I went to Mount Athos twice. The first time I think was just the moment I'd left the Foreign Office, I t was about 1963, and the first time was not a success because I went entirely by myself, it poured with rain, I couldn’t speak Greek, it was bitter cold, and I gave it up after three days. I was having a perfectly horrible time. Also, I didn’t have a proper rucksack because I'd been told that it was, you just picked up a mule at the port and, of course, there were no mules, so I had my little suitcase, which I had to carry, which was ridiculous in itself, shows how inexperienced and hopeless as I was at the whole thing.

But anyway, a couple of years later we did it again much better. This time I had a Greek friend with me, a lovely friend called Costa, whom I'd known for a long time. He was a wonderful traveller, and my friend Reresby Sitwell, who was the son of Sacheverell Sitwell and the nephew of Edith and Osbert Sitwell, who was an exact contemporary of mine at school. And he was, at that time, working for Fortnum & Mason and brought a wonderful, special rucksack, absolutely full of Fortnum & Mason goodies, which, my God, one needs on Mount Athos where the food is... I mean, it's gastronomic crucifixion three times a day, it's a nightmare. And anyway, off we went, and the second time it was an enormous success because it was, first of all, the sun shone, and it is one of the most beautiful places in the world.