My family and I had absolutely no idea what to expect when our train pulled out of Verona’s Porta Nuova station and began its hour-long trundle north to the town of Rovereto. Sometimes your half-term Eurobreaks are planned out in obsessive detail. Sometimes they are not.
This was definitely the latter. In my defence, one of the few genuine upsides of writing books is that very occasionally, an Italian publisher might acquire the rights to one and ask if you’d like to come and do some literary events? With your family? And when that happens, you don’t really ask too many questions about where exactly you’ll be going. You just say: “Si. Grazie. Ti amo.”
