‘The Devil You Don’t’ – A beta reader’s view

It could be said that of all the women one could meet, whether contrived or by sheer luck, what are the odds it would turn out to be the woman who was being paid a very large sum to kill you.

John Pennington is a man who may be lucky in business, but not so lucky in love. He has just broken up with Phillipa Sternhaven, the woman he thought was the one, but relatives and circumstances, and perhaps because she was a ‘princess’, may also have contributed to the end result.

So, what do you do when you are heartbroken?

That is a story that slowly unfolds, from the first meeting with his nemesis on Lake Geneva, all the way to a hotel room in Sorrento, where he learns the shattering truth.

What should have been solace after disappointment, turns out to be something else entirely, and from that point, everything goes to hell in a handbasket.

He suddenly realizes his so-called friend Sebastian has not exactly told him the truth about a small job he asked him to do, the woman he is falling in love with is not quite who she says she is, and he is caught in the middle of a war between two men who consider people becoming collateral damage as part of their business.

The story paints the characters cleverly displaying all their flaws and weaknesses. The locations add to the story at times taking me back down memory lane, especially to Venice where, in those back streets I confess it’s not all that hard to get lost.

All in all a thoroughly entertaining story with, for once, a satisfying end.

…

Available on Amazon here: https://amzn.to/2Xyh1ow

…

A photograph from the inspirational bin – 23

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Whilst in reality these steps go down to a very narrow space of the beach, and scattered rocks in the shallow water, so much more could be inspired by this photograph.

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Further out that day, divers were out exploring about 100 yards offshore.

But, to me, it what you don’t see that gives it its fascination.

We could be anywhere along a 1,000-mile shoreline, one side a small village lazily gets through the day, on the other, a deserted and overgrown picnic spot that no one ever comes to anymore since the bypass road was built.

But it is not any of those.  it’s in Mornington, Victoria, Australia, the pier that is not far from a small park, and that day, very, very busy.

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It simply goes to show that sometimes a photograph can provide enough information to inspire a story.

The second attempt looks a little better, but not much

The process of writing is rewriting editing and more rewriting.

The other day l wrote some words.  I didn’t like them.  But it had laid the groundwork for a second draft.

Here it is:

 

Growing up I did not believe l had one of those lovable faces.

My brother, known in school as the best looking boy of his graduating class, said it was a face only a mother could love.

He was mean.

Simone, a girl who was a friend, not a girlfriend, said my face had character.

She was charming and polite.

Looking now, in the mirror, l decided I’d aged gracefully.

I could truthfully say my brother had not, but that was as far as the comparison went.

My overachieving brother was the epitome of success in business, a veritable god zillionaire.  Everything he touched turned to gold.

My ultra successful sister, Penelope, had married into the right family perhaps by chance, but she was also a very learned scholar whose life was divided between her chair and the university and her social life with the rich and famous.

Then there was me.

I gave up on my chance at university because l was not the scholarly sort and didn’t last long.  Sadly l was the first of my family to be sent down from Oxford.

Instead, l took on a series of professions such as seasonal laborer, farmhand, factory worker, and lastly, night watchman.  At least now I had a uniform and looked like I’d made something of myself.

It would not be enough for my parents who every year didn’t say it out loud but the disappointment was always there in their expressions.

My brother in his usual blunt manner said l was a loser and would never change.

My sister was not quite so blunt.  She simply said it was disappointing so much potential was going to waste.  I only asked her once what she meant and lost me after the first four-syllable word.

Finally, I’d taken their comments to heart and decided l would not be going home to the family Christmas holiday reunion.

I told my boss l was available to work the night shift over the holidays, the shift no one else wanted.

It was he said the time for reflection.  He hated his family as much as I did so we would be able to lament our bad luck though the long cold hours from dusk till dawn.

It was 3 a.m. and it was like standing on the exact epicenter of the North Pole.  I’d just stepped from the warehouse into the car park.

The car was covered in snow.  The weather was clear now, but more snow was coming.

It was going to be a white Christmas, all I needed.  I hoped I remembered to put the antifreeze in my radiator this time.

As I approached my car, the light went on in an SUV parked next to my car.  The door opened and what looked to be a woman was climbing down from the driver’s seat.

She closed the door and leaned against the side of the car.  “Graham?”

It was a voice I was familiar with, though I hadn’t heard it for a long time, my ultra-successful sister, Penelope.  From what I could see, she didn’t look too well.

“What do you want?”

“Help.”

My help, I was the last person to help her or anyone for that matter.  But curiosity got the better of me.  “Why?”

“Because my husband is trying to kill me.”

The instant the last word left her lips I saw her jerk back into the car, and then start sliding down to the ground.  There was no mistaking the red streak following her as she fell.

She’d been shot from what could be a sniper rifle, which meant …

 

It still needs work but I’ve got the gist of where I want to go.

The idea is not to make a character so loathsome no one would want to read about him.

This will evolve and you can if you like come along for the ride!

 

© Charles Heath 2020

The cinema of my dreams – I always wanted to go on a treasure hunt – Episode 17

Here’s the thing…

Every time I close my eyes, I see something different.

I’d like to think the cinema of my dreams is playing a double feature but it’s a bit like a comedy cartoon night on Fox.

But these dreams are nothing to laugh about.

Once again there’s a new instalment of an old feature, and we’re back on the treasure hunt.

 

I could hardly say no, but it was not going to be a place either of us would want to be if he came back, and especially if he had company.

But, Boggs didn’t seem to care, and strolled up to the dock, and then walked down to the boat.  IT wasn’t gated like some of the others were, but they had very expensive yachts that no doubt belongs to the local millionaires, people like the Benderby’s and their country club friends.

I remember my father talking about them once, and he had little respect for any of them.,  They, he said, had no time or money to worry about the welfare of their employees, but never lacked for anything themselves.

Looking at those yachts now, I could believe him.

I couldn’t say the same for Rico’s boat.  It was old, made of wood, and looked like boats I’d seen in old movies.  It was about 40 or 50 foot long, with a tall mast and a sail tied up ready to unfurl when out to see.

It had a large diesel engine, and it was this Rico used to get out of the bay until he was past the sandbank at the entrance.

On the transom, it had the words ‘Freedom Runner’ starting to peel and fade, and you could just make out the old name of the boat, ‘Elsie’, perhaps the wife or lover of the previous owner.  That must have been a long time ago, because I’d known Rico as long as I’d known Boggs, and that was nearly 18 years.

I had to ask, “You think Rico is running a collection service?”

“Someone is, according to the police chief.”

“How do you know that?  I thought the police were our sworn enemy.”

Considering the trouble we’d got into over the years, and the number of times the police chief had locked us up in the cells as punishment, we just spent our days avoiding him..  Perhaps the punishment had worked.

“He was around out place the other night.”

I wasn’t aware that Boggs was up to anything that would interest the law, but, then, he never told me everything he did.

“Why?”

“Come to see my mother.”

“What’s she been doing?”

“Nothing.  He was asking her out on a date.  Probably trying to cosy up to her so he can snoop on what Rico’s doing.  There’s no other reason why he would be interested in her.”

Actually, he was wrong.  Boggs mother was, for her age, quite attractive, or so my mother said.  She said a few other uncomplimentary things about her, but I was not going to repeat them to Boggs.

Nor did I agree with my mother’s assessment.  At times I saw more of Boggs mother than my own.

“Or maybe not.  But if she was to go out with him, that would make Rico think twice about doing anything, including giving you a hard time, or trying to steal the map.”

“You don’t know Rico.  He is just plain stupid.”

“He hasn’t been caught.”

“Yet.”

Then Boggs decided to walk over to the side of the boat and step onto the deck.

”What are you doing?” I hissed.

People on the other boats tied up to the pier were looking or pretending not to look, but I had no doubt they would report our actions to Rico

“Going on board.  I don’t think Rico would mind.”

It was said with a fair degree of bravado, but the halting tone told me otherwise.

“Are you coming?”

Damn him.  It was not as if he was going me a choice.

I shrugged.  God help us if Rico came back.

 

 

© Charles Heath 2019

“Betrayal” – the penultimate final draft – Day 30

I’m sure I’ve been down this road more than once, and with the same novel, but whereas the last edit, which was probably the second or third, finished up in the pile, then forgotten.

I’m doing an active update to all my works in progress, and sending them to the editor, after going through the manuscript once again, with a view to publishing.  Hopefully, before the year is out.

…

It’s the end.

The last day, but not the last of the editing.

Yes, I have almost managed to complete most of the editing in 30 days, but with a few side trips, and changes to the plan on the run, it is mostly done.

The good news?

I’m going to stick with it until I’ve finished, so there will be a few more journal entries to cover the last chapters.

Had it been the length I had originally planned, it would be finished.

I managed to get through the back chapters last night after some distractions, and now it’s just two, possibly three more, and then one or two for the epilogue, which will be epic.

At the moment the story is about 73,000 words long and will finish closer to 80,000,

It’s been at times a trial, a lot of hard work, but it has been worthwhile. The thing is, I’m going to continue on, past the estimated time, and get this finished.

It’s now three of three, books that will eventually be published in the near future.

Searching for locations: Rome, Italy

We visited Rome in August

It was hot.

It was verrrry hot.

We flew into Rome’s Leonardo da Vinci-Fiumicino airport after a rather bumpy flight from London.  Unlike most other airports the plane parked at a satellite terminal and after we disembarked we had to catch a train to the main terminal.

The most notable memory of this airport was my daughter’s discovery of a salami shop.

We had booked a transfer to take us to the hotel the Roma Corso Trieste Mercure in Via Gradisca from the airport.  It was a white air-conditioned van and so far we had avoided the heat.

One of the rooms had faulty air conditioning an absolute must as the rooms were very hot without it and necessitated a room change which was done quickly and efficiently.

The hotel was in the suburbs and without a car we were dependent on public transport.  According to the reception staff, there was a bus stop nearby, and a longer walk to the tram or light railway.  The bus seemed to be the best option as it would take us to the central terminal near the railway station, where all tour buses also operated from, and particularly the open-top buses that went to all the major tourist attractions.

That first day basically was given over to travelling, arriving by plane and settling into the hotel, thus we didn’t get to feel the force of the heat.  That came the next day.

After a walk around the hotel precinct to get our bearings and see what shops and restaurants were available, on returning to the hotel we were faced with limited choices of room service or to go out for dinner.

My daughter and l go for a long walk up Via Nomentana to find several shops and a restaurant.  We went into the restaurant and sat down.   We waited for 10 minutes and got no service nor did anyone come and ask us if we wanted to order food so instead we left somewhat disappointed and go next door to what seemed to be the Italian version of a delicatessen and ordered sandwiches and beer.   I bought a half dozen cans of Moretti beer two of which I drank on the way home.

It was still very hot even at eight at night and the sandwiches are delicious.  It just might be by that time we were starving and anything would have tasted great.

The next morning we are up and ready to chance the weather and some history.  Breakfast at the hotel is limited but very good.

We were going to use public transport and I’d studied up on the Internet.

Travelling on the bus required pre-purchase of tickets which could be bought in certain shops and locally when exploring the area near the hotel, l found a tobacconist.

Next, we needed to understand how to use the tickets. There was no one on the bus who could help so when l tried to scan the tickets and it failed, l gave up.  We had the same issue each day and in the end, the tickets never got used.

The trip to central Rome by bus took about 15 minutes.  In the morning it was reasonably cool and showed us a little of suburban Rome.  We also saw the trams but we would not be able to use them because our hotel not on a direct route.

That first full day we decided to go and see the Vatican.

Not understanding buses and which one we needed to get to the Vatican, we took a taxi.

Wow.  It was the metaphorical equivalent of driving over the edge of a cliff with a daredevil.  It was quite literally terrifying.

Or maybe we just didn’t know that this was probably the way people drove in Rome.

Shaken but delivered in one piece we found ourselves in the square opposite St Peters Basilica.

The square is impressive, with the statues atop a circular colonnaded walkway.  The church is incredible and took a few hours to take in and to top off the day we did a tour of the Vatican museum which took the rest of the afternoon.

Then it was back to the delicatessen for more sandwiches and beer, and an interesting discussion with several elderly Italian ladies, of which I did not understand one word.

On the second full day we decided to use one of the open-top bus tours and eventually decided on the hop-on hop-off tour simply because the bus was at the central transport terminal for trains and buses and it was getting hotter.

Our first stop was the Colosseum.  There were other monuments nearby, such as the Arch of Constantine, but as the heat factor increased we joined the queue to go into the Colosseum and gladly welcomed the shade once we got inside.

The queue was long and the wait equally so, but it was worth the wait.  It would be more interesting if they could restore part of it to its former glory so we could get a sense of the place as it once was.  But alas that may never happen, but even so, it is still magnificent as a ruin.

Outside in the heat, it was off to the ruins which were a longish walk from the Colosseum, taking Via Sacra, not far from the Arch of Constantine.  This day in the walkway there were a number of illegal vendors, selling knockoff goods such as handbags and watches, and who, at the first sight of the police, packed up their wares in a blanket and ran.

Included in these ruins were The Roman Forum, or just a few columns remaining, the Palatine Hill, Imperial Fori, including the Forum of Augustus, the Forum of Caesar, and more specifically the Forum of Trajan.  It was, unfortunately very hot and dusty in the ruins the day we visited.

We walked all the way to the Foro Romano and the Septimus Severo Arch at the other end of the ruins, past the Temple of Caesar.  I found it very difficult to picture what it was like when the buildings were intact, so I bought a guide to the ruins which showed the buildings as ruins and an overlay of how they would have looked.  The buildings, then, would be as amazing as the Colosseum, and it would have been interesting to have lived back then, though perhaps not as a Christian.

I lost count of the number of bottles of water we bought, but the word ‘frizzante’ was ringing in my ears by the end of the day.  Fortunately, the water did not cost a lot to buy.

At the end of the day, we caught the hop on hop off the bus at the Colosseum and decided not to get off and see any more monuments but observe them from the bus.  The only one I remember seeing was Circo Massimo.  Perhaps if we’d known it was going to be twice as hot on the bus, yes, there was no air-conditioning; we may have chosen another form of transport to get back to the hotel.

On the third and last day in Rome, we decided to go to the Trevi Fountain, see the pantheon and walk up the Spanish Steps.  We spent most of the morning in the cool of a café watching the tourists at the fountain.  By the time we reached the top of the Spanish Steps, we were finished.

Short story writing – don’t try this at home! – Part 2

This is not a treatise, but a tongue in cheek, discussion on how to write short stories. Suffice to say this is not the definitive way of doing it, just mine. It works for me – it might not work for you.

There are two methods of writing, planning, sometimes meticulous planning, or flying by the seat of your pants, or being called a ‘pantser’.

The first has it all planned out before they start writing, from beginning to end, knowing what the end result will be. The second, well, we like to write and see where it takes us.

I like to think I fly by the seat of my pants, you know, like the reader who takes up the story and starts reading, not having a clue where it’s going to go. I prefer that blissful ignorance, of course, until I run out of ideas, roughly the equivalent of hitting a brick wall

Or that common enemy all writers have, the dreaded ‘writers block’.

I’ve tried both methods.

Each work, but in the case of the ‘planner’, you need to know where it’s going to start what’s going to happen in the middle and have the end firmly planted in your mind.

Not much good if a rotten character is making you angry and you want to kill him off, and in the most excruciatingly painful manner.

Flying blind gives you a little more creativeness and be able to go around a corner and see what’s there. It also allows for those complete changes of direction you come up with in the shower, the place that is a fertile ground for new ideas just when you’re running out of them.

But it can sometimes play havoc with word counts and if you’re trying to fit into 2,000 words, 5,000 words, or a lot less, taking the story where it wants to go is not a good idea, and sadly, I tend to let stories run their course.

And sometimes I like the idea of writing three different endings, and then can’t choose which one I like the best.

So, role model I am not. I like writing, and when I’m in the ‘zone’ it’s like I’m in another world.

But then, isn’t that the case for all of us?

More unclarity tomorrow!

The cinema of my dreams – It continued in London – Episode 40

Safe in an anonymous hotel

…

There was no time for an explanation, picking up on the urgency in my tone.  They gathered up a few belongings because I added they couldn’t come back, and, after Cecelia and I tossed the work phones on the kitchen bench, we headed down the stairs to the basement.

By the time the call with Alfie ended, I realized that we were just supposed to find her, Rodby had a whole other team on standby ready to ‘extract’ her.  And, if I was not mistaken, it would be against her will if she didn’t want to go with them.  It was why she greeted us with a gun, she knew what might happen.

Perhaps she knew the Rodby’s better than I did.

Like certain parts of London various groups of building basements were used by the defence forces and government offices, and the one Juliet was staying in might have been one because the basement was connected to another and another, and it felt like it had once been offices, given the green walls, arrows and exit signs, and overhead lighting.

At the end, we came out into a narrow alley between buildings and not far from that, Russell Square underground.  Just before descending, Cecilia gave me a new phone.  She had brought another two burner phones, acting on instinct, or perhaps knowing how much of a maverick I was.  Or she had simply changed roles, and become a maverick of her own.

We took the train to the one place I thought, for the moment, to be the safest.  Heathrow airport, and on the way, Cecelia booked two rooms at the hotel nearest to the underground station.  Five more people, some with bags would not look out of place.  But just Cecelia and I checked in with other IDs, and took a room each, and the others wandered up after us.

Almost an hour and a half later we were sitting in the room Cecelia booked for her and me, both with a second bedroom, but this one had a dining area.  She smiled at me when I realised there were two rooms.

“Now, I’m going to assume that you will trust me to a certain degree, and when I say I have no idea what is going on, except that it has to do with the Burkhardt family, there’s an inheritance that needs to be claimed in a few days, and there’s someone trying to assassinate Juliet, who appears to be a direct descendant of the count and an eligible heir.”

I looked at Vittoria, who was still very confused with the turn of events, and probably evaluating whether I could be trusted or not.  “I now believe you are Juliet’s mother.”  Now that mother and daughter were sitting side by side, the similarities between them.

Vittoria and the countess were sharing another pizza that Celecia had ordered up through room service, along with several bottles of red wine.  Juliet went over to the kitchenette, opened one, and poured five glasses.

It was not a bad wine, perhaps an Italian Sangiovese.

Juliet remained standing and looked at her mother.  “Even I’m confused at the moment.  When do you and the countess become friends?”

“We have been for quite some time, particularly after I realised she had nothing to do with my banishment.  That was the count, at the behest of his mother, who has been the true villain in both our lives.”  

Vittoria looked at her daughter, “I’ve come to realize the threats against all of us are the work of that vile woman.  This is the third or fourth attempt on your life, I’ve been attacked twice, and now the countess just escaped from what I perceive to be a threat, instigated by her.”

“Are you saying my old friend is working with her?  I hardly think she knows who the old woman is.  And assuming that she doesn’t, what other reason would she have to do with what just happened.”  She looked at me, “You came to the opera with us, so you must know her.”

“Not because I was a friend of the family, I’m not.  I think now I was asked along for a very specific reason, one she might not have been privy to, but that her husband, my old employer, was.  And my experience over the years is that nothing to do with him is ever straightforward.”

“Are you one of his people now?”  The way she said it, it sounded like she considered me a hatchet man.

“No, not exactly, nor is Cecelia.  We just do this and that from time to time.  I thought I was in retirement, Cecelia is in between acting roles, and he simply asked us to find you.”

“Then if you were seeking the countess, how did you know about me, and turn up at the conference hall, coincidentally when an assassin tried to kill me?”  Juliet made a good argument.

“I may have done a little research.  The countesses feud with Vittoria, and the uncovering of photographs, one of which had the teen version of you with your mother, Vittoria, at the Chateau in Sorrento, the same Chateau where the countess resides.  Sometimes we get lucky.  I was surprised though Juliet, given your history.  I didn’t bring them, and, by the way, I was the one who nearly got shot and killed.”

I could see Vittoria shaking her head.  “If you can make the distinction, then others can too.  Neither of us are now safe.  At least I can discount orange ribbon girl.  I knew she was tailing me, and I thought I lost her.”

Cecelia smiled.  “You wish.  Top of my class for surveillance.

I thought I would add a little spice to the conversation, “Why did you give the impression you’ve been trying to kill the countess?”

That brought a look of consternation from both.  The countess answered, “Only for the sake of appearances, and to keep the rest of the family away from the idea that we had joined forces, which is the only way we’re going to keep them from realizing we know more about them than they think we do.”

“But not enough to stop them from trying to stop both of you and now all three of you, from claiming the inheritance?”

“It is actually all of the business.  The Count held all the shares.  It was his, passed down from his father, and all he had to do with the rest of the family members was give them jobs.  That ownership would be passed to me, or any children of ours if there were any.  We could not, but he told me on his death bed there was one.”

“Juliet.”

“Whose mother was the woman he wanted to marry but was not allowed to, but whom he had got pregnant and promised to look after.  Nobility and their secrets.  But he also told his brother, Alessandro, who in turn told the mother, who really is a nasty piece of work.  She made it perfectly clear to me before I came to London that it would be for the best if I did not attend the signing of the inheritance papers in a few days’ time.  If I chose not to, I would be given a house to live in and a large sum of money for my helpfulness.  It is the reason I got away from the hotel the night of the opera, because I believe Alessandro had arranged for me to be kidnapped, or worse.”

“Who would get the assets, if not you?” I asked.

“As per the provisions of the will, Alessandro who is the next male heir, who had arrived at the hotel and was waiting in my room to see me.  I understand it would not be good business for the company to be run by a woman.  Especially one without any experience and had been sent to make sure it didn’t happen.”

“That story about a bitter rival?”

“It was always Alessandro.  I had first met him, and we had one date before I was swept up by the Count and taken away from him.  He never forgave me for passing him over.  He had always expected his older brother would marry for love and let him take over the business.”

“And you suspected he was there to remove you when he knew that with the girl the count had confessed existed with a stronger claim?  I doubt that was why he was there.  You are not a threat to them.  Not according to the terms of the will.”

The countess glared at me.  “How do you know this?”

“Let’s just say I know.”  I turned back to Vittoria.  “Why were you trying to get close to Alessandro, surely he knew you were his brother’s former lover?”

“To be honest, I have no idea.  Perhaps I have changed since those early days.  I was surprised she didn’t recognise me from the time I spent with the Count.  It was mostly to find out what they were planning, but he wasn’t that interested in me, or would he talk about the family.  Perhaps he knew I had a romantic attachment to his brother all those years ago, though at times he seemed too stupid to know what day it was.  He couldn’t run the business; if you want an opinion, it is the old woman who wants it and nothing ever stands in her way.  She is ruthless.  I wouldn’t be surprised if she killed the count.  And now she is after my beautiful daughter.”

“Well, we can’t let that happen.”

The whole story was a tangled web of deceit and lies, just the sort of stuff that really old families like the Burkehardt’s were.  And typically the old women were the matriarchs that kept everything going.

But I wasn’t so sure Alessandro was as stupid as Vittoria made out.

“How do you two know each other?”  Vittoria’s gaze went from me back to Juliet.

Juliet answered.  “He was injured and spent time in hospital.  I was there working on rehabilitation programmes, and I drew the short straw.  We spent a lot of time together, it went on for a little after he was discharged, and then my world exploded.  We ran into each other recently when I got into some trouble with an old acquaintance who used my stepbrother as leverage.  Evan got him freed and sorted the problem.  We didn’t get back together.”

“And yet you speak so fondly of him?”

I hoped Vittoria was not one of those match-making mothers.

“He saved my brother, and me.  That’s it.”

And to prevent any more discussion, I said, “We need to formulate a plan that gets you to Italy as soon as possible but not by conventional means.  Rodby is already all over the trains, planes, and ferries.”

“What other way is there?”

“Where there’s a will there’s a way.  I’ll let you know tomorrow.”

© Charles Heath 2023

“The Devil You Don’t”, she was the girl you would not take home to your mother!

Now only $0.99 at https://amzn.to/2Xyh1ow

…

John Pennington’s life is in the doldrums. Looking for new opportunities, and prevaricating about getting married, the only joy on the horizon was an upcoming visit to his grandmother in Sorrento, Italy.

Suddenly he is left at the check-in counter with a message on his phone telling him the marriage is off, and the relationship is over.

If only he hadn’t promised a friend he would do a favour for him in Rome.

At the first stop, Geneva, he has a chance encounter with Zoe, an intriguing woman who captures his imagination from the moment she boards the Savoire, and his life ventures into uncharted territory in more ways than one.

That ‘favour’ for his friend suddenly becomes a life-changing event, and when Zoe, the woman who he knows is too good to be true, reappears, danger and death follow.

Shot at, lied to, seduced, and drawn into a world where nothing is what it seems, John is dragged into an adrenaline-charged undertaking, where he may have been wiser to stay with the ‘devil you know’ rather than opt for the ‘devil you don’t’.

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Searching for locations: Castello di Monterinaldi, Tuscany, Italy

As part of a day tour by Very Tuscany Tours, we came to this quiet corner of Tuscany to have a look at an Italian winery, especially the Sangiovese grapes, and the Chianti produced here.

And what better way to sample the wine than to have a long leisurely lunch with matched wines.  A very, very long lunch.

But first, a wander through the gardens to hone the appetite:

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And a photo I recognize from many taken of the same building:

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Then a tour of the wine cellar:

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Then on to the most incredible and exquisite lunch and wine we have had.  It was the highlight of our stay in Tuscany.  Of course, we had our own private dining room:

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And time to study the paintings and prints on the walls while we finished with coffee and a dessert wine.

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And of course, more wine, just so we could remember the occasion.