Despina pointed at the Parapende, which we happened to be passing.
I was in the middle of telling Despina some tale about a wobbly Romanian soprano, and I thought it would work better when lubricated with coffee. So we went in.

We made ourselves comfortable at a table by the window on the ground floor. Some songs by Manos Matsidakis played in the background. The atmosphere was fat with smoke as the place was rapidly filling up. Though the Parapende was not one of Kastoria's normal places to play cards - it did not have the special beize card tables for this purpose - a threesome of young men argued over their game they had initiated over a table far too small for this purpose. At any point it looked as if the cards would fly off the table and flutter down into an obscure corner of the bar to absorb more smoke and insults. We weren't bothered by the unholy trinity, nor by the man at the bar boasting how he had caught a huge fish in the lake. "What was it - an extra from Jaws?" asked one of his companions sceptically.
I finished my wobbly soprano story, and then Despina leaned forward, put her hand on mine, and asked:
"So, how goes it at the school?"
"I'm glad it's almost all over. You know, there's the class where Dimitri talks about how he comes from hell and is an emissary on earth to cause disruption and chaos wherever he goes. He puts his theory to the test with his friend, Martin. Then there's also Maria, Spearmint of the inferno. I've never seen her without chewing gum in her mouth, even though it's not allowed in class. She thinks it's quite amusing to dance a little every time I play a song on the casette with a gap-fill attached."
"I know Maria," said Despina. "She has a problem at home with her parents."
"Maybe, but I always tell her that if she wants to go to dancing classes, there's a perfectly good course on at the local gallery - 'don't you like my dancing?' she asks. She wants me to reply : 'it's horrible,' or some such thing, but I know that game, so I say: 'it's all right, but not very interesting. You could improve your pogo-ette with a few more head butts.' I don't get any more dancing out of her, thank goodness, for the rest of the class."
"Is a head-butt a movement like this?" asked Despina.
"Yes, exactly, agapi-mou."
"So what is your worst class?"
"The one with Cleopatra in it. Not Cleopatra herself, but the rest of them. Yiannis is always talking in Kastorian slang, Stamatis is slobbering over Katerina, the latter is fawning over Giorgos, while Giorgos plays the trumpet through his nose, which amuses Penny who joins in the orchestra with her giggles. Pandelis is jealous of Giorgos' ability to amuse Penny, and so he kicks the trumpeter, while Christophoros recites the latest football scores and is clipped across the ear by Cleo, herself no angel. And that's only a start!"
"You do exaggerate so much! You should be stricter with them."
" I try, but they're mad. Yiannis turns from being a talker to a guy with an imaginary megaphone. Henry hits his friend Petros even more than before, and so on. It's true they will do some work, but only some. I hate classroom control; it takes so much out of me."
"So I take it you won't be in Kastoria next year."
"No, but I won't be far. I'll be in Thessaloniki. Come and stay weekends and things. Move to Thessaloniki with me. We can make arrangements."
"I can't leave Kastoria, unlike you, who can go where you like."
"Okay, so we'll take it in turns next year."
"I hate this conversation. Take it in turns! You make it sound like a system, not a love affair. Can't you stay here? You'll be much better at handling them because you now know what to do."
"They don't want me back, anyway. It's hardly surprising."
There was a silence. "Okay, so, Thessaloniki I suppose it must be then," she sighed.
"We've got the whole of the summer to enjoy together, anyway."
"All right, don't go on about it. We'll manage."
"Yes, we'll manage."