Eros was a Greek

She still had hold of my hand; she gave it a squeeze. "I think I like holding hands with you. I could get quite used to it. I feel instinctively that you aren't a proprietorial kind of guy."

"Tell me about the time you might have liked to hold hands."

"This might take a bit of time. So that I can get my thoughts together and address you with deference to your literary credentials, I suggest a bit of silence. And we can put on a bit of mileage."

We walked through this glorious scenery in silence. I was looking out for birds, but as is often the case in deep gorges, they were scarce. I was looking for dippers and wagtails by the river, and for kestrels and rock nuthatches, possibly a peregrine falcon, around the cliffs.

We arrived at the 'New' Monastery and could see the old monastery below, almost stuck to the cliff. We had left the Dimitsana water museum at about ten o'clock, and it was now 12.15, so were able to enter the monastery and see the 17^th century decorations within and speak with the monk caretaker.

We sat down on the ground in the shade of a tree and pulled out our fruit and water, and enjoyed the refreshment, as it was very warm.

"That monk - now he was genuinely a gentle soul," I said.

"Yes, I see what you mean. You can't imagine that anything could pull him out of his quiet calm."

"Do you feel you want to go on with your story now?"

"Yes, o.k., but let's get walking again."

We got to our feet, pulled on our sun hats, and set off.

"I'll go back to the time when Martin and I parted company. I think it was 2001, year after the millenium. It wasn't acrimonious. He was a biophysicist, and he'd been head-hunted by the MOD establishment at Porton Down. The girls were 11 and 13 and didn't seem much phased by it. Martin came back fortnightly at weekends and stayed in college guest accommodation. They were pleased to keep up the contact, for research sponsorship reasons. We always had at least one meal all together over a weekend. For the next seven years, until Mel left to go to college, I was working flat out really -- home and job. I didn't have much time or inclination for socialising beyond a few long-term friends. I could have dated a few of the guys in college, but I didn't have time or energy, and anyway it seemed like a bad idea to mix work and personal relationships."

"It generally seems to be a dodgy deal, judging by the few that I have known getting involved that way," I said.

"Once I was on my own I started to think differently. I was only 39, and I thought I had missed out on a something. I went a bit wild for a few years, but then I realised that I was getting a bit of a reputation. The culmination of that period was when, very wickedly, I started an affair with one of my students. He was, admittedly a post-grad, but even so he was only 22, and very inexperienced. He was an attractive young man, highly intelligent, but he'd never managed to get his love life together. He was lacking in social skills and self-confidence. But I saw a spark of independent thought in him and a reluctance to accept almost anything without question. I'd had a number of unsatisfactory experiences with men with high expectations of what a woman could be expected to provide, but low input."

"I think I see where this is going: you thought you could boost his self-confidence, and in return he could help yours by asking little while unself-consciously giving a lot?" I said.

"You're right, and I am proud to say it worked. I coaxed him initially, but then we found the same wavelength and enjoyed some outrageously good sex. There was one problem: I fell in love with him. To think of a permanent relationship was impossible. Apart from the long-term implications of a 17-year difference, I didn't want any more children, he did. There was also the small matter that if I was called out for having an affair with a student I would probably lose my job. I was at the height of my career, such as it is, and his hadn't even begun. His friends were all students, and mine were not. Besides which I have always thought that expecting to 'fall in love' for a lifetime goes against all logic and empirical data."

I couldn't resist throwing in "No-one wants to believe that -- but I do! So what did you do about it?"

"I waited until the end of a term and then explained what I have just explained to you. He was upset, obviously. Just to make sure (of myself as much as him) I arranged a four-week research sabbatical in London to coincide with the beginning of the next term. That meant we would be separated for more nearly four months."

"Was it enough?"

"It was. I had made a condition that we neither of us attempted to contact one another. When I came back he'd got a new girlfriend, and they were obviously enjoying each other. I felt an unholy mixture of sadness, jealousy and elation -- but job done!"

"Was that when you decided to change jobs?"

"Yes, and that was when I decided to re-assess my behaviour. I won't pretend to have been a model of purity since then, but in all honesty nothing that I experienced after Stuart, my dear boy student, came near to having the excitement and freshness of that time with him. For the last four years I have been enjoying celibacy. I have good friends to keep me intellectually, and emotionally engaged, and myself, with help from some mechanical friends, to keep me reasonably satisfied physically."

There was a long pause. Well, she had needed time to prepare her story and I think I was entitled to time to think out my response. I was beginning to feel my age: the combination of the ascent and the heat was quite testing.

"Are you alright?" Sophie asked.

"Yes, but I need to pace it so that I can continue to enjoy myself. And I may request another pause before we get back."

"No problem. Did my tale of misdemeanours leave you speechless?"

"Not quite, but you've had quite a bit more experience than I have! Your time with the young man is interesting. I know that it's quite a common fantasy for men to be seduced by a much older woman, but it has occurred to me that women may have just as much to gain from such a relationship. There is still this feeling amongst men of all sorts that their sexual role should be one of dominance and control. Unfortunately, many women share that view, which leaves those that don't struggling to find compatibility." I stopped talking and looked at her.

"Spot on," she said, returning my gaze. "That's why I still look back on that few months of loving Stuart as the most successful and satisfying bond I've had. I think the absence of any permanent attachment since is because I've looked to find the same thing in my peer group -- and failed."

I had noticed that we were holding hands again, so I could give hers a squeeze. I looked at her. She looked back. We stopped walking, drew closer. A gentle hug and a quiet kiss followed. Just a soft pressure, lips on lips. Our sunhats rather got in the way.

"I sense that you are still raw, so I want to take things carefully; but I give you advance notice that I want you, and I shall daydream of having you slide inside me until it's the right time, for both of us, to come together and even cum together!" She said all this with a wonderful warm smile, which all but melted me.

We completed our walk and strolled back to the guesthouse. Kalika was in the bar, washing glasses. As it was about 3.30 much of the Mediterranean world was 'resting'. It always amused me this pretence of the need to recuperate. If you've ever been in an apartment in this part of the world at this time of day, particularly one that overlooked an enclosed courtyard, it can seem as if you have intruded on a competition to register the noisiest orgasm. So restful!

"Kalispera Kalika."

"Ah my two friends. You have been friendly together this day?"

"Oh yes, we have been quite friendly, and walked to Nea Filosofou. Can you provide a little refreshment Kalika? Just a beer with bread and cheese would be fine, or tyropites or koulourakia," Sophie asked, some in Greek and some English.

"I will pour you beers and find snack in short time," replied our jovial hostess. "I think you sleep well tonight?" she asked with a mischievous grin as she poured the drinks.

"Oh yes, we will sleep very well -- I have lovely large bed, and he tells me he has too!" said Sophie. Kalika roared with laughter.

"You two seem to have some sort of conspiracy going on," I said.

Kalika was back again, as she said 'in short time', with bread and feta cheese and a bunch of grapes. We ate and drank in silence. When we were finished Sophie suggested that we retire to our respective rooms for an hour, and then have a proper look round the village. Seemed a good idea to me, so that's what we did.

I wrote in my notebook, then fell asleep for half an hour, which was refreshing, and went downstairs to find Sophie, with thoughts about where this relationship was going churning through my head. I was very attracted to the idea of her as a lover, but I felt that somehow it needed our first joining together to be a noteworthy event, because both of us had been celibate for some years. Even as I had this thought an idea was forming. If this idea came together as I imagined it might, it would be something that we would not be able to forget.

It was a pleasure to walk around the village in the late afternoon sun. The village is spread over the side of a hill, from contours 800 to 980m. In plan it is a dumbbell shaped, the narrow part being a dip between two peaks. Despite the small and shrinking population (less than 400 in 2011) the buildings seemed in good repair. No doubt tourism enables the village to survive: once it was gunpowder mills, but now it is tavernas and cafés. The stone-built houses and small commercial buildings are the restored survivors of many generations, from 17thC to present day, but possibly the majority are 100-200 years old. The overall impression is very homogenous, well cared for, and picturesque in its narrow winding streets.

During our ramble we looked at other restaurants but decided to return to our previous night's taverna. After an hour or so of wandering, climbing to the southern end to pick up the view down over the Megalopolis plain and the Taygetus mountains, we came back down and sat at a table in front of the taverna.

When the waiter appeared and greeted us like important friends I ordered some water, bread and wine, and told him we would order dinner later.

"I've been thinking about what we might do next. Have you?" I asked.

"I have, but beyond hoping that you would want to stay together, I hadn't got very far," she replied.

"We've got two cars, which is a bit of a nuisance. Mine comes from Europcar, and they have a depot in Tripoli, where maybe I could leave it. Did you come from Kefalonia or the dreaded Zante?" I asked.

"I came from Kefalonia, but I got the car from Europcar, so we have a choice as to which to leave in Tripoli."

"Great. We can decide which one when we get there. Then I mentioned to you Perachora, and I'd like to take you there. Do you know a good place to stay in the Corinth area or Argos, or Naflplio?"

"I don't. But I do know the area a bit. I can use my laptop to see if I can find something for say three nights? Would an apartment or studio suit -- they are remarkably cheap still?"

"That sounds perfect. There's enough to see and do within easy reach isn't there?"

"Gosh yes, masses. And we'll need lots of play time too!"

We had another really nice meal -- this time I had fried zucchini with tzatziki, and a Greek salad. Sophie had chicken souvlaki.

"Can we talk for a moment about tonight's sleeping arrangements? I have a feeling that you and Kalika have an agenda?" I said.

"Not at all: it's just a bit of harmless fun. She will tease you. But I said earlier on that I wanted to take it at your pace. If it doesn't feel right to lie together tonight that's fine by me. I understand."

I stretched out to put a hand on hers. "I'm grateful. It feels as though we might interlock like adjacent pieces of a jigsaw puzzle, and this is a source of amazement. I will do my best to make tomorrow unforgettable!"

"I don't doubt it," she said with a broad grin.

We sat for some time, chatting about aspects of our lives and particularly our children. We both expressed gratitude and relief that none of the five had fallen by the tracks or become unreachable. We recognised the difficulties of coming of age at any time, but particularly now. We sneaked a glimpse of each other's politics; enough to know that there were no diametrically opposed positions hidden in there. In fact, after nearly 35 years messing about around politics and politicians, I am usually quite quick at detecting rubbing points.

After dessert, and coffee, and a shared ouzo, and more chat, we wished our charming waiter 'kalispera'. Ambling down the road it seemed very natural to put arms round each other.

"Did your wife die at home or in hospital or hospice?" Sophie enquired very softly.

"Diana died in a hospice for the last week, and at her own request. Before that at home, and before that in hospital until they decided they could do no more for her."

"Lots of support?" she asked.

"Brilliant. Fantastic District Nurses, lots of kit including an air bed, frequent GP visits, and two nights a week I could sleep through because a trained volunteer from the hospice came to sit in. The hospice was great too."

Her arm tightened around me. Continuing her soft voice she said: "Forgive me for intruding, but I wanted to know where some of your feelings were coming from. Empathy is such a vital bit of human equipment, but it needs to be informed."

"It's such a comfort to have someone objective who wants to feel that empathy. I don't want to dwell on these things, for my own and other peoples' sakes, but trying to forget about them just doesn't work either," I replied.

"We've had fun today, and we're going to continue to have fun; and you are allowed to. In fact it's essential for you, and no dead person is ever recorded as having objected to their partner having fun. It's really only the bystanders who think it unseemly, and that's because they feel guilty at not being able to help." Sophie's were wise words, I thought.

"You've thought about this. You must have your own experience?" I asked.

"Yes I have, and If you wonder why I have such particular views it's because my very dear mother died some years back at a similar age to your wife. I didn't really understand my own or other peoples' behaviour at first, and then I started to try to piece together what had happened -- like a typical academic, gathering information, sifting the relevant from the irrelevant, and coming to a few conclusions, some of which I have just shared with you."             

We had come to the guesthouse, held hands for a moment and walked in. No sign of Kalika, so we quietly and swiftly made for the stairs.

"There's just one thing I have to do before we part company for the night," whispered Sophie as we stood outside the door to her room. She put her hands under my arms and pulled me towards her, looked in my eyes and kissed me. This time it was less polite, more passionate. Lips, tongues, teeth all engaged, and saliva was generously exchanged. I put my hands on her buttocks, and my fingers sent a message of desire, but before I could change my mind and follow her into the bedroom, she peeled away, blew me another kiss, and disappeared through the door.

*

Next morning we met for breakfast, greeted the other guests, and sat down to await a grilling from Kalika. When she appeared Sophie immediately started addressing her in Greek. Kalika laughed and put a hand on Sophie's shoulder, then looked at me and winked. I winked back. What else could I do? We ordered and when she had gone I asked what Sophie had said to her.

"I said 'before you ask, the answer is no. I have reason for optimism, but you mustn't tease him too much.' I couldn't think of a word for 'tease', so I said 'laugh'. She seemed to understand!"

"Thank you dear. Clearly I no longer have a vacancy for a minder." I said, mock serious, then "did you have a restful night?"

"I had a very er... involving night thank you. And the answer to your next question is 'none of your business -- for now'."

"So, we are agreed that we will find the car depot and leave one car in Tripoli? I've looked at the weather and it seems fine again, so I'd then like to go on to Perachora, if only to get this mental image tested against reality."

Sophie's response was to tell me that she had sneaked a look at some photos of the Heraion and wanted to see it as much as I did. "I've also been trawling the net for some accommodation. Surprisingly, there seems to be quite a bit. I've booked three nights in a lovely looking apartment in old Nafplion. I think it will suit us at less than £100 a night. It's on a no cancellation fee booking, so if you don't like it we can find something else."

"I'll trust you and look forward to it."

We ate our breakfast and packed our respective cars. They were both the same, so it wouldn't make any difference which we abandoned.

We settled up our bills with Kalika, who seemed genuinely sad to see us go. She came round from behind her counter and embraced us both, wishing us 'God's blessing and happiness.'

Outside we had a conversation about finding the Europcar location in Tripoli. I had brought a sat-nav with me, so I said I would lead and take responsibility for getting lost. I programmed the sat-nav and we set off. The drive to Tripoli along the EO74 is exceptionally beautiful, with fine views either way. It took a bit over an hour, and the sat-nav was accurate enough to guide us in Tripoli to find the Europcar location: useful, as there is a potentially confusing one-way system.

It seemed at first as if we wouldn't be able to leave a car there. The man behind the desk said that leaving cars where they weren't expected was difficult and wanted to know the reason.

"The truth is that we are both on holiday and we met up and we want to fuck each other a lot, and don't want to be driving around during the day in two cars."

"Huh!" from the desk man. Then laughter. "O.K. I can see your point." He fished out a couple of pieces of paper and started filling them in. Then he pushed them across the desk.

"Who is leaving their car then?"

"I am," said Sophie.

"Read the form and sign while I look at the car. Is it the blue one?"

The formalities took a while, and we had to move Sophie's things to the other car, but eventually we were ready to set off again. As we got in the car Sophie said: "You had a nerve, telling him we wanted to fuck each other a lot. By the way did you mean frequently, or that we were desperate to do it?"

"Both, of course. Do you object? I thought up several other stories, but he could have picked holes in any of them if he was inclined, so I thought it would be better to be straight."

"Well it worked. And it was accurate, either way."

Extricating ourselves from Tripoli was a bit easier than coming in, as we could follow the signs to A7. The drive to Perachora took nearly an hour and a half, and we arrived there after mid-day. I have a good memory for location, and I remembered that to reach the Heraion we had to by-pass the village, and then drive round a lagoon.

There was a small parking place, with a couple of cars parked. No sign of anyone about -- maybe walkers gone on round the cliffs or across to the Limni beach. We got out of the car and walked to a point where we could see the whole scene below. The ruins of various parts of the sanctuary dominated the bay, with the temple itself and a number of associated buildings forming a rough plateau beneath the cliff, raised above a rocky cove and small sandy beach. The sea was deep turquoise, shading to sky blue in the shallows. The bay faces slightly west of south, so the sun shone directly onto the ruined building, and cast deep shadows from the surviving columns and wall. My memory had not played tricks: it was as quietly, yet mysteriously, beautiful as I had remembered it.