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anxiety attacks + olive oil

It's more Wuthering Heights than Room With A View. The wind is howling, the rain is hammering on the windows and I'm wearing two pairs of socks and a flannel dressing gown.  It's so glamorous on a Tuscan farm... I got so wet picking the olives that I have a wicked cold. But...it was worth it. Last year, our oil was very average because we picked too late. The olives were overly mature...

school runs + soggy pizzas

The good news is that I passed my farming exam. I am now a certified Tuscan Farmer. When I proudly told a close family member he said; "Aah, so you're a farmer's wife?” "Er No, I AM the farmer”.    Here begins a long road of tiresome explanation and discrimination. Talking of long roads, mine is driving me nuts... Here's the deal.  You fall in love with...

olive oil + raspberries

It's definitely not run of the mill and certainly not suburban. Although I occasionally crave a semi in a safe urban stronghold. Somewhere near a shopping mall, the Gap, packet curries, films in English, Marks & Spencer's knickers... Instead, I have enough wild country to shake a stick at, a road that defies champion rally drivers and a house that drinks money like The Money Pit. Home...