The Ionian islands: a hymn to Homer
I'm a reluctant sailor. I scare easily and would rather be attached to the earth by an invisible umbilical cord than be immersed in the wine dark sea.
But there is much to be said for bobbing gently around at anchor in a secluded bay, with only cicadas for company during the daytime and a family of five large owls at night.
The ancient, mythical past is all around us, in place names like Ithaca, in ancient ruins of temples to the gods, in our offerings of broken pottery on the mantelpiece, a gift to Hestia, the goddess of the hearth.
Aboard the good yacht Nestor, named after the king of sandy Pylos, one of the oldest and wisest heroes of the Trojan War, there is something very mythical about this voyage, and about this whole gap year.
Love Maddie x