It’s Friday afternoon and I’m making focaccine, or little focaccia as adding the diminutive ‘ino’ or in this case ‘ina’ makes it little. So these are little focaccia, although if … Continue reading Focaccine


The last time I wrote this was almost two years ago after coming back from the UK when the world was still as we knew it. Two years later and we’ve … Continue reading Pandemic


“Go there today,” the woman in the café tells me. “You don’t get many days like today.” “No?”  “Not up the Spluga. You probably get about five clear days every … Continue reading Montespluga

Being home

It changes when you move away, the perspective. The familiar is still familiar but you see it through a different lens. The old lens has long been cast aside. Or … Continue reading Being home


I needed a new car. My old one had reached the stage that if I drove it any longer it would die. Literally. And probably somewhere very inconvenient with the … Continue reading Car


I can trace my life in a dish of pizzoccheri. I’d just met my husband and we were spending all our weekends driving backwards and forwards in the dead of … Continue reading Pizzoccheri