Veni, Vidi, Vidos

To my favourites isle, just 15 mins from the Old Port.

Lovely bouncy water, the tourists howled and affected landlubberly panic as Joe Don Baker-lookalike Damocles steered us across.

Larisa and Ameryl on top form.

It's a wonderful island, an animal and bird sanctuary as well as Kerkyra's own holiday camp for the softie young.

During Kerkyra's many sieges and batterings, the Serbs came to their rescue but caught some foul disease and were placed in convenient quarantine on Vidos, for which they built a mausoleum to the dead and in which, for some reason, body parts are displayed.

That's why there is a bond between Corfiots and Serbs, so if you're in a bar - be it Kowloon or Clapham, Nashua or Nacogdoches - and you feel like picking on that lone Serb in the corner nursing his tsipuro, check first for any braves from Benitses 'cause he'll have some buddies to bloody yer nose.

On third thoughts, don't even think of messing with that Serbian bro'.

Perfect soir: we walked and talked, lingered over the food.

One eats with wildlife walking in peace between the table legs - rabbits, pheasants, what look like grouse.

Gerry Durrell would have been delighted.

"Ah, hors-d'oeuvre," I commented frivolously as a bunny hopped over.

"Lightly braised, please."

The waiter did not smile and Ameryl had to jump in with the explanation that I was a foreigner.

"But only lightly braised," I ventured.

Less of a smile.

We caught the 9:30pm caique back because everyone had onward dates.

I'd brought a jersey that Am' had left behind at her last visit so we were the only one with warm clothing and earned me hugging rights.

Just a perfect close to the day.