Forty-five miles south-east of Rome in the province of Lazio, there is a garden called Ninfa. Iconic among gardeners and horticulturalists the world over, it is widely known to be one of the most romantic, atmospheric places in the world.
I am writing this at the kitchen table on a wet and stormy afternoon - the last of July. The baby and dog are both asleep and all is quiet. As is now apparently customary (despite being July) the wind is blowing and rain drizzling and it’s chilly enough to light the fire.
It is currently 37 degrees in London, stifling and still, pollen drifting slowly in mid air. Landing back at Heathrow last night, it was barely cooler than Italy, the same humid blanket of heat and haze spreading across Western Europe.
