Time here, doesn’t so much stop, as cease to be relevant. Under blue skies, the sun uses the mountains as a natural reflector. Pouring heat down that has the zinc roofs of the old houses contorting in agony. Ancient oaks, spread their branches. Relief, green filtered shade. Wine, alive. Laughing at the wilting lettuce, trying hard to be appealing.

Old Potters Inn, on the Main Road, where horses meander happily. Noting the smart 4×4’s of the visitors amongst the somewhat road-worthy local vehicles. The swimming pool welcome at the end of a hot day. Our accommodation, comfortable and quaint. Purple gate in a hand packed stone wall, enticing.

An alfresco meal, Tuscany family long table style, under the stars as the bells toll in the still evening.