I come to the end of a near perfect week of sun and landscape in the hills above Greve in Chianti. Although the temperatures have been in the forties, a breeze has kept us cool, and as the children swim and Elodie tans I have been neglecting my reading.
Not a page of Steinbeck have I yet read.
And why? Because since Thursday I have been listening to eight hours of cricket on the radio. I even pirated some Sky coverage, but it really is better on the radio.
Now I am remiss; it’s Saturday lunch time and it’s all over.The Ashes are won and the players back in the pavilion, and no doubt at the bar. It was a great victory, but wait, five days would have been so much more fun.
I guess we just have to hope for the Oval, but can we not have a real Test Match, more ebb and flow, less tsunami?
On the wine front it’s been Chianti Classico all the way; ten euro bottles with a bottle of very fine, and elegant – and according to Jurij Fiore his most Burgundian effort so far – Il Carbonaione 2012. With a lovely vitello tonnato it was very fine. And last night in a late night scramble back to Greve from the Firenze- Siena super strada we stumbled on one of those tiny little osterias in a tiny village whose food was delicious and whose Chianti Classico 2010 biologic equally fine. Terroir, or placeness – che so io?
In such a week, what is there not to enjoy? Except more cricket.