For our holiday this year, we drove (as a family) to a house we were renting in Tuscany. In a beautiful, very picturesque and rural part of the mountains, it was surprisingly hot, so we were grateful for the pool. We were lucky to have sun for every day except one, when we holed up in the local restaurant and ate copious amounts of pizza, pasta and gnocchi.
I try to avoid being photographed in my glasses, but I was so absorbed in my book (more about that in another post) that I didn't notice this photo being taken.
We were very near to Volterra (this will be significant to anyone who, like my sister, my mother and I, has read/seen the Twilight Saga) so we felt it was worth paying it a visit, on a day when the temperature cooled a little and leaving the pool became bearable.
The town nearest to our house was called Pomerance. They had a street party there one night, across the whole town, where the streets were pedestrianized, shops set up stalls and restaurants put all their tables outside.
One stall was selling some delicious mojitos:
One cafe had piles of back issues of Grazia - from the sixties and seventies - on a table outside for people to read while they relaxed on the sofas that had been put out in the square. All the celebrities in them seemed a lot more glamourous than they are today, but the fashion editorials were appalling - the models were worse than the early contestants on Britain's Next Top Model. I was suddenly thankful for those Italian courses my mother made me take when I was twelve so that I could vaguely stumble over some of the less complex articles.
On a trip to the supermarket, I saw these octopi (I think that's the plural of octopus). You wouldn't get these in Tesco.
The view from my bedroom window.
I had such a wonderful time, but it really is good to be home.
P.S. We also went to Paris, but I'm making that a separate post.