‘I can’t believe my boss is only giving me three weeks off,’ my friend Stefania said last week, ‘In August! What a slave driver!’ Such are the thoroughly laudable holiday habits of Italy. The idea of forcing your workforce in to the office in temperatures which would make even cats fancy a dip is simply not in good taste. August is holiday time and ferragosto its poster child. No-one works on ferragosto. It is not a day to give birth or have a house fire. It is almost certainly a good day to rob a bank or at least park your car in a cravenly illegal spot. It’s a day – ideally surrounded by a whole month – of getting down to the beach and eating your body weight in fresh seafood. Everyone we know has already headed off to the seaside and quite frankly, as soon as we finish this newsletter, we’re off too. If you want to escape along with us, why not emerge yourself in this 360 degree view of the Rosalio grove, taken on a hot afternoon just last week.
