Single in Sicily

Just got back from a week's package holiday in Sicily (naturally paid for with the fees received for my part in the downfall of ETS). This was the first holiday I have ever taken on my own and I am grateful to family and friends who encouraged me on this venture.



Having been on a number of these holidays with Voyages Jules Verne, I know that the great majority of holidaymakers are middle-aged or elderly couples, with only a few singles. These tend to be widows, widowers and divorcees, with a few younger people of either sex, often schoolteachers visiting places of historical interest. Mealtimes can be a problem, with most tables being for four, a pair of singles often get lumped together, sometimes for the whole week. Accordingly, I chose a hotel which only offered B&B and decided to fend for myself for lunch and supper at suitable bars and/or restaurants.



My daughter, a seasoned single traveller, offered some good advice. Always carry a newspaper or book and avoid eye contact if you wish to discourage the unwelcome attentions of strange men. I have to say that this ploy proved to be successful on every occasion.



There were four excursions on offer and I signed up for all of them. First we went to Syracuse, a sleepy port with a fine Greek Theatre nearby, at which, we were told, the first performance of Aeschylus' "Persians" was staged. Syracuse was also the town where Archimedes lived, and met his death at the hands of a Roman soldier. Apparently Archimedes was doing a maths problem in the sand on the beach (as one does) and failed to defer to the passing soldier quickly enough. I was sorry that there did not seem to be any statue or memorial to the great man.

The next day to the top of Etna .... or The Etna, as the locals call it. The coach took us to 1900m. and the remaining 1400m. were climbed by cable car and land rover, for the exhorbitant extra cost of 50 euros per person. There we saw a couple of smouldering craters, clearly on the point of erupting, and acres and acres of black ash.
There was only one place for lunch and the whole party went in so, apologising profusely, I plonked myself down at a table with a couple from my hotel. They were very nice, him particularly when we realised that the litre of wine provided with lunch was meant for four, so we did well. Conversation was easy and they weren't too nosey. They reminded me very much of Howard and Hilda, characters from the excellent "Ever Decreasing Circles" with Richard Briers. Howard and Hilda were the couple next door who always wore matching jumpers and were endlessly enthusiastic and positive about life. At one point they were discussing their intended bus journey to Messina the next day, and worrying about the hills and sharp corners. She (Hilda) then said that it might be nice to go by train, it would be flat and fewer bends. "Howard" was clearly taken by this. "That is a very interesting suggestion, Hilda, and you may well be right. It certainly gives us another option to consider."

Next day to Agrigento to the Valley of the Temples where the impressive Greek temples, one in particular extraordinarily well-preserved, stood on the hillside overlooking the plain down to the sea. During this tour I became aware of another "single". She was a keen tourist and bustled about questioning the guide and chatting to others in the group. She looked a bit like Judi Dench but without the twinkle and was, I decided, a retired headmistress. Lunch was at a restaurant at the beach, and I thought about it, and then chickened out. Sandals off, I walked along the sand at the edge of the water for half an hour, had a quick beer in a bar and then walked back just in time to catch the coach.

The final excursion was a boat trip to the volcanic islamds of Lipari and Vulcano. "Judi Dench" was there again and lunch was in the only restaurant on the extremely smelly island of Vulcano. This time I plucked up courage, followed her in and suggested that, as we were the only singles, we might as well share a table rather than sit separately. She agreed and, for the first time in nearly fifty years, I found myself having a meal alone with a lady other than my dear wife.

It wasn't too bad! I didn't talk too much, we told each other about our families, she was a divorcee of 64 with a son of 26 who suffered from MS, she told me of the years she had spent in Washington when her ex- had been awarded a fellowship and said I really should go there. We shared a bottle of wine and the bill and went our separate ways, perhaps deliberately avoiding further contact for the rest of the day.
She came and sat next to me at the airport a couple of days later and we chatted about the holiday, and we waved vigorously across the baggage reclaim at Heathrow. It probably meant little to her but, for me it was something of a milestone.