Falasarna

This was the moment, as we scrambled over the stones and spiny shrubs of ancient Falasarna, when the clouds that had gathered as we ate lunch began to clear again and the hot sun mocked our cautious waterproof jackets to such an extent that I was driven to hang the hood on my head as a sunshield until I could retrieve my hat.

We had such a good day. We swam in the waves that drive in on the western coast of Crete, ate moussaka and stuffed veg and gigantes for lunch, clambered through ancient walls and mysterious rectangular shapes, speculated as to the exact whereabouts of the ancient harbour - and then, encouraged by the suddenly hot sun, returned to the beach, struggled into our wet cozzies and had a second joyous bathe in waves that kept breaking right over us the moment we stopped looking at them.

It could have been 30 years ago. The best of days.