As we stagger home after an evening at the delightfully fragrant Mrs Putter's, the road is illuminated by Mr Champagne-Charlie's head torch.
He is whacked across the head by his wife, Bubble, for talking far too loudly at one o'clock in the morning and then the torch suddenly switches to night-sights-red. Wild animals cower in the hedge as he sways from side to side. An owl is just about to hoot and then thinks better of it.
'Fancy a snifter, chap?' Mr Champagne-Charlie says to Mr Grigg when we get back to our front door.
We decline, politely, and then find out the next day they were up until half past three drinking sloe gin.
'Were the Griggs with you?' Mrs Putter asks Champagne-Charlie.
'Not sure,' he says. 'Can't remember. I can't even remember getting home.'
It is a joy for me to be the only sober one in the party, for once in my life.
That's about it.
Love Maddie x
Living in Greece for the past couple of months, I've been asked what the refugee situation is like here. Well, to be perfectly hones...
So, what do you think of it so far? The Durrells , I mean. If you live in the UK, Sunday evenings on the telly have just got a whole l...
* First published 2 May 2013 The sense of anticipation is mounting here in Corfu for Holy Week. Church bells ring twice a day as the de...
We've just picked up a vehicle for my big brother from Kostas and Antonis at the appropriately-named Sunrise Car Hire. They'r...
Oh my. Dorset is going to be bathed in swathes of light. The spotlight is literally turning on Hardy's Dorset, rural Dorset, that buco...