Having to leave the farm and only go back at weekends is onerous and irksome. Not just for me, for everyone. However organised I try to be, I always forget something. I overpack the car and put things in inappropriate places, like my Aerolatte milk frother. I tucked it in the boot and the dogs sat on it. Annoying, as it was a gift, and embarrassing, as the twirly thing was bent out of recognition. Misshapen ..read more

Last week my friend came to stay. She is über chic, stratospherically tall and sips cocktails with A-listers in London. I love her as she reminds me of my old life. Actually that's not true. She reminds me of the life I could have had if I wasn't weeding raspberries, cleaning pools and smiling at clients who complain that the cat is too noisy! Anyway, to prove I haven't gone totally 'rustic ..read more

 About a year ago, my husband hauled me out of bed at the crack of dawn. “We're going to miss the window if you don't come now!” Pulling my sweatshirt on, I thought it might be something romantic. “I've got a conference call at 9 and we need to pick these figs. The hornets are devouring them. We'll have no jam” Rubbing my eyes but too tired to argue, I grabbed ..read more

School has finished and we are finally home in Tuscany. I say home because the farm really is home, especially for the kids. Old friends, olive trees, fresh raspberries, veggies from the garden patch, evening swims in the pool, hay bales in the fields.... and no more long-distance phone calls from Gardeners or Housekeepers heralding an impending, Apocalyptic disaster. A couple of weeks ago, I was ..read more

 I need to tell you something... Last year, I had a parent/teacher conference in the local Italian school. When I asked my daughter's teacher how my little girl was doing, she replied, “Well, Signora, she's never going to be a writer.” The words hit me like a freight train. I swallowed and kept listening. She got 6 our of 10 for her Italian, a grade I was reassuringly told ..read more

School has finished and we are finally home in Tuscany. I say home because the farm really is home, especially for the kids. Old friends, olive trees, fresh raspberries, veggies from the garden patch, evening swims in the pool, hay bales in the fields.... and no more long-distance phone calls from Gardeners or Housekeepers heralding an impending, Apocalyptic disaster. A couple of weeks ago, I was ..read more

I am so ready for Spring that I have become addicted to weather reports. I have three apps on my iphone, numerous bookmarked sites and I flick through the weather channels more often than I check facebook! I'm convincing myself that Spring really is on the way. Even as the gale howls outside, I'm itching to reach for my white jeans and paint my toes Cancun Fiesta*. As I stare at the snow on the ..read more

Having to leave the farm and only go back at weekends is onerous and irksome. Not just for me, for everyone. However organised I try to be, I always forget something. I overpack the car and put things in inappropriate places, like my Aerolatte milk frother. I tucked it in the boot and the dogs sat on it. Annoying, as it was a gift, and embarrassing, as the twirly thing was bent out of recognition. Misshapen ..read more

16 years ago, my man and I decided to buy a pile of rocks in Tuscany. No roof, no floors, no stairs, an old tractor in the cowshed, a toilet al fresco... it was the most exciting thing we had ever done and would change our lives forever. Our plans, however, met mixed reviews. “How ridiculous! You'll lose a fortune. You can't trust Italians, you'll be ripped off.” “Why do ..read more

I am so ready for Spring that I have become addicted to weather reports. I have three apps on my iphone, numerous bookmarked sites and I flick through the weather channels more often than I check facebook! I'm convincing myself that Spring really is on the way. Even as the gale howls outside, I'm itching to reach for my white jeans and paint my toes Cancun Fiesta*. As I stare at the snow on the ..read more