OK, the farmers are happy…
Rather than doing a ‘please stop raining’ dance, I’ve decided to look at old pictures and try to remember what summer once looked like.
Where better to start than the Greek Isles?
About a day’s sail out of Rhodes or maybe more, days melted into each other like ouzo, ice and water. Turkey was always somewhere on the horizon and the sky as clear and blue as the empty sea below it. Morning coffee came after tumbling into the already warm water. Sunburnt bald islands like scrubby blots above the waves until the colors of the towns came into view and called us into port.
Name that village?
