I’m hatching some plans. Some Italian plans. Top secret for the moment, but you’ll be the first to know (well, after my family, and most of my in-person friends, and people at work, and everyone I have on Facebook) when they’re finalised.
These photographs are from a trip at the very end of last summer. We went to Bardi in Emilia-Romagna, and the hills around it. A lot of the hamlets in the sides of the valley are barely inhabited any more, and the old pubs, palazzi and houses have often been left to ruin.
You can still explore them though, and that’s what we did, peering across windowsills grown over with ivy and dandelions and brushing dust off bits of bric-a-brac left behind when the people who lived there moved away.
Despite the cobwebs, a lot of the furniture and walls are still in good condition thanks to the dry summers (and, I assume, good quality roofs and stuff).
These old places are a little sad but obviously also massively romantic, with leaves wound around the curtain rails and postcards and piano music still scattered across the floors.
One day I’d love to live in one of these houses, mend the roof and help it to look a little more like it looked in the 1920s. It’s a beautiful place to live.
It’s just, at the moment, a little quiet, a little lonely, a little haunting.