To Paxos, Homer’s inspiration they say, for Circe’s Isle. These days, there’s still enchantment, albeit of a less carnal kind. Skies are azure, waters pellucid and the days fall quickly into the most indolent of rhythms. Breakfast, swim, book. Drink, lunch, sleep. Swim, book, drink. Dinner, then bed. Sometimes, though, it seems that great swathes of West London and Wiltshire have decamped to the island, gathering in the main port of Gaios. A glut of Panamas, pink faces and pastel linen. Along with much anxious talk – over platters of fried calamari and icy bottles of Santorini white – about Keir Starmer and his proposed private school VAT ‘raid’. No wonder some wag has renamed the island ‘Paxons Green’.
The teens, however, have their minds on more cerebral affairs.
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