Continuing along past the farmhouse in the previous shot, the road transformed into the quintessential Tuscan laneway. There were few cars and even fewer noises, if you exclude the relentless ticking of the clock in my mobile phone which I swear was audibly counting down the time before I had to get back. In my imagination, perhaps.

The near road sign warns of loose edges for the next 2km. The far one, of sleet and ice for the next 2.4, which seems oddly precise. Of course here at the end of summer, staring down the barrel of another 30 degree C day, it seemed inconceivable that this place could ever be icy. No doubt it can, but I'm not at all sure I'll ever get to see it.