They call it stormy Monday, but Tuesday’s just as bad.

This is long.

I can see clouds in the distance, over Turkey, and there was a rumble just then from behind too. However above us is blue sky, and the sun is strong and hot: without the breeze coming off the sea it would be a little uncomfy, even in the shade.

Yesterday was a little more interesting, weather-wise.

At breakfast time it started out cloudy, but that drifted away as we ate, and by around 10.30 or 11ish the sun was quite strong. We’d decided to embark on a little walking expedition, following a route we’d been shown on our first visit. The walk starts at the shore front right outside the hotel, and heads down the coast away from Thermi port past the old Roman port and the pre-roman settlement. Along the shore the ground rises up to form a hill about 15 feet high, apparently formed by the cycles of destruction and rebuilding of the settlement. There is a narrow trail between the sea and the cliff formed by erosion of the settlement mound, littered with chunks of rock from the ‘cliff’. We can see the lines of pebbles used as flooring, together with some larger stone blocks that (presumably) denoted walls etc. There’s also a surprising amount of fine white marble in large chunks laying in the narrow gap between the side of the hill and the sea, though it’s impossible to be sure that they have non-random reasons for their presence.

We carried on walking along the shore past the archaeological site entrance for about another half mile until we’re round the point and out of sight of the hotel. There’s more hotels here, but they look fairly conventional, with rows of sunbeds, conical sunshades and beach bars playing 80s soft rock hits mixed with modern Greek pop music.

We continue walking past these, but there’s not that much more of interest, so we head back again, taking a road up and away from the sea.

Across the main road that runs through Thermi lay slopes and olive groves, and we find the road that leads to a small chapel with some ancient stones embedded in the wall. Inside there are oil lamps alight and a smell of incense, along with typical Greek Orthodox paintings and polished brass hardware. On from there and further up hill to a much larger church with some Roman frescos in the outer wall.

The weather has changed again, and the clouds have returned, bringing a close, stormy feel. As we climbed higher, Chris spotted a largish snake slither quickly off the path and into the trees, and when we reached the spot, not only was there the snake, but also a large rat (or smooth-tailed squirrel) in the trees.

While we were looking on we started to feel the first raindrops fall. Initially warm, they were few and far between, though very large, and we continued climbing upward. There came a point at which we realised the rain wasn’t going to hold back, and so had to find shelter. The trail was mostly a broken track with low walls and wire fences on either side, but at a junction we found an entrance gateway for a private house, with double doors and a small overhanging roof that was JUST sufficiently deep to protect all but those parts that protrude furthest. This was just in time, and within seconds of reaching the porch the heavens opened and huge drops of rain fell, a few catching our feet, my tummy, Chris’s boobs. Flashes of lightning could be seen against a clear blue sky in the distance, as the clouds rolled overhead.

After a few minutes it slackened and thinking reprieve was near, debated whether to step out or stay put. But while I wondered, the noise from the tin roof of a garage just below us on the slope began to increase. Not only was it thundering, but we also had hail. The clouds had clearly been only limbering up, and now we enjoyed a real display of enthusiasm, with hailstones the size of peas striking a tattoo on the roof opposite, thunder rolling every minute or 2 around us.

All good things must come to an end, and the clouds having shown us what they were capable of, move off to honour others with their display. A few hundred yards further up the hill we found the trail dry and dusty: it seems our display was very localised, and other guests at the hotel reported unbroken sunshine during that time.

Eventually we came to the church of Panagios Timotelli. This building has an old section with wall paintings and a much more recent part with ornate panelled ceilings. It’s interesting, but not hugely, so we continued down the hill back toward the hotel, turning off the main trail to follow a footpath/agricultural trail through the olive trees, back to the road and the hotel.

Lunch was simple. The day before we’d bought bread, Feta cheese, a cucumber and some yoghurts, and just enjoyed these on our balcony. Up in the mountains the gods were still moving their furniture around, but down here there was birdsong and insects hard at work

That afternoon the wind dropped away to nothing and the sea became un-naturally still. The air was warm, though not hot, and a slightly misty sky took the furious heat from the sun and a swim seemed just the right thing to pass the time. Getting into the water required a small amount of will power, for it was swimming-pool cool, rather than the gently embracing warm sea that we’ve often experienced at other times in Greece. Steeling myself for the shock that never came, I pushed away on my back from the jetty that marks the area of deeper water in front of the hotel’s dining room.

There was a sense of almost unreality as I swam gently away from the shore, the oily water forming lumps and small hillocks that quickly flattened and disappeared again from my flippered feet.

As I swam, the birds seemed to have taken a siesta and were quiet. In the port a single cylinder diesel engine thudded away for a few moments, then fell silent. The only sounds were the small sploshing noises from my swimming actions and the sound of a child practicing piano in the hotel. A confident Allueta came first, then a classical piece, then Kum By Yah. Beneath my body were weed beds masking rocks, then empty spaces with sandy bottoms and shells, then more weed beds and rocks. And all the while the sea barely rippled or moved, and I could see right across to the town in Turkey on the opposite shore a few miles away.

Eventually the moment broke with a car driving along the main road, followed by a couple of scooters buzzing with noisy, frugal voices, and I returned to shore.

Later that afternoon and evening we cooked with Daphne, the mistress of the hotel, and Nina, a Norwegian woman who met a Greek, fell in love and stayed on the island. The dishes were entirely vegetarian, most using either Aubergines or Courgettes as the main bulk ingredient and cheeses and/or cream for their fat content. And everything contained olive oil. The cooking was a little like a class/demonstration and a little like working with a friend who has a party to cook for and whom you were helping.

We also met 2 other guests while cooking: Tom, a climatologist from California who enjoys cooking and has a great sense of humour, and Christina, a German woman who upped and moved to South Africa 30 years ago and made it her home. Christina also has terminal cancer, and because she was in so much pain that day, couldn’t do some of the more demanding tasks, but was still able to watch and participate in the conversation. We didn’t talk about it, but this is likely a case of doing things that there was never time for when there was time, and creating happy-sad memories of final good times with her husband, who we met later.

Later in the evening we have a small ‘ouzo party’ held by Daphne, Iannis (her husband and hotel owner) and Nina, along with other guests the families of those who also cooked. We discover that another couple who also arrived on the same day grew up just a few miles away from where I also lived before we married. The world is indeed small.

Eventually it’s bed time. The ouzo was ‘sneaky’ and suddenly caught up with me just as it was time to go. I shall have to watch that in the future.

And now – time for a dip.