Mrs Tyhurst attends the amphitheatre at Epidaurus

Mrs. Tyhurst has been slightly off the rails for a while recently and poor Mrs. Lawton has been rather wickedly neglected.

In fact, Mrs. Tyhurst is currently in Athens thinking about everything and wondering why on earth her (rather shapely) legs are resolutely resisting any suggestion of a change of colour?


So here is a little report of a recent jaunt:

Mrs. Tyhurst joined thousands of Athenians thronging into the amphitheatre at Epidaurus (yes, in the Peloponnese - do try and keep up).
Rather like a well-heeled Greek football crowd, it was to attend a performance of Euripides' "Trojan Women'.


Whilst waiting for her dear friend Evi to return from the loo, Mrs. Tyhurst quickly scribbled down some fashion notes: brightly coloured maxi dresses, very lavishly accessorized...sometimes tending towards a slightly 'tranny' look ?
She noticed a distinct tendency for Greek women to dress to attract. Is it that British women are more lazy? Or something to do with the weather? Or simply that we don't generally mingle with shipping millionaires ?

The amphitheatre has a capacity of nearly 15,000 and it was nearly full, apart from the late arrival of various visiting celebrities - a round of applause, flash of cameras, as another well-known actor arrives (yawn).
People perching on the rocks.
Mrs. Tyhurst was so glad of her sensible daps, although felt a tad under-dressed in her M & S holiday shorts and Indian print top.

The performance was entirely in Greek. Mrs. Tyhurst felt very moved sitting underneath the stars, gazing out to the mountains, thinking that she was doing something that people had been doing over 2,500 years ago. She really is a silly old sausage sometimes.

Earlier Miss Evi Papanikolau, Miss Irini Psalti, and Mrs. T. had taken lunch at a roadside taverna. Fried cod with a deliciously naughty garlic puree, mussels, squid served with local greens and crusty bread. They also visited the beautiful old town of Nafplio, former capital city of Greece. Mrs. Tyhurst showed an admirable level of financial restraint, despite a proliferation of amber shops (well, it is a little hot for amber, don't you think?) Miss Papanikolau slipped out her credit card rather suddenly - something urgently required to accessorize that little kaftan, apparently.

The previous evening (or had Mrs. Tyhurst missed a whole day??) had been spent at a rather charming penthouse apartment belonging to a film producer friend of Miss P's.
Lovely Steinway grand piano and a double bass. Mrs. Tyhurst made her finger a little sore playing it, but enjoyed it nonetheless.
Things were going rather well, until Elisavet ( the extremely kind and generous hostess) suggested some margaritas.
Now, Mrs. Tyhurst is rather partial to a cocktail or two, but unfortunately, the combination of a hot day on the terrace/jumping in and out of the jacuzzi wearing next to nothing and consuming the entire month's alcohol units in a few hours resulted in such naughty shenanigans that they simply cannot be repeated. Ever.
Well, Mrs. Tyhurst does have her reputation to think of doesn't she?