Athens is ablaze. Not with revolutionary fervour or philosophical debate, but with actual, honest-to-Zeus flames. A wildfire, fuelled by the sort of dry heat that makes a cucumber sandwich curl at the edges, is currently carving a charred path through the Peloponnese. British tourists, those intrepid explorers of all-inclusive buffets and sun-lounger wars, have been advised to steer clear.
The Foreign Office, in a statement that reeks of understatement and faint stale tea, has told holidaymakers to 'avoid non-essential travel to affected areas.' This is the diplomatic equivalent of shouting 'Fire!' in a crowded taverna while gesturing vaguely at a map. Meanwhile, the Greek authorities are evacuating villages, deploying water-bombing aircraft, and presumably praying to a pantheon that has seen it all before.
What is it about the British abroad? We treat a heatwave like a declaration of war. We slap on factor 10, drink cheap retsina, and turn the colour of a distressed lobster. Now we have actual flames threatening our sun-drenched idyll. One can almost hear the collective sigh from Bournemouth to Bognor Regis: 'But we've already paid for the sunbeds.'
The fire, which started near the town of Ilia, has been described as 'unprecedented in its ferocity.' Unprecedented. A word that gets thrown around like a grenade in a newsroom. But here we are, in a climate that was always a bit on the edge, now teetering into the abyss. The Greek prime minister has cut short a visit to the UK. Probably too busy dodging flying olive branches.
British tourists are advised to monitor local media. Because nothing says 'relaxing holiday' like refreshing Twitter for smoke alerts. And if you're currently in the path of the blaze? The advice is to 'remain calm and follow instructions from local authorities.' Yes, do remain calm while the air turns to soot and your holiday snaps become a pyre of memories.
This is the new normal. Fire season in Europe is now as predictable as the changing of the guard. But don't worry, the British government has a plan. They always have a plan. It is called 'consular assistance' and it involves a hotline that you will be on hold for while your sun-lounger melts.
So, to the British tourists currently marinating in fear factor: put down the ouzo, pack your factor 50, and maybe, just maybe, choose a destination where the only thing on fire is the late-night karaoke. The Greek wildfire rages. And we, the British public, are advised to watch from a safe distance, clutching our travel insurance policies like sacred texts. May the gods be with you. They are going to need all the help they can get.
