After a couple of days of cold and gales, I wake, pull the curtain and the sky has returned from iron grey and angry to blue dotted with fluffy clouds. Crete’s weather has regained its sunshine and we can go back to our routine of late, leisurely breakfast, read in the sunshine, walk, coffee, relax, drink, dinner. Except that we’ll leave out the read as it isn’t quite unbroken sun yet and everywhere is puddled and damp from the previous night’s storm.

Walking out, it’s a novelty to see how green and verdant the parks and gardens are. There’s a park on the way to new town, shady and pleasant with fountains and statues.

Each time we walk in Chania, we find different streets and pathways we haven’t travelled before- an intricate network of narrow lanes housing gift shops and cafes, tables squeezed outside in spite of the narrowness.

During this time, I’m capitalising on a temporary measure that’s allowing me to walk pain-free, whilst being aware that the chance to walk is finite, but it’s a treat to be able to wander freely like this. So we go further around the bay and as far as the larger of Chania’s two beaches, passing a huge building site as new developments of hotels or apartments with sea views rise up. The coastline is rocky between beaches and there are stretches of wildflowers plus one or two bizarre statues and shrines.

When we arrive to the beach, the seafront bars are busy with lunches but we’re able to get a drink and sit in the breezy sunshine. There are a few striped huts for changing and some rows of sunbeds. Returning through the old town, I’m struck how people have created shady courtyard gardens from the tiniest of spaces. One street has some ancient Minoan ruins, partially excavated, where we stop to look, wooed by a friendly [for once] feral cat, winding itself round our legs but unwilling to pose for photos.

Growing wild along the streets, nasturtiums cascade down from slopes and walls in a riot of colour and prickly pears are already sprouting pinkish fruits. While I know them to be delicious when carved up, I’m unwilling to pick any, having attempted to on previous occasions and experienced their brutal spines.

Throughout the day, horse and carriage rides continue, the horse clopping round on the cobbles and running the gauntlet of traffic jams which build up as the day wears on. The horses look glossy and well cared for but one I try to make friends with bares his teeth at me in a menacing way and I back off!

We’re past the half way point and heading down towards the last days. In the evening we go to the quayside and find another restaurant, where I cannot resist yet another Greek salad. The meals here are huge- a starter alone is generally enough. We are now familiar with this place and seem to have done most things, but we might yet get to see something new…

Novels by Jane Deans [Grace]: The Year of Familiar Strangers and The Conways at Earthsend. Visit my website: janedeans.com