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The journey home – was this the greatest Classics trip ever? Could any other group have gelled as well? Will another beautiful French girl ever walk through French doors at breakfast and kiss Rupert Duthie on the cheek before running off into the distance (quite possibly the most romantic scene I have ever witnessed)? Perhaps this trip has thrown up more questions than answers but some things are for sure: diving off a fishing boat into a chilly April Med truly is an exhilarating experience, Hugo Francis longs for a peafowl, Gina Miller would be Frank Abagnale if she had to be a character from a movie and I am a lucky man to have such great colleagues (thank you Mary-Liz and Chris) and students (thanks to all 21 of you).

Monday - Nestled high and deep in a fold of Mt Parnassos, Delphi's location is stunning and so began some wonderfully wistful conversations on the nature of happiness, the experiences that life has to offer as well as some choice kernels of knowledge about the aged Sibyl and mind altering experiences. Up and out by 0830 we were in Olympia by the late afternoon, picnicking on a beach en route and relaxing in the sunshine as study sessions continued apace - is any tragic hero ever responsible for their own fate?
 
Tuesday - The sanctuary at Olympia was as beautiful a location as any we had seen yet, and peripatetic musings were again the order of the morning beneath the shade of Judas trees with their shocking pink blossoms. The lone re-constructed column on the Temple of Zeus marks the home of the Olympic games and the location of one of the 7 Wonders of the Ancient World - Pheidias' seated statue of Zeus (no longer extant).
 
Wednesday- Olympia to Pylos - a typically Greek protest in a mountain village delayed our arrival at Nestor's Palace in Pylos by 2 hours, as such we experienced our first Indiana Jones-style escapade up and over the wire fence via the branches of an olive tree (all sites shut at 3pm - we arrived at 3.30!). The palace itself was modest but the experience was enhanced by the dextrous tree-climbing.
 
Thursday - Pylos to Tolon - 9 hours travel - missed Sparta (damn the 3pm closing) - lunched in a Frankish hill town called Mistra (think Mont St Michel in ruins) - arrived in Tolon to our upgraded hotel on the beach. First class view, great food, quiet night in preparation for Mycenae next day. More study groups, Oedipus Tyrannos read in full.
 
Friday - the jewel in the crown of the tour was the visit to Mycenae, the city which gave its names to the Heroic age of Greece (1650-1100BC). We visited the monumental tholos tombs named after Aegisthus and Clytemnestra and imagined Agamemnon meeting his sticky end in the bath tub in the palace. More Indiana Jones action as we descended the fortified well in the rear wall of the citadel which sinks down some 15m into pitch blackness. Torches guided the way. A final stop at the beautifully preserved Theatre at Epidauros, as well as the sanctuary of healing. Last night in Tolon, dinner, drinks, study groups and dancing.

Final post to follow . . .

Arrived in Athens, transferred with a young Greek called Nik (Maddy Butcher's hearthrob) to our hotel in a northern suburb. Took an evening stroll over to the National Archaeological Museum, and past the Polytechnic of Athens, smashed up, graffitied and left to rot after the anarchist riots several years ago.
 
The next morning we marvelled for an hour over the archaeological remains of the Mycenaens before bartering in the flea market at Monastiraki; a quick snack kept the wolf from the door and fuelled our efforts through the agora, the agora museum, up the Acropolis, to the Parthenon and down the other side for a leisurely lunch, followed by a stroll up the Pnyx (the birthplace of democracy). Our final stop was the New Acropolis Museum which impressed us all with its deeply political location, orientation and not so subtle dig at Lord Elgin and the British Museum. 11 hours walking and a night cap in Plaka ensured everyone slept like a log.
 
Day Three: transferred to Delphi via the stunning Temple of Poseidon on Cape Sounion, snapping Byron's graffitti carved deep into one of the columns. Evening revision then started in earnest - who'd have thought it?
 
More to follow . . .