“Don’t worry,” I said. “If we get a GPS with the car, there’s no need to come and collect us from the airport.”
I love my optimism.
As I manoeuvred the bus-like rental car through the narrow Roman streets of Tiana, I was so thankful Anna insisted she led the way. Indicating left into an even narrower dirt road, with no signage or lighting, I was glad I let manners win over independence.
A voice from the back seat questioned, “Mummy, why are we going away from the lights? It’s too dark here. There’s nothing here. You need to go back now.” Three-year-old decisions often sound so right, but then, she didn’t see the pictures of our final destination. I knew that somewhere in this darkness a magnificent 14th century farmhouse was waiting for us.