Back from the storm-riven Med

We are home once again, having spent two very enjoyable weeks on Formentera. True, the weather was not always all that it could have been. Half our days were lovely; the other half overcast and windy, and two of them quite rainy. Still, we had not gone there to sunbathe and even the grey days were well-suited to rambling and biking along the camins verds. And there was something charmingly surreal about sitting in ca'n Blayet with a glass of wine while the rain poured down on the ordinarily sun-baked Mola. The only nerve-wracking moment was on the day before our departure, when Angel the Ceramicist told us the ferries had been unable to sail that day and tomorrow looked to be more of the same. And to be perfectly honest, the thought of being indefinitely stranded on the island wasn't really so very nerve-wracking at all.

I was reminded, though, of a woman I once saw in a pub in Glencolmcille. A local, she said she had once tired of the incessant showers and clouds of the Donegal coast and packed the family off for two weeks in the Canarias - where it rained every day.

You may have noticed that I am a big fan of Formentera, even when it rains. It's not a holiday destination everybody would enjoy, but for those who like that sort of thing it is addictive. I will be quite busy this week and at the end of it must go for a day or two to Bielefeld (not a holiday destination anybody would enjoy), but I will try to tell you a bit about the island in the next couple of posts - about watchtowers and fishing coves, two kinds of lizard and goat's-cheesecake with mint. Perhaps, if you're lucky, you'll find yourself there one day.