We are sat on a busy bus in Naxos, heading into the island’s mountainous interior for a day exploring its villages.

Just outside Naxos Town, two local women climb aboard, each carrying a shopping bag from the morning market. The bus is already full, mostly with tourists like me. There isn’t a spare seat between us.

Travelling has a funny way of sharpening your view of home. After months spent moving between countries, I found myself noticing how strangely we talk about class in Britain, often reducing something deeply nuanced into a handful of lazy stereotypes.

I’m sat silently, with just a coffee for company.

The sun is still rising, yet it is already baking my skin. A shimmer dances across the dark blue sea separating this Greek island from the next. Every so often, a gentle breeze carries the scent of a nearby fig tree. Fresh, sweet and quietly complex.

There was space. Space to rehearse. Space to experiment. Space to fail.

Sheffield’s cultural legacy was not built because somebody designed it. It emerged because enough people had the freedom, time and opportunity to create things on their own terms. Much like its industrial past.

I had a random thought the other day. Ironically, it involved Karl Pilkington.

In a world of endless “Top 10 things to do in…” lists and “Come with me for a day in…” videos, Karl Pilkington may have accidentally become one of the most useful travel influencers of the modern era. Which is unfortunate, because he’d probably hate being described that way.

I’m face down in the water, floating in rhythm with the waves. There’s a comfortable silence, broken only by the distant hum of a boat engine somewhere further out at sea.