Cheesy potato dipped in crumbs, wrapped around stretchy cheese then fried … would you share them? The dining room had more windows than walls, and through most of them you could see the temple on the top of the hill, as well as the beach meeting the sea. The waiters wore white jackets and cummerbunds, although in an old-fashioned rather than formal way. At night, the bar had a choice of set menus, but in the morning, after asking if you wanted coffee (Greek, filter or instant), tea (various), hot chocolate or eggs, the waiters would bring dishes with things on them: slices of cake, bread, breakfast rusks, honey biscuits, thick yoghurt, butter, honey, cream cheese and apricot jam. Pretty standard, and perfect for three children aged 11, nine and six, because not only was there cake for breakfast (in what we thought was the best hotel in the world), but most of the rest came in individual tubs, pots, triangles and packets: the magic of the single portion – and my brother, sister and I ...