NICKY PEL­LE­GRINO, BOOKS ED­I­TOR

New Zealand Woman’s Weekly - - WEEKLY TRAVEL -

My child­hood trips to Italy never in­volved any of the places tourists usu­ally visit. My fa­ther comes from an area called Lago Pa­tria near Naples. It’s never been the pret­ti­est spot! In the sum­mer, we used to drive there from our home in north­ern Eng­land and stay with fam­ily – of­ten camp­ing on mat­tresses on the floor for sev­eral weeks. There was al­ways a lot of wait­ing around as adults talked end­lessly while my broth­ers and I longed to get to the beach. But then the day would come when my aunt would get up early and cook a feast. We’d pile into the car and it would be so hot, our legs would stick to the vinyl seats. It was al­ways such a re­lief to ar­rive at Lido Sab­bia d’Ar­gento (sil­ver sands). Look­ing back, it wasn’t a very nice beach – cer­tainly not a patch on any here. But we loved spend­ing the days sun­ning, swim­ming and eat­ing, and went back to Eng­land with golden skin and a boot stuffed full of fresh plums, jars of pre­served ar­ti­chokes and prosciutto made from my aunt’s pigs. I am pic­tured here with my brother Ed­uardo and some friends.

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