From a magical bay in Ithaca

The four old friends bob around in the water. Three of them are wearing white hats and all have sunglasses on.

It's a daily ritual, this swim in the bay at the bottom of their village. They chat in gabbled Greek, they exclaim, they laugh. And then they swim slowly to the shore, still talking, a loud kalimera! shouted at them by a local fisherman.

A cool breeze ripples across the water and what sounds like a tune from a faraway flute winnows across the bay as the wind catches in the wires of the masts of yachts anchored by the Cave of the Nymphs.
The clear, blue-green water laps around the boats and on the fine shingle. In the distance, there's a goat bell tinkling

I am sitting in the sheltered bay of Polis, on the north west tip of Ithaca. It's not hard to imagine, in this wonderfully peaceful place, that this is the true home of Homer's wandering hero, Odysseus.

Like Penelope, I sit and wait patiently. And then Mr Grigg returns with two large bags of bay, thyme and sage collected from the hillside.

That's about it.

Love Maddie x

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