Fix It Again Tony is not a joke I’m prepared to risk on these frenetic Fiat-lovers.

Elba Not so little, but still a gem, Elba is 15km off the coast of Tuscany, 250km north of Rome. I’m told it’s to be avoided in July and August when half the population of the Italian capital arrives, but in late May it is peaceful, beautiful and full of quirks. From the U-shaped harbour protected by twin fortresses, an arch in a mediaeval wall opens to the town of Portoferraio. The day I visit it is bursting with Fiat Bambinas, although that’s not a name these drivers recognise. Here, the Fiat 500 is simply the beloved Cinquecento, and I’ve stumbled into a rally of the Cinquecento Club Italia, which has 20,000 members. Fix It Again Tony is not a joke I’m prepared to risk on these frenetic Fiat-lovers. All is peaceful up the hill at Napoleon’s villa (pictured above). The emperor was exiled here in 1814, a year before he met his Waterloo. While here, he designed a still-working sewerage system for Elba.

He also left the world’s word-lovers with a great palindrome sentence. (A palindrome is a word or sentence that reads the same backwards as forwards.) When he first saw it, Napoleon apparently said, “Able was I ere I saw Elba.” Visitors can fly or take a ferry to Elba. Giglio The charming little island of Giglio will be forever remembered as the place where the cruise liner Costa Concordia ran aground in 2012. Until then it was barely on the international tourism radar, although popular with Italians for scuba diving and snorkelling. The last two years have changed the island as hundreds of salvage workers from around the world moved in. Little bars and restaurants began serving English breakfasts, American beer and coffee in large mugs. Now the wreck has been removed, tourists will again be the economic mainstay. Whether the cafes go back to serving pasta carbonara and demitasse coffee remains to be seen. Giglio is in the Tyrrhenian Sea, 50km south of Elba and only 15km from Tuscany. Midweek in the shoulder seasons it should be quiet. Go on a midsummer weekend and you might leave with, as I did, the unerasable memory of an Italian stag party drinking red wine from rude-shaped drinking vessels.

Signature experiences

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