My Cretan Christmas was spent at Julie's house in Plaka, a magical spot overlooking the White Mountains. Our tree was an arrangement of roses, angels flew across the chimney breast and olive branches and fir took the place of holly. Christmas morning glowed with jaw-dropping beauty as the snow-topped mountains were etched an immaculate white, a warm sun split the heavens and the sea and sky were impossibly, perfectly blue.
Part of Colm's Christmas gift to me was euros to buy champagne - along with the brilliant suggestion that Julie and I should head for the beach and have a paddle whilst sipping the bubbles. Rude not to really...Do we look like we're having fun yet? Thanks Colm, I know the Mourne Mountains and Newcastle beach are giving you just as much pleasure, even if they're 10 degrees colder.
In the olive grove garden behind the house, the ground was a soft green bed of oxalis
And on Boxing Day night the sunset was so awesome that you had to shout and dance for the joy of being alive. Nature was presenting a theatrical spectacular with a broad smile and a blessing.
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