t isn’t until we get there that we realise how much we have missed it. Eight of us—four adults, four kids, all old friends—are holidaying together, and it is heaven. Let me paint you a picture of a lunch. We spend the morning being guided around one of the world’s great archaeological sites: Selinunte, a mind storm of a Greek city, the temple’s skin-pricklingly sacred, the wheel tracks of ancient carts still visible on the cobbles. Our guide, Gianluca, is a magician, collapsing two and a half thousand years of history with a wave of his hand. It is almost a shock to step out of ancient Greece and into present-day Sicily.
