From our Balkans correspondent - 26th July 2005

"Yugoslavia was made up of six republics - Slovenia, Croatia, Bosnia-Herzegovina, Montenegro, Macedonia and Serbia... Croatia claimed the right to self-determination because the Croatian nation had voted for it in a referendum. But when the Croatian Serbs organized their own referendum, an overwhelming majority rejected the option of living within an independent Croatia. Croatia's leaders ignored this vote, thus denying those Serbs their sovereign national right"

Thus says Dervla Murphy in her fine book "Through The Embers Of Chaos"

Well, by the time I got there, Devla, Croatia was truly independent - and hot: 40 degrees, they said. But I saw for myself the shell-pocked telephone exchange and the bombed hotel. As a Norwegian lady I met said - Spooky. Looking at the walls, peppered with indentations, you realise that shells and bombs make a mess. If they can do that to buildings, what can they do to soft human tissue?

We had fish for lunch; with the heads on. And a big bowl of what looked like shredded cabbage - Roy from Reuters said it was 'saurkraut'. Well, I thought, I will eat it, even if I can't spell it.

Afterwards I went for a swim. I said to the Lifeguard - Is it safe to swim here?
Oh yes - he said - most of the sharks are on the other side of the headland.
It's just that I am not a very good swimmer - I said.
He replied - That's ok, I am not a very good lifeguard.

Anyway, I bought a pair of those shoes which protect your feet from the rocky beach and went into the sea. I enjoyed it once I overcame the shock of the cold water.

Lying on my back, floating, I looked back at my life. It was like looking through the wrong end of a telescope: everything seemed so remote, so tiny. Is this what they mean by 'putting things into perspective'? But there are so many perspectives - it all depends where you are standing... or in this case, floating.

This morning there was a mad rush to grab one of the two internet links in the village. The Sunday Times man was there when they opened up. He sprinted across the street. I could have beaten him to it, but I find that sort of thing so undignified.

I said to old Roy - I'm not rushing about in this heat. He said - Huh, you call this heat. When I was in Sri Lanka... I walked away. Roy can be awfully boring.

I rented a scooter and drove down the Adriatic Highway to Cvtat. I only went down the wrong side of the road on two occasions. In Cvtat I parked the scooter and had a Pivo at a shaded cafe. Then I returned. It was great fun.

It is quiet as I sit here on the balcony of my room, Number 208 in the Hotel Milini. I look up at the mountain which rises almost perpendicular from the back of the hotel. "Cardboard mountains" my daughter used to call them. There really do look like they have been cut out... like the backdrop to some stage musical.

Why am I here? A long story. Getting my head together? Re-assessing my life? Pausing at a cross-roads in my life? Looking at women?

Soon I shall return to English life, and pick up the threads - unless someone else has picked them up in my absence and woven them into a completely different patter. If they have, I shall start a new pattern. That might be a good thing