I woke at six thirty this morning and rather than rolling over and reconnecting with sleep, I got up, donned my walking boots, kissed Shirley farewell and headed off to the mountain. After half an hour I was back on the rocky path that winds up to the ridge.
The hilltop town's history goes back to 800BC - getting on for three thousand years ago. There must have been good reasons for choosing such a site. Perhaps the cooling winds were attractive. Perhaps they were closer to the gods. Perhaps it was all about defence.
I spent ninety minutes up there, observing the ruins and wondering about the lives that were lived there over a period of a thousand years. It is at times like this that I wish I had studied archaeology when I was at university.