Holiday memory.

The sun high in a Mediterranean sky. In front of the taverna, the beach of the small bay curves away towards the headland. The sky is cloudless, bright blue, the sea matches it in its intensity, except for the foaming white of waves that break on the beach.The air almost still but out to sea,an ever-present sea breeze whips up small, white-capped waves. On the far horizon through the shimmering heat haze, you can see the large, white ferries as they plough up and down the mirage of the gulf.

The beach has begun to empty of sun-bathers as they seek refuge and cold drinks under the brightly coloured awnings jutting out from the front of the tavernas. The waiters, neatly dressed in black trousers and short-sleeved, white shirts open at the neck,seem impervious to the heat. In front of the early lunchtime diners,Greek salads, glistening with moisture begin to appear on white paper tablecloths. Amstel beers create damp rings on the paper’s surface, condensation running down the brown sides of the bottles. Glacially cold bottles of Retsina. Kourtaki, the only brand.

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