The steep approach to Zanego

His name is Fielding Wopuld. Of those Wopulds, the games family, the people with their name plastered all over the board of 'Empire!' (still the UK's best selling board game, by some margin).

The house is roasting. Some problem with the heating system has caused it to turn on, ignoring the sun beating down outside. Ottavio comes, calls the plumber, and turns it off.

The Bannermans decide to head for a light lunch in Lerici. We snack at the house - ravioli with a Megan salad and a Seb aubergine sauce. And after a short siesta we head for the nearest beach.

It's a 45 minute walk, downhill. 15 minutes to Zanego and then a half hour scramble through the woods that cling to the cliffs. The signs, such as they are, warm of a nudist beach, but when we make the final, precipitate descent we find a black pebble beach occupied by fully clad Italian families.

Most of them have arrived by the altogether less challenging route of boat. We swim and bake dry, looking out a a few giant boats passing by this corner of the Mediterranean. Apparently it is has been renamed from Gulf of Spezia to Gulf of the Poets - remembering the overwhelming influence that Shelley, Byron and others had on this corner of Italy (not).

The climb back is hot and arduous. Megan is plagued by her bites. We jump the pool as soon as we can. And then it's pastis, vino, birra and risotto a la casa. And, of course, Stuart's guitar serenade.