Days 19 and 20 Thruples, feeling proud of myself and doing Northern Soul in flip flops.

Hello lovelies,

Here I am, entering the last week of my trip with very mixed emotions.

I’m excited to see my family and friends again, to get back to work (I’m so blessed to love what I do), and of course to return to my beloved boat. But there’s a sadness too—life is simpler here, and having the time and space to really focus on my own healing has been priceless. I even went to look at a sweet little house as a possible home base for next year’s trip.

Next years 'Spiti mou'

I’ve always loved Greece, but something about this place has truly worked its way under my skin. I honestly can’t imagine a time when I won’t want to return.

Day 19

Gwen and I hosted our final workshop, and what an experience it’s been! Bringing our Lancashire/Celtic Witchcraft to the island has been such a joy. We’ve met amazing, open-hearted women and had so much fun together. I felt a little sad it was over, but also relieved—and proud—that it all went so well.

To celebrate, I treated myself to cake and ice cream before spending a blissful afternoon on the beach with my book, watching two dogs who looked suspiciously like they were on a seaside date, frolicking in the waves.

Later, I met Gwen for a kebab and then we went to a slideshow and talk by American photographer Shelby. Her work documented Butch lesbian life in 1980s San Francisco—beautiful, bold, and risqué. She regaled us with tales of sex clubs and thruples. I thought I’d lived a fairly varied and open-minded life, but compared to Shelby’s adventures, mine suddenly felt quite tame!

Powerful work by artist Shelby Cohen

Afterwards, I did something I’ve hardly done this trip—I went “out out.” Still in my beach clothes, with sea-styled hair and not a scrap of makeup, I joined Storm for a couple of margaritas at Las Bonitas while watching a spectacular sunset. Then it was on to meet Gwen and Sue for dancing.

There’s a brilliant DJ here called Floor, who mixes funk, soul, Motown, disco, and even a touch of my beloved Northern Soul. She was playing at Avatara on the seafront, and honestly, dancing to those tunes by the sea was magical. Flip-flops aren’t the best for a Northern Soul slide, but I gave it a go anyway!

Out Out

Soul by the Sea

I had a fantastic night, but true to form, I’m still a lightweight—so Gwen and I were back on the patio with a cup of tea just after midnight.

The next morning I felt a little delicate (turns out three margaritas here equal about nine at home!). I skipped yoga, had a lazy start, then went with Anja to see the little house for next year. We spent a lovely afternoon in the village square, As we sat at a little table the Goddess dropped a gift into my lap. I didn't recognise the tree so I used my plant app to identify my gift. Turns out it was an Old World Sycamour tree a symbol of transformation and personal evolution. Anja explained to me that this tree is part of the German version of the Cinderella story and that they symobolise 3 wishes. Needless to say I will be taking my treasure home with me and using it to create some powerful Magick.

By evening I decided the Women’s Festival closing night would probably be a bit too raucous for me. So I curled up in bed at 9 with a herbal tea and The Devil Wears Prada. Bliss.

Now, three weeks in, my anxiety has lifted so much. My connection to the Goddess and my craft feels stronger than ever, Yoga is making my mind and body feel freer and I've added a cup of ceremonial cacao to my morning routine. I’ve also had time to sit with my thoughts and notice the areas that still need healing. There’s a big storm forecast for Friday night, and I fully intend to tap into all that wild Magickal energy to release what no longer serves me.

Thank you, as always, for reading. I don’t know why sharing my thoughts here helps me so much, but it does—so cheers!

Bright Blessings and much love,

Bex x

Days 16-18 Powerful Ritual, Dating Myself and Far Right Fears.

Hello Lovelies,

This entry covers three days—mostly because Day 16 ended in an afternoon drinking session. These days, I’m such a lightweight that three and a half pints (not enough to make me drunk—I don’t do drunk anymore) was more than enough to keep me from doing anything else. No regrets though—it was a gorgeous afternoon with great company.

Day 17 started early, with just a touch of anxiety. That night, Gwen and I were holding our very first ritual here at the house. We’d invited friends and some women from our workshops, so I wanted everything to be just right. To settle my nerves, I hitchhiked down to Scala, spent time on the beach, had a swim, and treated myself to lunch.

One of the best things I’ll take home with me from this trip is a renewed love of my own company. I enjoy taking myself on dates, having no need to fill the silence, and letting my thoughts—be they good, bad, or downright ridiculous—have space. Turns out, I’m really good company.

Later, I met Gwen for some last-minute supplies, then we headed back to the village to prepare. We cleaned the yard, hung fairy lights, and decorated with bunches of rosemary and lavender kindly given by Anja. She joined us later—absolute legend that she is—bringing a beautiful buffet and even fashioning an incense wafter from her chickens’ feathers.

We built an altar from treasures found on the beach, along the road, and around the house, then washed away the everyday world with showers, shifted into Witch mode, and centered ourselves for what was to come. Gwen went to meet our guests in the village, while I waited at the door with a smudge stick, ready to cleanse away lingering mundane energy.

The ritual itself was powerful, magical, and deeply moving. Our guests stepped into it wholeheartedly, and the blindfolded shadow meditation in the middle stirred tears and bravery alike—especially as many had never taken part in ritual before.

Anja, not one for group activities, served as helper and bouncer. I couldn’t help but laugh at the look on her face when I spontaneously announced that anyone overwhelmed should go to her. I could almost hear her thinking, “But I am German, I don’t do emotional!” Yet last year, in my raw grief, it was her calm, steady presence that made me feel safe. So there was method in my madness.

It was, without doubt, the best evening I’ve had here. Even the wind, forecast at 31kph, dropped and stilled for the entire ritual. Gwen and I had never done ritual together before, but it felt effortless, like we’d been practicing side by side for years. Everything flowed. We worked with Hecate, whose presence was undeniable, and cacao opened our hearts as the magick took my breath away.

With my Witch Sister Gwen

Afterward we shared wine, conversation, and fellowship long into the night. Goddess is good.

The next morning I woke a little tired but glowing. After breakfast I hitchhiked into Scala for our third workshop. Another wonderful session—this one on shadow work and inner child healing. Our group wrote letters to their younger selves and crafted healing poppets, and it was deeply moving. I felt strongly compelled to bring some of what we do at home here to Scala Eressos. Last year I attended workshops myself and noticed how much trauma and healing so many women carry with them here. At The Witches Hat, La and I believe those who come to our door are guided there. So I came here with the same trust: that the right women would find us. And they have. I’m proud of what we’ve created and how well it travels.

Afterwards, I headed to the beach, soaking up the sun with my head tucked under the boardwalk—until someone spilled a drink above me and I ended up wearing it (Bacardi and Coke, I think). I cleaned myself up, only to have mop water and bleach rain down next. That called for a swim to wash it all off.

The day improved though. I wandered to a group painting event (surprisingly impressive results) and attempted to see an exhibition of 70s–80s Butch photography by Shelby, a fascinating American woman from one of our workshops. I got the venue right but the day wrong—typical me. That’s Friday. So instead, I took myself to dinner and watched the sunset. The fasoulakia was the best I’ve had since the 1980s, when I first lived in Greece. I ended the day with a deep sense of contentment.

I’m surrounded here by incredible queer women, yet I feel no pull toward romance or dating. I’ve promised myself never again to love someone more than I love myself or to let their needs take precedence over mine. Right now, I’m happy being solo, doing the work. Watching the dramas unfold among regular visitors is enough to remind me why.

I’m now two-thirds into this trip. I miss my family, my shop, my boat—but I’m happy here. Still, it’s hard not to see the rising tide of hate and far-right rhetoric back home. The recent march in London filled me with sadness and shame. I read about the killing of a man whose views I opposed completely, but violence against him is not justified. To watch people cheer while a billionaire immigrant from South Africa incited violence—gathered by a man with a history of stalking, fraud, and violence—was sickening. Is this really who people look up to?

I see crowds shouting about Christian values—many of whom probably only set foot in a church for weddings and funerals. Do they realise Christianity came to Britain on boats, born from the teachings of a brown-skinned Middle Eastern prophet who preached love, compassion, and hospitality for strangers? His golden rule was to treat others as you wish to be treated. If only they lived by that, they wouldn’t be vandalising roundabouts or screaming outside hotels.

The truth is, the only minority we should fear is the billionaires and the 1%—those who fund politicians, profit from wars, and use divide-and-conquer tactics to set us against each other. Ordinary people suffer while the rich laugh all the way to the bank.

Open your eyes. Research. Question. Fear feeds the machine, but love rebuilds communities. Hatred drains us, but solidarity strengthens us.

I won’t lie—I’m scared of what I’m coming home to. History tells me that when they come for immigrants, they soon come for the gays. I don’t want to live in fear, but I know what’s coming. Still, I will not hide. I will return home ready to fight—for love, compassion, and truth. And I trust that when they come for me as a queer woman, someone will fight for me too.

Rant over. Time to head to the beach.

Thank you for reading.

Much love and bright blessings,

Bex xx

Day 14 and 15 involving a spying mission, letting it all hang out and inspirational women.

Hello Lovelies,

Saturday began with what has now become my new “island normal” — a little yoga, some writing, and then wandering down to Scala for a swim. I know it’s going to be a shock to my system when I get home and can’t just dive into the healing waters of the Aegean every day.

Lately, I’ve taken to swimming mindfully, or floating on my back, connecting deeply with the Element of Water. Water represents the emotional body. As I float, I call on it to help me release what no longer serves me, to bring me back into flow, and to show me where I’m clinging rigidly out of fear or lack of self-belief. Many things are surfacing — some painful, some illuminating. Healing is daunting, but recognising where we need to heal is always the first step. I feel grateful to have this time and space to reflect, and I can already sense shifts happening, even as my biggest challenges rise more clearly to the surface.

Later, I was due to meet Anja and some expat ladies to see Irish dancing in the village, but it was too busy to get in. Instead, we drifted to a bar, watched the sun sink behind the horizon, and sipped cold beers. From there I met Stephanie and Sylvie — two English women who’ve called Lesvos home for decades.

Stephanie married a Greek man, raised her family here, and has just celebrated the birth of her first grandchild on the island. Sylvie, though, truly stole my heart. At 84, she’s lived here since the 1990s, having first come with her husband in the ’80s. She has weathered deep losses — her husband, and more recently her son — yet she radiates grit, humour, and a kind of Yorkshire matriarch strength that humbled and inspired me.

When I asked what advice she’d give to younger people facing adversity, she said:

“Always follow your dreams, no matter how difficult. Live life day by day. Mind over matter gets you through, and always keep busy. Make every day count and keep looking forward.”

Guru Sylvie. A true 'Woman of Substance'

She and her husband worked for 12 years to make their dream of living here a reality, and though she misses him terribly — “even if it’s only to tell him to f**k off,” she said with a wink — she counts herself both unlucky and lucky. The kindness of her Greek neighbours, even simple gestures from old men who had no English but plenty of compassion, carried her through. Here, as in Pagan circles, the elderly are honoured and respected, not overlooked.

Meeting Sylvie, especially so soon after Benjamin’s anniversary, felt like the Universe sending me a loving but firm kick up the backside: count my blessings, crack on, and stop getting in my own way. I came here seeking inspiration from Celtic and Greek Goddesses, yet my biggest muse so far has been this funny-as-f**k, unbreakable Yorkshire grandmother.

Sylvie, I salute you.

Sunday, I knew I needed some headspace away from Scala and the festival. Luckily, my dear Anja — who rarely talks feelings but somehow always knows what I need (a true woman of action rather than words) — whisked me off on an adventure I’ve been itching to do: spying on the Sannyasins.

For those unfamiliar, the Sannyasins are followers of the Indian mystic Osho. If you’ve seen the Netflix series Wild Wild Country, you’ll know why my curiosity was piqued. There’s actually a centre here on Lesvos, set in a beautiful expanse of land with little huts, communal kitchens, showers, and meditation spaces.

We didn’t meet many of them, and those we did weren’t exactly chatty. Still, I couldn’t resist sneaking a little video of them doing what looked like a “shushing” meditation, hiding in the trees like a total pervert. Not to mock — I’m genuinely fascinated. All paths are valid if they give people strength. Personally, I’m not drawn to spiritual paths that withdraw from society. At The Witches Hat and in our Daughters of Danu Circle, our magick is about weaving the old ways into the modern world — healing and celebrating in the messy, beautiful now. I’ll return to the Osho centre soon to join in a meditation properly and report back.

From there, Anja and I visited the grounds of the Monastery of Archangel Michael. Michael is an ally I often call on for protection. We didn’t climb up to the monastery itself — Sunday service was happening and it was definately T'wot for the steep climb — but instead rested in a lovely wooden gazebo by a reservoir. It was peaceful, nourishing, and another top-up for the inner calm I’ve been cultivating here.

In the evening, my buddy Storm and I treated ourselves to a Hammam. Last year I adored it, so a return was inevitable — especially with the bargain price for double bookings. My therapist this time was a lovely young woman called Masha, and between her firm hands and the steamy ritual, I was blissed out. Naked as the day I was born, I didn’t care one bit — body positivity is contagious on this island.

The Hammam was everything I remembered: steaming out toxins, being scrubbed within an inch of my life, covered in bubbles like angel kisses, doused in icy water, and then massaged into jelly. Pure bliss. My shoulders dropped inches, my soul felt recombobulated, and I may just sneak in another before I leave.

Afterwards, Storm and I shared a nice meal in the village, and I drifted to bed deeply relaxed, half-dreaming already.

Halfway into my stay, everything feels like it’s aligning. Some people may think it odd to use a holiday for soul-searching, but this is exactly what I needed. The elements here hold me, heal me, and remind me why I came.

And just to reassure you it’s not all deep healing and inner work — today’s blog is late because a quick grocery trip somehow turned into day drinking in the square. Balance, right?

Until next time, thank you for reading.

Much love and bright blessings,

Bex xx