Lazing on the sands on Otzias beach, a horseshoe-shaped bay on the tiny Greek island of Kea, I was a little confused.

It was Sunday afternoon and the beach was empty; not another towel to be seen. Only when we strolled the short distance through the silent village to Anna's, a taverna that had been recommended to us, did things become clear.

There, almost every table was taken, filled with Greek families diving into platters of fresh fish and salad - talking, gesticulating and smoking between mouthfuls. Directed to a small table for two, my friend Sara and I realised gleefully that we were the only English people in the place.

When we thought about it, however, we decided we were probably the only English people on the whole island.

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Kea is that rare thing, the holy grail of Mediterranean travel: an unspoilt Greek island. Better still, there is every chance that it will retain its authenticity - Kea's residents appear uninterested in mass tourism and the one small car ferry that ploughs its way between the port of Lavrio, a 45-minute drive south of Athens, and the tiny harbour at Korissia can bring only a small number of visitors.

The island is the preserve of local people and wealthy Athenians. Instead of hotels dotting the island, the hills are scattered with villas built of local stone, second homes for those who long to escape the city at weekends.

Only one British operator, Sunisle, a web-based company, offers holidays on Kea, with stays in cottages, studio apartments and two small hotels, both in Korissia.

After a lengthy journey, including a three-hour wait at Lavrio for the ferry, our small sun-drenched terrace at the Hotel Keos felt like heaven. The comfortable rooms are rendered special by the spectacular sunset views from each terrace.

There are several traditional tavernas on the harbourfront at Korissia, but the neighbouring village of Voukaria, just around the headland, is where the best restaurants are found. We parked the car and strolled along the slim road that separates a handful of upmarket tavernas from the multimillion-pound yachts that seemed almost surreally opulent next to the battered fishing boats.

It is an egalitarian shorefront: at one end lie a couple of bars, all tangerine-coloured furniture and cocktail menus, that look as if they have been imported straight from Mykonos, Kea's brasher Cycladic sister.

At the other lies Thalia, an ouzeria that serves up superb Greek food - aubergine roasted with garlic, plump mussels doused in butter and flat-leaf parsley.

On Kea you eat like the Greeks do: order a few plates to share, drink a little wine, sit for a while, order a few more. After several Greek holidays when I came home never wanting to see a block of feta again, the heaps of baby calamari, home-made meatballs and honey cake were something of a revelation.

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