Emerging from the taverna into the bright sunshine and gentle zephyrs of the port, one could be forgiven for believing oneself transported back to an ancient past. Perhaps Bacchus' bounty flowed somewhat too freely over luncheon, and perhaps age is beginning to throw its cloudy cape over the eyes, but look at the ships! Flecker's "swans asleep" indeed; fishing boats just such as these, with bold eyes staring from their prows, surely bobbed in the wake of Agamemnon's triremes as the Mycenean sped vengefully towards far Ilion.