Great stuff Lard---give us more !

More!! More!! This looks like to be a great trip report, Lard!

Sorry Kate, I think Lard was one of your companions, NOT you specifically.

Thanks Joy, I am indeed not Lard, as the designated driver for most of this trip, I think I deserve a more commanding and respectful title - Senora Caterina will do just fine.

So, after many a winding road ("Don't the Italians believe in road signs?" "Stop trying the blame the Italians for your poor map reading" etc), we arrive in Gubbio as darkness falls. Lots of tooting car horns. Ooh is it a fiesta? Oh, it's just a football match.

Our sole purpose here is food, but I must say Gubbio looks wonderful, a dark and brooding hill town hugging the cliff. We constantly remarked at how we were glad we hadn't arrived in winter, as those steep icy cobbles would have had us skidding down to Assisi on our derrieres.

After the obligatory truffles on toast (english translation) and a fair swilling on local wine (except for Dave, who has now been sacked from map reading duty and reassigned to driver), we set off for our first lodgings - the magical Castello di Petroia (http://www.castellodipetroia.com), complete with obligatory Count.

I sense I'm rambling, we've only been in Italy 4 hours and I've already filled up two sections of my report. I'll try not to describe every toilet break from now on....

Sorry Kate[ not Lard]. I love your style. You have made my day--more, more.

Enjoying this story tremendously. I can not wait to hear about the accomadations and the beast resturants to eat in. Any good shopping? please continue this evening thanks!

Enjoying this story tremendously. I can not wait to hear about the accomadations and the best restaurants to eat in. Any good shopping? please continue this evening thanks!

Apologies for the pause, I had to go meet friends down the pub. I'm now at work with a slight hangover and cravings for bacon sandwiches (ooh red wine on an empty stomach), so please excuse the typos.

So, back to the castle and the Count. We arrive in utter darknes to this remote, eery 11th century castle (birthplace of the Duke of Urbino with the very hooked nose as painted by, I think from memory, Piero della Francesco). The castle sits high amongst the forest covered hills, and literally glows in the distance.

The gate is shut, the only life around is a cat. It's like a film set from an old Dracula movie. A shadowy figure appears, actually it's the Count , who doesn't look the least like Peter Cushing, who ushers us into the dining room for a drink.

A large party is in full swing, with all the guests sat around a large dining table. I get cornered by a rather drunk lady from Brighton who tells me about 18 times how amazing the food is, how wonderful the Count is etc. Guess we'll be joining them for dinner tomorrow then.

The rooms are great, simple, elegant, an iron bed that stands about 4 feet of the floor, I feel like a small child climbing in. It doesn't feel at all like a hotel, I feel like a guest at an aristocratic weekend party. I was destined for this life. My parents clearly swapped me at birth.

Back soon
Lady Catherine x

Aah Italy. We awake to glorious sunshine and panoramic views of the Appenines. Tamara is now very excited as she's just spotted a swimming pool in the grounds. I should probably point out at this stage that this will not be an intensive sightseeing trip, as apart from Tamara (who's frankly more interested in shopping for boots than studying frescoes - 14 pairs at the last count), the rest of us have all been to Italy many times, including the educational bit as art students (there's a story there about how I first fell in love with Florence at 17 via a brief liaison with an Italian Art student at the Accademia. Aaah Giovanni! Anyway, another time perhaps).

Frankly, we all want a relaxing break. But still, off to Assisi.

Gosh, I'm stunned about the Basilica of St Francis – I've always wanted to see the Giottos there but never expected such a grand spectacle. I guess I always thought any memorial to St Francis would be a little more humble, as befits the man in question. It IS beautiful, but I'm particularly impressed with the crypt. I left feeling like I'd visited the tomb of the second Messiah. Very moving, particularly as I'm an atheist.
Is it lunchtime?

My God the Italians have got it sussed. Pure food, great wine, weather, history, architecture, art, countryside, a month of in August, siestas, beautiful people. Even their meagre breakfasts fit in with my daily pattern – throw a coffee down yer neck and smoke a cigarette on the way to work. My kinda people. Perhaps the Count will adopt me. He did say his son wasn't interested in carrying on the family business.

And so to dinner back at the castle. Lard dons a natty little lace number. I think she's got her sights set on dazzling the Count in the hope of doing an Anna Nicole Smith number on him. However, she'll have to fight Tamara, who's already happily promised to dump her boyfriend (Dave the mapreader) should the opportunity arise.

For dinner, there's only us 4, the Count and a couple from San Francisco, who become increasingly bemused at our drinking capacity, need for cigarette breaks, and outlandish travel related stories ("Your friend Dave, is he an actor?" "No, just a show-off"). They are particularly amused by Lard's recollections of eating dog curry in Vietnam - not by the dog curry, just the idea that anyone would want to holiday in "Narm". 5 courses, severable bottles of wine, a liberal tasting of the Countessa's homebrew liquer and 26 euros later, we stagger to bed (some 3 hours after the San Frans have retired).

Tomorrow it's Florence, but I'm coming back here one day, if the Count will have us back.

Per favore, Signora Caterina, adopt me for your next trip!

Kate: I am eagerly awaiting your next segment. Oh ,I love your British dry and witty humor. You made my day on a cloudy, rainy and otherwise miserable Friday afternoon.

Kate,

Thew lodging at Castello di Petroia sounds wonderful. What was the cost of lodging there? What kind of room (standard double, superior double)?

Many thanks.

John H.

Here's the Castello's web site:

http://www.initaly.com/hisres/petroia/petroia.htm

Thanks, Roberta. Had seen another web site that didn't have pricing info.

John H.

hey! what happened to the rest of the post? did it never get posted by la signora Caterina, or is it here buried under another heading??

i have only just discovered it and was enjoying it immensely!

Senora Caterina - where are you?? You must finish this!

Kate: I know your last post was in September, but I just found it now and your writing is intriguing! Please continue the saga. Di.

You're right, like so many things in my life (tax returns, the washing up) I started and never finished. Mainly because there didn't appear to be much interest in my saga, but I'm happy to continue after the new year if people want me to?

Maybe then I can also fill you in in how I survived the hogmanay in Edinburgh. Or didn't survive, depending on how things go.

Yes. Please continue. Tuscany and Umbria trip reports are always welcome. Sandi.

Hi Kate,

Really enjoyed the start of your report - please continue

yes, please, asap.

alrighty now - we've given you enough time. Post another report! Please!

Yes Kate. Holidays are over, taxes not yet due. No more excuses. We're eagerly waiting... Sandi

Chsitmas is over, I've finished my ritual January detox, my tax return is in (just), so now I return to Umbria and Tuscany.

Where was I? I think we'd just had a big blow out with the client - lovely man, perfect host, happily stayed up opening bottles of local wine for me and Dave as Lard and Tamara had shamefully reitred early at 2am.

Following day, and breakfast before we have to leave our private palace. I have to say I LOVE big posh hotels, I'd happily live in one, but nothing beats the personal service here. We're the only ones at breakfast and we have our own personal butler to serve throughout. Not bad for 96 euros a night (per room). Fresh cheeses and cured meats, home made conserves, constant flow of rish black coffee - mmm for a minute there I forgot I was in cold, wintery London.

Today we're off to stay in a small pad outside of Florence - can't help feeling the trip will be downhill from here on in...

oops, sorry about referring to the Count as the "client" - I'm clearly still in work mode.

And apologies for all typos past and present - my typeing is rubbish, please forgive me, I really did very well in English at school, honest guv.

We've all been to Florence many times (apart from Tamara who's eager to exercise her shoe fettish), so have chosen to stay 20 mins outside at an agurotismo with a pool (remember - relaxation is the key here - and it IS August).

Our choice is Olmi Grossi (www.paginegialle.it/olmigrossi), a small, slightly scruffy farm near Impruneta, complete with barking dog and a liberal supply of lizards (to feed the dog I presume).

We have a self-contained house! 2 bedrooms, sitting room, kitchen with complicated coffee machine, and television playing constant italian game shows. Very clean, simple, would be perfect if we hadn't just left our castle in Umbria.

It's raining, the shops are closed for siesta, we're a little too far from Florence and a thunder storm is brewing. What have we done??

Kate, glad to see you have resumed your delightful report at last. Please don't stop now! (And be sure to let us know about your Hogmany adventures, too).

At present, I'm looking out my window at our enormous pin oak, whose bare black branches are pasted over with 3 inches of wet snow; a postcard sight, to be sure, but I'm not looking forward to getting out in this mess, so a vicarious dose of Italy would be very welcome.