No, there was nothing to complain about, on that terrace. And yet something rubbed

I sat alone on the terrace of the shamefully luxurious villa on the Greek island. The group had traveled to a breathtakingly beautiful gorge, according to the brochure, which involved a steep climb and I can’t make it anymore.

They ate all the provisions and, worse, drank all the drinks and locked the door, I jokingly texted two friends who had to stay behind in the Netherlands because of corona.

In reality the group was caring and helpful. For example on the way to the lighthouse in the beautiful town near our compound. It was strewn with steps and there were several friendly arms who helped me on them. And off again.

It wasn’t a punishment, being alone in that villa. I had chosen it myself because I didn’t want to run the risk of being a burden to others. It also gave me a good opportunity to work.

It didn’t really happen that way: such a terrace, with a swimming pool on it, and the view of the wooded valley and the sea beyond, and behind that a hazy mountain range, forced them to contemplation – especially with a bell of rosé on the side.

We had such a good time here and I noticed little of the tumors in my body. The last chemo seemed ages ago, the nausea had almost subsided. Every day I took fewer pills.

We did what we do every year when we entrenched ourselves in a villa in a nice destination. I got up first again, unloaded the dishwasher and did some cleaning, after which Tien 2 soon stumbled down the stairs and said: ‘Good morning Meul’ – I’m called Meul, Meula or Meulekind in these circles (I’m 61 ).

Then we had a lavish breakfast, read the newspapers, took a dip in the pool, and set out in two cars for lunch at a select restaurant. For example, in the mountains, where everything was still cooked on fire and the owner, who resembled the actor Elliott Gould, whispered to us.

Then shopping was done and there was a thrifty Event (beach visit, visit villages), but we preferred to go back to the villa for another dip in the pool, a nap and a book.

Then came the cocktails and dinner prepared by one of the excellent chefs in our party. The ouzo was followed by a few rounds of Uno, a nonsensical card game that involved frenzied screaming.

No, there was nothing to complain about, on that terrace. And yet something rubbed.

That gorge and the undoubtedly heavenly lunch that followed? I would rather have been there.