See Delphi and Die

VII

Final stop. Olympia. Every seasoned traveller will tell you. always reach your day's destination while it is still light. Listen to this advice.

For instance, when approaching a settlement that lies between two substantial rivers, both prone to flooding, you will avoid the boggy ground. The surrounding hills will not loom dark and menacing; the pine trees will waft delicate odours, not creak above you threateningly You will be able to tell whether you are at a cow shed or a foodshop, and if a foodshop, it will be obvious that the owners have made their pile and shut up until the next festival, hence they have stacked the chairs on all the tables – so you will not make a fool of yourself demanding food from two sinister men without an oil lamp who would not have authority to sell you dinner even if there was any.

If you arrive by daylight, as you head further up the street, or what passes for a street, you won't be left wondering what disgusting mess you have just stepped in As you stumble uphill and downhill, trying to find the sanctuary, members of your party will not irritate all Hades out of you with endless arguments about whether the two men really had a love tryst at the dark bar Nor will you offend your companions by yelling at them to damned well keep together and stop wittering.

Nexf when you reach the welcome light of a luxurious two-storey hotel, you will not feel so relieved to find civilisation that you announce you will take the best room in the house – even though the leering porter exclaims what an excellent choice; it is the lovely corner room with dual-aspect views – a room which turns out to be thirty-five feet square, and blows your entire week"s budget.

After which, you may notice that this enormous building seems entirely empty so you could have haggled over the price – then you could have stuffed all the rest of your group at the far end of the hall and got some peace by yourself.

By this time, your wish to exclude others from your presence

includes your wife, •who will insist on asking why you are so proud you cannot simply go back to the leering porter and tell the bloody man that you have made a mistake and now want a cheaper room.

She is wasting her breath You are so exhausted you are face down, fast asleep

This is the best ploy, since you know from experience that – freed from the rules of paternalism – your dear wife will now quietly return to the leering porter herself and fix up the right accommodation. Probably at a discount.

If she still loves you, she will come back and get you.

If her name is Helena Justina, she may even wake you up in time to share with your companions some of your mother's spiced Roman sausage, now unpacked from among your spare tunics, along with a stoneware bottle of passable Greek wine which Helena Justina, the delight of your heart, has persuaded the porter to give to her as a welcome-to-Olympia present.