VERY Greek, very green, very sleepy. Before a little film called Mamma Mia came along, Skopelos was the place Greeks went to for much-prized tranquility.

Now locals must share their luxuriant Sporadic treasure with tourists making over-excited pilgrimages from all corners of the world, seeking to sample a slice of traditional Greek island life for themselves.

By large, Islanders have commendably resisted the urge to capitalize. Instead they tend to their organic honey, their fine olive oil and plum orchards (Skopelian prunes are among the world’s best) just like they have always done. Subsequently, Skopelos still exudes an intimate by-gone charm.

With no airport, and very few cars, everyone walks and rubbish is collected by donkeys. Away from the paralia and small cluster of shopping streets, the loudest sound you will probably hear on Skopelos is church bells. And the occasional clang of a goat’s necktie.