We Are Enveloped By The Warmth Of The Island's People

 

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WE’RE back in our Corfu village, although just for a fortnight.

Arty is in kennels (she never wants to leave, as they let her jump up and frolic to her heart’s content) and we’re staying with our Corfiot neighbour, Spiros, in his daughter Marianna’s room.

Her window and balcony overlooks the house in which we spent a year. Now, the property is up for sale and is being rented by an English couple, who are planning retirement in the Ionian sun.

It’s a strange feeling, being within touching distance of the place but not inside it. But things change and time moves on.

The welcome we receive as we walk up into the village plateia is as warm as ever. There are toots on car and scooter horns, great smiles from people and a special hug from white-haired Maria.

There is a big hug from Kiki in the kafenion who says both of us look younger than we did when she saw us briefly last year.

“Many people come after reading your book,” she says. “Many, many.”