Dinner is ready. I’m wandering barefoot across the deep green lawn, glass of assyrtiko in hand, to watch the sun lower itself into the Aegean Sea when I hear George, my butler, gently calling. He has set up champagne and snacks on a long marble table by the pool and wants to pop the cork. Inside, across the broad sweep of the lounge, I can see the chef in the kitchen, grilling fish for the first course.
Unbelievably, this is my private home, within the One&Only Aesthesis estate on the Athenian Riviera. I have always wanted to visit this magical stretch of land, the southernmost point of the Attica Peninsula, just a half-hour drive from the centre of Athens. If it had a wrist, its pulse would still be racing from the heady glamour of the 1960s, when wealthy Greek families would moor their yachts and stay the weekend, Maria Callas would sing for Ari Onassis, and Nureyev would dance by the pool. And now I live here – if only for one night.
