around the bend and then there's this... Wow. We meet another friendly dog walker, who directs us up some steps and through a wood. We emerge onto a quay and I can look at the viaduct from a different direction. ...

Yet again, the stops are pulled out. There are bells, knobs and whistles, and music with a bass line to make your rib cage dance. It's carnival time again in south Somerset and I love it. The gaudy costumes, the bright lights, the majesty and the humour, they all combine to make a magical evening. Next stop is Taunton on Saturday 15 October. That's about it. Love Maddie x

There's a wedding today in the heart of Ortygia, Sicily. Women in high heels and expensive dresses stand at the door of the imposing Duomo. Every few minutes, men glance at their watches. A busker changes instruments and the sweet sound of lute is replaced by swirling bagpipes. Three cyclists, in tight, bright Lycra, do figures of eight in the piazza. Guests begin to spill out from the cafes in which they have been waiting, as an advance party comprising photographer and video cameramen announce the bride's imminent arrival. A sleek, black car pulls up outside the church, an old man gets out and two women fuss over the bride, who towers over them all as she emerges, wearing shoes the height of Etna and a bun on top of her head. There is applause from the watching crowd as father and daughter walk, arm in arm, up the steps. The doors are shut and the people in the Piazza del Duomo disperse. That's about it. Love Maddie x

It is morning on Nikiforou Theotoki Street in Corfu Town and someone is playing a clarinet. They're high up in one of the tall, Venetian buildings and practising their scales, the notes rising slowly and then falling again, up and down, up and down. The smell of garlic wafts down through the street from the Restaurant Rex. It's early September and the shops are full of cut-price summer sandals, on sale now that the season is coming to an end. A new pair of shoes is just what I don't need, having bought a pair of shoes every week for the last six weeks as a bizarre way of coping with my grief. Mr Grigg shares a surreptitious rice pudding with Gorgeous George and then he meets Eleni on her fruit and veg stall. A friend in the market is better than money in the purse.   'Why you been away so long?' she says. Back in the village, a swallowtail butterfly flaps by and lingers, lazily, on the cerise bougainvillea that spiders its way along the front of the ...

It's that time of year again, when the coach stops off at Lush Places to pick up villagers for the annual outing to Sidmouth Folk Festival. There were only six of us this year, after several cancelled at the last minute and another overslept. Still, the people from the next village made up for it, with seventeen of them climbing aboard as we pulled up outside their pub. The view from the bus was glorious as we wove around the lanes, past Dorset's highest point and then on to the main road down into Devon. It was a quick stop-off at The Volunteer Inn first, where one pint turned, quite magically, into several. And then we wound our way down to the seafront where it was all happening, including a mesmerising performance on a handpan and then off to another pub in a quiet backstreet where there was some foot tapping music going on. There was more music and more stops at various pubs in the town, a picnic lunch on the beach before the tide came in, music and more stop...

In a parallel universe, my book, Good Morning Corfu: A Year on a Greek Island  is going down very well, like ouzo and iced water in the village plateia on a balmy evening. The reviews have been lovely - thank you - with the latest  describing it  as 'Jack Kerouac meets the Archers via the Durrell family. Delightful!' My dear friend, Betty, who is featured in the book, messaged me today in great excitement, after meeting a couple from Manchester who were in our Greek village looking for the Villa Oleander. 'I walked them to the house,' she said, 'and then they told me they were looking for it because they read your book! They already went up to the Square to visit every single place you mentioned.' Apparently, the only reason they visited the village was because they had read the book. Of course, when Betty revealed that she was in it, they were delighted. 'The lady told me to tell you how much she enjoyed your book!' I hope they spent some...

Down in the depths, Boris and his sirens have slunk into the shadows. 'There is no plan,' they say in unison, sniggering behind jagged and yellowed teeth. 'Now you're down here, you just have to be bottom feeders along with the rest of us.' There's something nasty on the seabed. It's pulling at my ankle and I'm out of here. Millions more rise in a mass of bubbles towards the light and up to the surface to await rescue. But no-one comes so we band together to make a human raft. It is what it is and we have to jettison hate and anger and reach dry land, by paddling together. On the morning the referendum results came through, I was attached to a heart monitor in A&E. The hospital was full of it, the staff had been listening to the news all night. As I was wheeled up to the coronary care unit, the nurse in charge was upbeat. 'I voted for out,' she told all the patients, as if we should be thanking her personally for taking us to t...