In church this morning, there are palm crosses hanging from the chandeliers in the church in Agios Magikades.
The smiling villager who looks like an old Matt Monro is in good, harmonic form as he chants at the front.
At the end of the service, the priest hands out palm crosses and posies, but we don't go up to collect one, having fallen out with him at New Year. (More of this another time. Easter is the time for forgiveness.) We are a little disappointed, as the palm fronds came from our own tree, but there is no good to be had in labouring the point, in case we are snubbed again. We are English and don't want to cause a scene.
So we exchange kindly smiles with the village congregation and then head for Corfu Town and the Palm Sunday parade.
We park on the road to the market, just as a coach ahead causes a traffic jam when it struggles to pass a car parked on a bend. As we head towards town, we can hear music. And drums.
We turn the corner and my cheekbones tingle and I become all emotional. I am a sucker for a parade, local tradition and a marching band.
'Hey, Spiros,' the player behind him says, as he taps him on the shoulder and points to his mislaid sheets.
Of course he is called Spiros. It is the name of the island's patron saint, after all.
On the Liston, I ask a lady if I can take a photo of her palm crosses, as we did not pick up one of our own.
'It will help you,' she says.
The Liston is filling up with people, the flags are flying and even the dogs are dressed up.
Bells throughout the old town clang as the procession walks by, accompanied by some jaunty music from the band while the holy men swing incense in front of the revered saint.
I am hoping he will think of it as a sign: 'Be nice to this foreigner, this Medea, this barbarian. Yes, she is English and, even worse, a woman. But, all in all, she is all right.'
That's about it.
Love Maddie x
We're back in Greece now after a few weeks in England where we caught up with family, friends, Dorset and a book signing or two. ...
On the night of Good Friday - or Great Friday, as the Greeks call it - it is raining. We join the 'mourners' at the back of the vi...
We were standing outside the church as the parade made its way past us, up through the streets of the old town. Corfu is a musical ...
When we moved into this house on Corfu, the first thing I wanted to know more about was the bookshelf. The house we are renting belongs...
The island is wearing a wonderful garland of flowers this spring. The grass verges look like they've been decorated for a rural weddi...