Tag Archives: Trulli

Chapter 3. In which nothing happens… more than twice.

So having successfully navigated the autostrada of death we finally arrived in our Trullo del Ulivo nestled deep in the ancient olive groves just outside Locorotundo. We’re home. Basking in the gentle embrace of a Puglian summer evening on our … Continue reading

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“I remember every little thing as if it happened yesterday … “

Frustration. Frustration of living in a country where the sun is a hot commodity (pun intended), and those days are taken advantage of by the entire Irish population. Everyone emerges, to find a nice piece of grass or make a … Continue reading

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