This is the woman, too, who tells me (after we’ve established our mutual love for the Greek island) that Mykonos’s famous pelican, which struts round the cobbled streets as a sort of tourist attraction, is sadly no longer with us. “Joo didn’t know?” she asks, those sphinxy, furry-lashed eyes widening in droll surprise. “Well it’s because someone f***ed it, poor thing, and I’ve never been able to get over it. Maybe you shouldn’t print that?”
