COUNTRY LIFE

I can hear the familiar melody of Bob Marley drifting across the beach and feel myself swaying to its beat. Beads of sweat start to slowly trickle down the curves of my back, and in the distance, children are laughing as they jump the waves that come crashing into the bay, leaving in their tracks a silvery white foam.

I am abruptly jolted from one part of the world to another as a high-pitched ringing sound buzzes in my ear. Reluctantly, I am brought back to reality and wake up in the familiar surroundings of my bedroom in Tuscany.

Daylight begins seeping into the corners of the room, and the chirping sound of swallows nestling in the roof starts to fill the house, making it become magically alive.

Pulling my eyes open, I see my old faithful Labrador waiting patiently by the side of my bed for his daily walk.

"Hello, boy." I stroke his head tenderly.

My mind drifts back to my dream and to Jamaica, where I once lived. Who would have thought after all those years overseas, living in long-haul destinations, I would finally end up settling in the peaceful rolling hills of Tuscany?

Nestling just on the outskirts of San Casciano is the pretty hamlet of Pisignano, one of the few unspoiled regions of Chianti and home to one of the best winemakers of the region, the Antinori Estate. Here is where I call home.

With breakfast over, Dante and I head out the door into the garden. I cannot help but admire the view, as there stretched out in front of me is a spectacular sort of patchwork quilt of rolling vineyards, as if Michelangelo had touched it with his paintbrush all those years ago. Every day I look at it, and every day it blows my mind. Just one of nature's great wonders.

How I love September; the colours are just so strikingly beautiful, ablaze with passion and nurtured with love. Vineyards are set out in their precise little neat rows, burdened with clumps of tiny bunches of succulent deep-purple grapes and olive trees that hang heavy with masses of ripe black olives. It is fascinating to see how this landscape hasn't changed much and has, through the centuries, produced such lovely wines and only the purest olive oils.

Stopping just off the track, I walk through a set of neat encumbered rows of vines. Ripping off a few grapes, I taste their delicate sweetness, a habit I seem to have every year just before the vendemmia harvesting time, when the grapes will be laboriously picked by hand. It makes me feel part of this wonderful ancient land and its deep traditions.

Our morning silence is broken as a hare pokes his head out from behind a bush; Dante is quick on the chase and sets off at high speed. The hare is fortunately slightly more agile than my cumbersome old Lab and disappears out of sight. In the meantime, Dante, refusing to admit defeat, finds easier prey and is proudly dragging along an enormous tree branch between his teeth.

"Bravo, Dante! That can go on the fire later tonight," I praise.

The only drawback with my sweet country house is that there's no central heating!

Glancing at my watch, I realise it's getting late, and we need to head back home. It's Saturday, and as a manager for Tailor Made Italy, it's my busiest day of the week. I need to be at the airport this morning, when the Chiantishire brigade descends.

Standing under the shower, I welcome its spray and start to wash my hair. Then without warning, the water stops.

"Oh no, not again!" I curse out loud. The well must have dried up.

I don't have time to run down to the olive oil factory and ask them to switch to their reserve tank. Frustrated, I lean over and grab a towel off the railing. The clock tells me I am going to be late. I will have to sort it out later when I get back. I run downstairs in search of the kettle so I can get rid of all the lather that's riddled through my hair.

"Catherine ci sei?" I hear a deep Tuscan voice shouting out my name from outside.

It's Cosetta, the contadina.

Living next door to Cosetta and her family is a delight. They are one of a few of the original contadini still left in the region who work the land in return for the crops they grow.

"Si, coming!" I shout out and rush to the door. I can see Cosetta holding a tray of traditional homemade grape schiacciata, a tasty flattened bread. She must have used the fresh grapes from her vines. How wonderful! I can feel my mouth starting to salivate just thinking of eating it for breakfast with a cup of tea. Oh, what a treat! I smile. Life in the Tuscan countryside is not too bad at all.

Jumping in the car already fifteen minutes late, I head off down the track in the direction of Pisa. With any luck, there won't be too much traffic, and hopefully I'll get there on time.

The airport is bustling, full of life as usual, especially today as it's Saturday, the worst day to travel. The queues for the check-in desks are growing rapidly, and I can see that they're slowly starting to squeeze out through the main doors into the car park.

I suddenly hear a smash and turn around. In the corner, a tall Englishman wearing the trademark straw hat has dropped a litre bottle of olive oil on the floor.

As I am in uniform, I put my head down, pretending that I haven't seen it, and head over to our desk. My colleagues are there, busy organising envelopes and arrival lists. Jane, a veteran, has been working at the airport since forever, always telling us amazing stories about the seventies, like when the DC-3 flew into Pisa with its twenty-one seats and how she used to secure the passenger door by tying it with rope.

"Hi, Jane. How's things?"

"Good, darling."

"Where's Alessandra? Has she arrived?"

"Yes, she's over at departures, dealing with Lord and Lady Hutton. Apparently, Lord Hutton has lost his toupee. It flew out the window driving into the airport, and the poor car hire boys are out there, looking for a type of black furry rat." Jane smirks at me.

An image flits across my mind and makes me giggle.

Walking over to the car hire desk, I can see Serena from Tuscany cars looking flustered.

"You look busy." I smile warmly at her.

"Hi, Catherine. Yes, it's going to be a busy day." As she holds up a tray full of keys and contracts.

"Yes, you're right. We've got over 150 cars booked. I certainly couldn't do it without you, darling." I smile...