Entry #38

Monday, 11 September 2023

11am

I’m sitting writing in the small living room of the house, with a fan trained on me to try and cool down. I started off the day by doing my stretches, plus forty minutes on the exercise bike that I position on the small lawn in front of the house, looking out over the valley to the sea. I know it seems daft to use a stationary bike when this whole region is a magnet for cyclists but my high blood pressure means I struggle with the steep hills – not to mention I’m frightened of the narrow country lanes, the sharp bends and some of the more aggressive drivers. So I bought an exercise bike when I was here a few years ago and it means I can get the body moving first thing in the morning, often before Harry has got out of bed. But I worked up a sweat and am now struggling to cool down. Hence the retreat indoors – and the fan.

We’ve had a great few days and have spent lots of time with our friends and neighbours, relaxed around the house and grounds, plus I’ve treated Harry to a few more bouts of naked expressive dancing – accompanied by my freestyle, operatic, wildly out of tune vocals. This is a regular occurrence when we’re here, up in the mountains, far away from anyone. But this time I managed to muster up a laugh from Harry rather than his usual sardonic eye roll.

I’ve also gathered more research and inspiration for the novel I’m about to start writing that’s set in the house and grounds. We did make it to the museum in Camaiore, although there wasn’t much info on our medieval castle – and certainly no display. The curator we collared didn’t know much either. There was, however, a lot of material on other, larger local castles. And there was a lot of information – together with exhibits – about life and working practices in medieval Tuscan castles in general. So I’m sure I’ve got enough to go on, provided I can find somebody to help me translate all the display panels I screenshotted. And I can always supplement this with the information contained in an old Italian book we’ve found in the house, titled The Nobility of Montemagno. Besides, I’ve decided that the character I’ve invented who’s a historian and amateur archaeologist should tell my fictional family that if there are any gaps in the historical record, they should use their imaginations to fill them. This will really work for some of the other themes I’ve set up and some of the ideas and thoughts I want to provoke in the reader.

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Whilst exploring the house and grounds, Harry and I have also made the discovery of a huge water cistern under the cottage built onto the side of the main house – just a few yards from the chapel. I always knew there was an opening there that led to some kind of underground chamber but I had no idea what was inside – until I threw a stone in yesterday morning and heard it land with a huge plop. My first reaction was to worry that the water could be a breeding ground for mosquitoes – which might explain why I always get so badly bitten – but we asked our neighbour who lives in the next property along – and has done since he was born – and also looks after the maintenance on our place. And he doesn’t think that’s an issue as apparently it’s too cool in there and mosquitoes favour humid conditions. He says the space is a large underground chamber – at least 3 x 5 metres – which was originally used as an extra room but was later converted into a cistern by directing various drainage channels into it and setting up a bucket on a rope to extract the water (the big rusty hook is still there, just above the main opening). He says the water could, however, be responsible for the damp that affects the ground floor of the house, although it would be a major job to drain the cistern and reroute the various channels that feed into it. Unfortunately, Harry and I have no money to take that on but I will work the discovery into the book – as I need lots of twists and turns in the story of the house renovation. (Incidentally, I do find it amazing that after nearly five years of coming here – and much more for Harry – we’re still making surprising discoveries.)

I was also fascinated to find out from our other neighbours – a German couple – that this year’s olive harvest will be terrible, with production expected to be down 50% on last year. Apparently, this is because of a plague of a particular type of fly that punctures the olives and lays its eggs inside, only for those eggs to hatch and the new-borns to feast on the flesh from within. Also, there hasn’t been enough rain or the wind required for pollination. And the spray used to protect the olives from all kinds of pests only works at up to 30 degrees – and that temperature has been exceeded for much of the summer. All of which is good to know as I do want my book to have the ring of authenticity. So it’s all going in!

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Finally, I’ve spent a lot of time reading a book called Not Guilty, which is edited by Sue Elliott and Steve Humphries and gathers together first-person testimony from generations of gay men whose lives were affected by discrimination and prejudice. I’ve concentrated on the chapters from the 1930s, 40s and 50s to help give me a better grasp on the social and cultural context in which my character Wilfred - the great uncle of my lead character, who leaves him the house in his will - would have grown up and his love affair with Italian Arnaldo would have blossomed. And it’s been very useful.

Oh and another lovely little detail came last night, when Harry and I were walking home from having drinks with the neighbours. We rounded the corner from the olive grove and saw a beautiful brown deer; we only caught sight of it for a few seconds before it bounded off and away from us, but it was a real thrill and I’m already excited about working it into the book.

Having said that, the highlight of the trip so far – perhaps surprisingly – has nothing to do with my book. We went out for the day with a friend who’s an artist and has lived in this area for decades. She took us up to a mountain village to see some stained-glass windows she and her husband made for an old church that had an artistically-minded priest. And on the way back we stopped in a place called Malbocco to go wild swimming in the river. It took me a while to pluck up the courage – and it didn’t help that I’d forgotten to bring flip flops and the riverbed was made of stones, some of them pointed and sharp – but once I was in the water I loved it. Harry preferred to sit on the edge and paddle and I didn’t push him to come in. I’m a big believer in the saying ‘Feel the fear but do it anyway’, but at the same time understand the importance of knowing your boundaries, and when pushing someone too far outside their comfort zone can backfire. Although why it took me so long to plunge into the water when I knew I wouldn’t be crossing mine, I’ve no idea.

Anyway, it’s time to get on with the day – our last full day before we fly home tomorrow afternoon. I’m reading another gorgeous Italian-set novel by my friend Kate Eberlen – Only You – and want to persuade Harry to take me for a walk on the beach at some point. He hates walking and also hates the sea and the sand so this is no mean feat. But I’ve learned from experience that this isn’t too far outside his comfort zone – so I’m going to push him!

The Castle of Stories is out now, published by Pansy.