If you had been wandering down Rugby Street early on Sunday morning, you would have encountered a cheerful chap on a ladder, outside the shop, painting our new sign. Wayne Tanswell drove down from Suffolk in his little red van and got to work bright and early – making the finishing touches on our facade refreshment (now that we are taking over the little shop at 17a Rugby Street, next door).

The rain held off, Maggie provided coffee and croissants, and it was a pleasure to see Wayne at work. 

He had plenty of time to meet the neighbours, Bobby Williams and Mr Williams his dad (looking, well, a bit worse for wear after the extraordinary Tom McKean and the Emperors gig in the  Perserverence the night before); Orsa seeing her friend back off to Finland, a new American neighbour (who’s name we don’t know, who’s just moved onto the street – hello)…. I guess that chatting to the neighbours is what comes of a job where there is plenty of time to literally watch the paint dry.

Anyway, at the end of the day, Wayne declared he would like to move to Rugby Street, and we had a very handsome new shop sign.

The renovations and reorganisation in our stock rooms go on for about another week, and we are also closed for staff holidays. Bridie and the new girls – Sophie and Jessica – will be very pleased to see you in the shop when we reopen on September 6th!  

I’m particularly happy with the shiny new paint job on the shutters, thanks to Adam the builder and his amazing team. A sign that it’s going to be brilliant autumn, I hope!

Looking at my holiday snaps. So, I know, the other night, I denied everyone photos of Sienese churches and misty hillsides (although I do have a few of those). Well this evening I thought the better of such holiday-photo-snobbery.

It was a good year for sunflowers in Tuscany. I’m never quite sure why this is so one year and not another – something to do with EU subsidies for sunflower oil. Have you ever cooked with sunflower oil? No, I didn’t think so.

Anyway, one day last week, Val and I drove down to San Quirico d’Orcia to visit her great friend Leigh (and Leigh’s remarkable and welcoming family, who had rented a historic old convent near the town, in the fabulous, happy, impressive style that is unique to Americans. Which makes one wish that Americans would concentrate on going on holiday more and to war less).

On the way, we came across an amazing valley of sunflowers. And on the way back, we decided to stop the car in a tiny layby so we could pop back and take some snaps. Which was all well and good, except that as I was on my way back to the car, the slowest (yes, I mean the slowest) tractor in the world overtook us. Behind which we had to sit for about 20 miles on our way home.

At the time I was not sure it was worth it, but now I feel it was.

Oh dear. While I am writing about cookery, can I have a little word about Elizabeth David?  

I KNOW that we are meant to love Mrs David. I do… sort of… that is, until I pick up one of her cook books to COOK WITH.

Yes. It’s probably just me. But I need a bit more help with my recipes. I love cooking, I really do. But from time to time, I need to be told what to do – I think, after all, that is the point of a recipe isn’t it?

On Thursday last week, Valentina and I cooked “Veal larded with Ham” from ‘Italian Food’.  I can’t quite remember the details, but it went something along the lines of ‘take a leg of veal. Form an incision across the length, then a second above and and a third below. Insert Prosciutto and add some carrot slices at intervals. Bind with string. Brown the meat, then braise until cooked’.

HELP!

It tasted sort of delicious, but I think I prefer Delia. Sorry.

(*The Prawn Cocktail Years)

I got back from Italy on Sunday, and a wonderful time it was. Tuscany was looking at its most beautiful for many years.  The weather was perfect  - glorious sunny days and cool nights. (Apart from the last two days of massive thunderstorms and well, frankly, extremely cold wet rain, that is… all the better for returning to London with).

So I suppose you might have been imagining some photos of beautiful grey and white Sienese churches and lone cyprus trees silhouetted against Tuscan hilltops.

Well, instead, I thought it would be more amusing to share a little cooking moment that Valentina and I had. On our last evening (during the one on the massive rainstorms) we started preparing supper for our friend Catherine and her sister Lucy who were coming over from their farmhouse across the valley for supper (could you get more Chiantishire? No, you couldn’t).

That morning we had bought some lovely chicken from the butcher, Macelleria Chini, and herbs and vegetables from the corrupt but faithful greengrocer in Gaiole-in-Chianti. Yes, it felt like winter and we were going to make a casserole. (what’s the Italian for casserole anyone?).

Putting the ingredients out to get ready, we realised we had stepped into a 1970s cookbook. Without even trying.

I was a little reminded of Entertaining with House and Garden that I wrote about a few weeks ago.  

But then, even better, Val found the perfect companion to our little moment of fun, Ada Boni’s famous ‘Italian Regional Cooking’. Look at that beautiful title page. And then LOOK at the photographs. They take food styling to an extreme.

How achingly dull is a page from “Jamie’s Italian” by comparison (lets face it, just how many photos of a vespa and of the f**king cheeky chef can we take?). No, this is the REAL THING. You have been warned – it gets a little bit gruesome towards the end.  

Would you send Bridie and me your photos inspired by the best cookery photography of the 1970s please? Happy Holidays, and all the best of the silly season.

Next week, I’m very excited to be heading off to Italy for a couple of weeks with my best friend Valentina from New York.

In the meantime, if you’re reflecting (like me) on quite how time is flying past in 2010, consider these photos of the Old Parsonage at the end of March – and yesterday. It’s amazing what four months mean in a garden.  It’s strange to think that in four months, Christmas will be knocking at the door… for now, I hope you are loving this summer.