Waking up on a rainy Monday morning in’the’ village. Not my village but a village nevertheless.

This village is the home village of one of my travelling companions, she has cousins on  every corner in this idyllic Greek mountain village. Her husband and I grew up in a small Essex village, in England 50 years ago. We live half a world apart. Me in Plymouth, England and him in Melbourne, Australia.

For us there has been an anecdote on every corner of this trip. Small inconsequences of our teenage lives are remembered and chuckled over.People who we knew well are fondly recalled. People we barely knew are fleshed out as we share our personal experience of them. We both went to an entirely normal secondary school, not an iota of an enhanced educational experience for us. And yet every day we have marvelled at the people we met and the quality of teaching we received.

A good foundation for lives well lived.