[ 19:53 monday 29 july – cala tonda, isola san domino, italy ]

the sun descends into a purple cloud-bank spanning the horizon. the turquoise sea glints golden in these final rays. i sit watching cross-legged on the bone-white rock.

after our adventures in the mountains christian and i decided to come out here to the tremite islands, clustered in the adriatic near the puglia’s heel. this is the only group of italian islands on which i hadn’t set foot.

my expectations were not high. i imagined a few featureless islets smothered in concrete villas and knick-knack shops. the reality is much more wonderful. there are two inhabited islands and two uninhabited. the total population is below four hundred. most of the history and population is on san nicola. most of the tourism is on san domino where i sit.

the dominant rock is limestone, riddled with fossil shells and bleached white by the sun. the dominant vegetation is the scrub and pine which once stretched along the adriatic coast. the south-eastern side of the island is a warren of secluded coves and sea caves. the north-western side faces the prevailing wind and is much more rugged and windswept.

there are three or four hotels which look like they were built in the seventies but overall the island feels undeveloped. the main settlement seems to have grown out of the streets and houses constructed by the mussolini administration to accommodate political prisoners. there’s no sign of any structures that pre-date this.

the first thing we did on arrival was find somewhere to stay. after several false starts we found a hard-as-nails pugliese crone who reluctantly rented us a room. she seems to have us marked as trouble-makers and she’s watching us like a hawk. next we rented a couple of bikes and zipped off to a cove for a swim. the sea reminds me of pantelleria, turquoise green and hypnotically clear.

cycling off-road at midday when the temperature is above forty degrees has a remarkable effect on one’s metabolism. it’s simply impossible to get enough oxygen. one swiftly becomes light-headed and intensely exhausted. on the hills i found myself needing to stop every couple of minutes and stand panting frantically waiting for my pounding heart to return to something resembling its normal pace.

this afternoon we’ve been exploring the north-west coast with its spectacular outcrops and bays. the rock samphire is in blossom and its pungent odour is carried on the air. the rocks are also dotted with beautiful tall-stemmed flowers topped with round seed-heads. my camera has been busy.

it’s doing my spirits a power of good to be here.

: c :

[ 23:08 saturday 28 july – piano imperatore, abruzzo, italy ]

i’m sitting on a limestone crag at the edge of a vast grass-covered plain, one and a half thousand metres up in the appenine mountains. the plain is ringed with mountains reaching up to three thousand metres, some forested on the lower slopes and some barren rock. everything is on a massive scale.

christian and i reached the plain just before sunset, after a tough trek through five miles of forested gorge rising nine hundred metres along its length. christian’s asleep now in our tent atop a flattened hillock below my current vantage point. the wide landscape is bathed in pale light from the not-quite-full moon. dogs barking at a shepherd’s hut the other side of the plain echo among
the mountains, reverberating sometimes beyond a second.

every sunday for the past four weeks i’ve cycled to waterloo station in london, slung my bike on the train to norbiton and visited my step-granny mary in kingston hospital. she was admitted in june with intestinal problems. i found her with one tube going into her wrist, another in her nose and an oxygen mask to help her breathe. her first comment to me expressed mortification that her “old ladies’ feathers” hadn’t been trimmed.

when i got up this morning i learned that mary died in the day’s first hour. a week on monday would have been her ninety-first birthday. she celebrated her ninetieth last year by going sky-diving, earning her a measure of notoriety in the world’s press. her decline in the last couple of months was sudden.

mary was a magnificent lady, full of spirit and laughter. she and my grandfather were married in 1985, shortly after my grandmother’s death. their twelve years together were ludicrously happy.

my initial visits to the hospital were chatty. i took flowers and a big photograph of a labrador puppy to tape over the television screen beside her bed. she wasn’t afraid of death and was curious about what, if anything, might come afterwards.

last sunday mary was a lot weaker and less responsive than previous visits. her speech was barely audible and much of the time i was there her eyes remained closed.

previously i’d asked if she’d like me to read her anything. her eyes had lit up and she’d asked for dickens’ “the old curiosity shop”, adding it was her favourite. so i brought a copy with me, rested it on the pillow beside her head and started reading softly just a few inches from her ear.

i couldn’t tell whether she was following the story or not but it wasn’t important. in two bursts i completed the first chapter. at some level i understood it was the last time i’d be with her. i cried more than i wanted to and lingered when it was time for me to go.

this afternoon in penne i bought a funerary candle and added it to my rucksack’s contents. now i’ve come to sit vigil for mary in this beautiful place. the candle is burning on a rock just in front of me. through tonight it will be visible for miles around, a point of light in the vastness of the plain.

: c :