It’s midnight and 37C: my hell (and history) of Cerberus

Naming the heatwave after a three-headed hellhound makes perfect (and very uncomfortable) sense to classics fan Edward Andrews, sweltering in the heat of Greece

The Greek government has closed all outdoor spaces, from municipal parks to archaeological sites like the Acropolis from noon each day (REUTERS)

It’s approaching midnight and it’s still 37 degrees celsius. Heat is radiating through the stones I’m sitting on in the ancient amphitheatre of Epidaurus. I’m here on a theatre retreat, attending the annual national theatre festival’s opening night where the audience is restive. Despite marshals offering hand fans at the entrance, the whole audience is shimmering with sweat, looking utterly drained.

While British weather has been rainy in the past week, the Mediterranean has been baking. Where I am, by the coast in the town of Nafplio, temperatures have been regularly reaching 28 degrees celsius by 8am, usually climbing to the high 30s and low 40s by midday, then staying there until long after the sun has set.

Already the heat has forced Athenian Niki Smirni, owner of retreat company Travelgems, to change the programme four times, getting us up earlier and earlier to try to avoid the worst of the midday sun. “I would never normally host visitors in Greece in July and August, if it wasn’t for the theatre festival. This heat is outrageous, even for us,” she tells me, dabbing herself with a hand towel. “It’s bad for business, I worry about the older people on this trip.”