The Englishman who went up a hill

It can only be once you have achieved something that you see how far you have come. That is usually metaphorical, but today, I put it into practice. Anyone who has seen me navigate my way around the away end at Newcastle's St James' Park will know that I am not very good with heights, so when I was winding my way through the narrow country lanes, I worried that someone in a little Fiat 500 was going to fly around the tight bends and send me into orbit before coming down with a thud, I wasn't paying attention to how fast I was going or how high I was going. Only with the church in sight I finally realised my mistake and started crawling towards the end.

Luckily, no one was around to see the stupido Inglese make a big deal out of it. I'd reached my destination, where my great-great grandad was from. It has been challenging to find much about that's what a family fallout and moving halfway across a continent does. Of the two Pieretti gravestones, the consensus is that one is of one of my great-great grandad's sister and his brother, who died one Christmas at just five years old. The pieces are slowly falling into place, but more detective work is needed.

I sat on the steps leading up to the church contemplating my next move, my nerve for the journey back had gone, and I even tried to book a taxi which didn't turn up and five hours later I received an e-mail to confirm it wasn't happening.

By then, I realised I would need to head back, as I didn't want to walk around in the dark without knowing what I was doing. I walked down to where I should have left the bus earlier, but I found no buses back to Lucca. I would have to walk another 25 minutes to find the nearest service, which turned out to be on the edge of a bustling road with vehicles travelling at 70 km/h.

Finally, I made the move. I had worked myself up to think that the way down would be trickier than the way up approaching one sharp bend in the road. I feared a steep descent down one section of the road only to turn the corner and realise it was nowhere near as scary as I had imagined. it emboldened me, and I started to make good progress amongst the olive trees and the greenness of a landscape trying to hold off autumn for as long as possible.

I returned to Luuca to be met with a torrent of rain as soon as I disembarked from the bus. I returned to the accommodation, dried off and charged the batteries a little before heading off for my first experience of proper Italian pizza.