The early days of summer in Devon.

I've moved, many times, and although I'm drawn to the dynamism of city life, there's a part of me that yearns for life in the country. So after a few months in London, an escape to a farm in Devon sounded heavenly. I made arrangements with Becky, the owner of Cuckoo Down Farm, in February and in the middle of May, I found myself taking a train to Honiton (having left my licence in Ireland!) to spend a few days in the countryside - a welcome retreat from my busy life in the city.

It was a beautiful evening when, after a few wrong turns, the taxi pulled up to the farm. The farm is actually very well signposted and the owners were great at giving instruction by phone - shame neither myself nor the taxi driver were paying much attention, enrapt as we were with the winding lanes and pretty houses, barely visible through the trees.

A view of Cuckoo Down Farm, from the entrance

John, one of the owners, was straight out to meet me, and even took my backpack up to my safari tent, Daisy, for me (all the tents are named after plants). This gave me a chance to wander past the animals (goats, chickens, a donkey), over a wooden bridge and up the gently sloped field to the safari tent.

Inside, it was remarkable - like a country cottage - yet under a tent. Two separate bedrooms, furnished with high-quality beds and linen. The living and dining area was sizeable, easily enough for a couple of families to take over after a day at the beach or nearby attractions. A small kitchen had everything required - a proper kettle, gas cooker top, cutlery - and separate bins for food, recyclables and unrecycled waste. Cuckoo Down is intent on sustainability and friendly to the environment, so all guests are requested to bring their waste to the compost and rubbish bins at the bottom of the field where the tents and yurts are situated. Points from me! They'd also left a complimentary bottle of wine and warm wishes for my stay. This beats the luxury of 5 star hotels for me - it really feels like they care about their guests here.

Comfy sofa bed and part of dining table

After spending most of the day travelling, I was sweaty and tired, so I laid down on the sofa (bed) to restore my energy. A short while later, Becky arrived on horseback to say hello and check that I was settling in nicely. She let me know about some of the local area and pointed out the helpful book they have put together with details of local pubs, restaurants, culture and places to see. It is packed with things to do - you could easily spend two weeks here. Cuckoo Down Farm is only 12 miles from Exeter, and about 5 miles from the nearest town, but there are many things to do within driving distance, so it's highly recommended you bring your car. I got by fine on foot and public transport, but I never got to the beach due to no car - even though it was blisteringly hot. I considered hitching, but since it was mid-week, I thought I was unlikely to find a car headed that way.

After discovering the local shop (reasonably well-stocked, but pricey) and wandering around the farm a bit, I sat down and simply watched the sun set from the deck.

It was utterly peaceful, with the only sound being the sheep in surrounding fields and birds singing in the treetops.

When darkness falls, there are lanterns to light the way to the compost toilet (right beside your safari tent) or for reading out on the deck. These can be charged back up at the entrance to the farm, and there are spares awaiting (there's also room to charge your phones/iPads), fridges for each tent/yurt so you can store chilled goods.

Next morning, gentle sounds of wildlife drifted into my tent and after a wonderful night sleep, I emerged in the dewy mist to wander through the woods at the back of tent. The scent of honeysuckle hangs in the air here and a few lungfuls will make you expel all the dirt of the city. There are a few trails through the woods that are easy enough for children, but be careful of ticks - I was fine, but I had my hiking boots and good socks on (even in the heat). I also ordered a dinner off Paul and Carolyn Bellinger, who have a small local farm, who are recommended on the Cuckoo Down Farm website. Proper, home cooked food that was steaming hot on arrival - the cottage pie was huge and hearty and the sticky toffee pudding was delightfully indulgent (and so far from the M&S or Sainsbury's packaged versions you get!) It's also very reasonable and delivered right to your tent, so if you're out on your feet, dinner is sorted.

I spent 4 days on the farm and it's been years since I felt so refreshed. I managed to explore both the local town, Ottery St. Mary and Exeter city, with the local bus that runs from a garage about 15 minutes away. Both were well worth a visit, with special mentions to The Rusty Pig,   where I had an exquisite meal cooked for me from just a brief conversation with the Chef, and the Glorious Art House; I stopped in for Wi-fi and found great food, friendly staff and a charming outdoor area hidden from passersby. On the other days I simply went for walks around the farm and nearby. In the evenings, I didn't feel compelled to go to the nearby pubs, simply sitting/lying outside with my book (and a cheeky glass of wine) was enough for me. For someone who is always on the go, this place gently put a stop to that. I would happily spend 4 days every week here.

For my first foray into the countryside of Devon, I was probably a bit spoilt! The chickens ran to greet me every morning (I must have smelled like food) and the sun shone almost every moment. Only on the last day the temperature dropped and I set up the wood-burning stove, which made the place lovely and cosy - perfect for a rainy day playing board games (or in my case, more reading).

Chicken Run!

Morning strolls

Plant life

Spacious, private, deck

Pretty Exeter

Better than most boutique hotels!

A Christmas Exile

The weather is outside is… well, considering it's December it's pretty balmy but then I'm in Dubai. This time last year I was home in Ireland (for the first Christmas in 7 years), the year before in Chiang Mai, the year before that Oman… and so on. When you choose an expat/nomadic/travelling life you may consider that Christmas may be spent somewhere else and that maybe it will be a novelty. If you're an expat maybe you've committed to the chaotic challenge of the trek home for the holidays, with thousands of other harried travellers facing queues, delays and arm-breaking bags full of duty-free alcohol.

I've grown accustomed to being away this time of year because although I enjoy travelling, I would rather not set foot in an airport between December 12th and January 5th. I have been repeatedly proven right that what can go wrong will go wrong with travel during these dates… in 2013 I couldn't get OUT of Thailand because even the slow boat down the Mekong was booked up, last year in the early days of January, I experienced 36 hour delays (and horrible attitudes) by Qatar Airways when there was some morning fog in Dubai, and a friend had someone throw up in her hair onboard a flight five years ago during the season… Merry for everyone but her!

I remember my first year in Dubai, presents had to be arranged so far in advance and a lovely cabin crew friend posted them from London for me (at the time there were no direct flights to Dublin), now we have numerous online sites to make that easy. I used to use a prepaid card to call home from a landline, which also meant they had to be home. Now, I can call my family for free, without even a telephone connection. In 2004, I had Christmas dinner in the Dubliners pub in Garhoud with my co-workers before I worked the evening shift serving everyone else theirs at the Irish Village. Things have certainly become easier but Christmas is still about family. I'm lucky that my extended family are spread across the world and grateful each year that cousins, aunts and uncles have invited me into their home to celebrate over the past few years and this year I got to celebrate with a new arrival in my cousins room after seeing my godson on Christmas eve and again on Christmas night. Family comes in many guises; it doesn't mean I miss Mom, Dad and Nickki any less.

It also means I get to learn about and sometime share in other traditions; most Europeans celebrate on Christmas eve, rather than Christmas Day, and it seems that my family have always unknowingly prescribed to this too - we've always had a family dinner and opened presents on Christmas eve, whereas most Irish people are having drinks in their local that night. I lived with a Swedish friend who explained that it was more traditional to have a selection of seafood rather than turkey, ham and stuffing. Even within my country, there were differences: whilst I lived in Kerry, I grew familiar with the tradition of Wren Boys, which I hadn't known growing up in Dublin. Whereas I always seemed to be in some form of transport on St. Stephen's Day (known as Boxing Day to the UK or 26th December) so I could head out to party that night, this year it was all about playing games in my PJ's. In 2013 on the 26th, I was visiting a renowned mountain temple in Thailand. I love the variety that my life and exposure to other cultures brings.

I have no idea where Christmas in 2016 will be spent, hopefully somewhere new and interesting and the idea of still being away is fine with me. I am perfectly content with my nomadic/expat life and as long as it keeps bringing surprises and adventures and often detours from the norm, then I will embrace every second. I hope you all had a wonderful festive season and all the best for 2016.

Deep in the undergrowth and back to comfort

Thursday brought hangovers to the young visitors in the Cain cottage. I awoke to hear someone quite ill in the bathroom next door and I tried to turn over and go back to sleep. After dozing for awhile Gareth and I realized the whole house was awake around us and we had better rouse ourselves for the walk we had planned with the family. Gareth's parents take long hikes almost every day, usually about 9 -10km, rounding up with a hearty pub lunch. The lunch part I completely got, but the school of thought I come from normally involves a bit of a walk to see a nice view or to get somewhere, not to take a detour of a few kilometers. Still when in Wales....

Gareth's Dad was really gracious about the fact that we had all rolled in drunk, slept too late and delayed their plans and we took off through the fields and down through a forest. It was really very pretty and I always appreciate greenery now since I live in the desert. Jenny was stung by some nettles right through her jeans but she recovered pretty quickly. Gareth climbed to the top of an old ruin - I thought he might try and jump off - he just has a boundless sense of adventure and a lack of fear but thankfully his Mum's cries made him come down, through a dark tunnel infested with god knows what! We then made our way down to the beach and it was absolutely breath-taking. I love the sea anywhere, but it was so unspoiled, nature as intended with views of the Welsh and British coastline speckled in places with sunlight and clouds in other areas. I got a bit excited when I thought I could see Ireland - but not from where we were unfortunately. We played on the beach with the doggy and looked in the rock pools for baby crabs. Then we climbed up again to the forest and found a rough path along the coast. The sky threatened rain but I could still hear the buzz of bees on the hedges. There were a few close calls with buzzing in my hair - which induces a worse panic when I'm hungover - and I think Gareth was tiring of my silly phobia. He was also hungover and  I think most of our patience was stretched a little thin!

We came to a beautiful lighthouse where I thought we might have a short break for tea but apparently we weren't half way there yet! We managed to convince Pete that we needed some water but I think he thought we were just lightweights (being completely right!). I was relieved to see a proper path leading back up towards various villages but Coral and Pete thought the low road through another forest might have been more interesting. There were many nettles to manouevre and little streams to jump across which normally I'd find quite fun, but I was feeling a little weary and longed for the normal path. Jenny, Owen and myself were obviously feeling the same as we all hung back, plodding slowly uphill through the forest, we could hear Pete up ahead and it's shameful that people twice our age were not even fazed by the physical activity whilst we tired so easily. Gareth came back a few times for me, particularly after I got nettle stings (managing to get some thorns up my coat sleeves!) and eventually it seemed we were on a road, looking at some lovely cottages and country homes. Finally we were at the pub, but we had missed lunch! The chef was nice enough to provide us some plates of chips and we made do with crisps and chocolate. I still couldn't face an alcoholic beverage and was quite surprised that Gareth could, but he never ceases to surprise me. Pete was jovial and asking me if I'd enjoyed the walk; the truth was that I really enjoyed the first few km, it was my own fault I was hungover and just wanted to sit for the last km or 2. After a few beverages Pete and Jenny decided they would walk home with the dog. The rest of us thought the rain was finally going to come down so we would take a bus back to St. Donat's. The bus-driver was ever so sweet and didn't charge us even though we had about 3 stops; Take note Bus Eireann!

We arrived back to the house as the heavens opened; only for us to realize that we had no keys. Jenny and Pete weren't home so Gareth decided he would climb through our bedroom window to get in. How I wish I had it on camera! So we happily came in out of the rain whilst poor Pete and Jenny got caught in it. For food, a Smorgasbord was decided on - this family could not have been more after my own heart - there was Le Rustique, rocket salad, beetroot, corn beef pie and lots of fresh bread amongst many other tasty delights. My favorite food is tapas, mainly because I find it hard to choose so little bits of many good foods - in any culture absolutely delight me. We all curled up to watch "The Shawshank Redemption" as I had never seen it. The rain battered the windows and the wind howled down the country lanes as we snuggled, drank wine and watched a great film in lovely company. We all retired to bed early and another part of our journey had been completed - leaving me with a feeling of perfect contentment. Saying goodbye to Coral and Pete I felt there was no question I would be back in this wonderful hearth of happiness without any realisement of how wrong I could be.
Hold onto perfect moments and savour them for a few more seconds....

A warm welcome to Wales.

I entered the Cain household in Wales on a gorgeous Tuesday evening and was greeted warmly by Gareth's Mum Coral, sister Jenny and her fiancé Owen. Gareth and his Dad were outside chatting about the TransAm. I was promptly handed a glass of wine (obviously Gareth had told them something about me!) and barely had time to get my bearings before we were all sat down for dinner. When I settled the first thing I noticed was how much warmth was in the room. The house was absolutely immersed in love. I haven't noticed that about many households but as the family bantered and questioned me I couldn't help but settle and be myself; the wine probably helped. After dinner we moved to the sitting-room where Pete waxed lyrical about books and film - I hadn't expected him to be so chatty and welcoming. My preconception of military men was altered considerably! Later, Coral took out some old family photographs and I got a potted history of how their lives had been, and saw how like Gareth's grandmother he was. I think he was embarrassed by all the photo's and stories but he took it in good nature, very typical of him. I left Gareth up chatting to his mum as I cosied up in bed, but he crept in to whisper that she thought I was lovely, which helped me into a comfortable sleep.

Next morning Gareth had to get up to move the TransAm to the local garage. Since it was still dark and stormy outside I was a bit bewildered by him climbing out of bed and groggily said "It's the middle of the night!". I didn't live that comment down for my few days in St. Donat's. I rose much later, a little embarrassed I had slept so late. It was bacon and eggs all round and we took a trip to the local college, a United World College, steeped in history. I have my own history with UWC as I was accepted back in 2008 to a UWC in the U.S and did a UWC short course in Lithuania that year but I didn't pursue the college place. Nevertheless it was interesting been shown around the beautiful castle grounds and gardens, overlooking the sea.

Afterwards it was time for the pub for one or two, and more quizzing me on behalf of Gareth's gran who apparently was very inquisitive about me, or maybe just in general! I offered a background check and my significant digits (waist, bra-size etc) but they said she probably already had those! Back at the house Jenny whipped up a lovely carbonara for us and we got ready to go and meet friends of mine who just lived up the road in Llanwit Major. We had an entertaining cab ride to the Old Swan Inn where we met Sharon and Matt who I hadn't seen in about 3 years. There was a little of the evening sunshine left but soon we went inside to play pool, the jukebox and have some comedy gold from Sharon. The girl should be on stage! The vodkas were flying in, there were specials on Jager and soon Cain family dancing ensued. Interesting to note that Jenny and Gareth dance remarkably similarly, although I'm sure she'll still strenuously deny this! We seemed to have lost Owen for a bit but we found him outside pondering the stars. We certainly weren't ready for the night to be over so we took a walk to Matt and Sharon's place where the Reverend Boult was babysitting their kids. It was a loooooong walk as I remember and considering it was alcohol fueled it must have been quite a distance - Sharon will maintain "It's just around the corner," but at least she regaled us with funny tales of an Irish girl in a Welsh village throughout. The air had gotten to us by the time we reached theirs as none of us could finish the drinks they'd given us; I did however get to see her two beautiful boys, Evan and Sean, tucked up in bed. They looked so peaceful; I'm not sure it's always that way!!! We struggled to get a taxi and at one point Jenny and I thought we'd just sleep on the couch but eventually Sharon's persistence paid off and we got back to St. Donat's. We tried to be quiet but I'm pretty sure we woke Coral and Pete up! Noisy drunken teenagers....oh wait, we're not teenagers anymore! So, a late end to a fun night out - it just shows it's the company and not the place.

Drop into Dublin....

Mum had expressly warned me not to get back to the house in Dublin before them; she is committed to having a spic and span house when anyone comes to visit and Gareth was no exception! So, as we drove into Dublin we decided to see if we could fit in a showing of "Ted" to our packed schedule. It was on our list as films shown in the U.A.E get shredded by the censors so we really wanted to catch it on our "tour". We weren't disappointed! I'm sure I don't have to tell many people that it was the film of the summer. Back to the McBride Madhouse of Merriment and Gareth met my lovely little sister Nickki and her boyfriend, Dave. We all sat down to dinner (Gareth couldn't get over the fact that we serve more than one sort of potato - well it is Ireland!) and a few vinos. Both my parents are pretty good in the kitchen; something I have yet to inherit but am hopeful comes with age. So the food was great, the conversation lively but around eleven I started to flag - maybe it was the 5 hour drive, the constant drinking, the over-exertion in general but everything shut down for me at midnight and I had to go to bed, leaving Gareth in the capable hands of my parents to feed him Spanish liquors and whatever else was going in our little kitchen of wonders. On Tuesday I wanted to show Gareth our Dirty Ol' town of Dublin but he was loathe to get out of bed; he had indulged til the early hours with Mum and Dad and I was pleased he had made such an effort with them so I let him sleep a little longer. We headed into "town" as we call Dublin City in the late afternoon and decided to take in a little culture by way of St. Patrick's Cathedral. It is 800 years old, a stunning example of a period architecture and also houses burial chambers for many marked figures of our history. It was home to Jonathan Swift, author of "Gulliver's Travels" as he was Dean of the Cathedral in the 1700's and it also held the first ever performance of Handel's "Messiah" in 1742. I'm not sure how interesting Gareth found it, although he seemed engrossed at the time, but I really enjoyed it - I love a bit of history now and again. At this point I was getting hungry - and I can be quite a nightmare when I'm not fed. We stumbled across "Corfu" on Parliament Street and definitely thought some tzatiki would go down well. Thankfully restaurants in Dublin seem to have adopted recession-buster menu's so we ordered a 2 course earlybird with a glass of wine for 10euro each - not bad! Corfu was a real find, the feta cheese parcels melted in our mouth, the meatballs were really tasty - all in all just a really lovely meal at a great price. We then moved down to O'Donoghue's on Suffolk Street for a catch up with some of my friends. Cilla, a friend from college, arrived in first, as usual regaling us with tales from school and home. Shortly afterwards Kerry arrived in with a little shriek of delight when she saw me. We ended up with my cousin Al, my sister Nickki, Dougie, Cathal (Kerry's husband) and a few pints whilst the Olympic boxing took place on the tv. After a few hours we decided to find somewhere with music and show Gareth some other great bars in Dublin. On this we failed...miserably. We took him upto the Dakota on South William Street, which used to be one of the hippest places in Dublin but was like walking into an empty cavern that night! By this point I was hungry again so Gareth tried to bribe the barmen by any means possible to rustle up some food (the bar food had finished about 2 hours previous). The best they could come up with was a pear. Gareth proffered said pear to me, I took a bite out of it and threw it back (playfully!) - the bar staff were not amused! Apparently it could have been used for cocktails; I'm pretty sure they weren't going to get asked for any more cocktails that night - we were the only table occupied in the bar. My wonderful boyfriend was fretting about me wanting "chips" so he took to the unknown streets of Dublin to find some for me. Unfortunately he returned empty-handed so at that point we headed to Bob's diner for some garlic cheese fries - lucky him getting to sleep with me that night! It was lovely to see everyone but disappointing we didn't get to see a quality band, usually found all over Dublin on any night of the week. That was the end of our Irish trip - it had been alcohol-fuelled and full of new experiences; I was so glad to have shown Gareth a few new things for his list, and how well he'd been received. I think the general consensus was that Irish women quite like a man with a beard and Gareth's great around parents!

Slievemore - or not?

Day 2 in Achill and I was relieved that I hadn't to drive anywhere far. I'd woken up sometime in the middle of the night realizing that two people in a top bunk probably wasn't ideal and managed to clamber out without waking Gareth - this is quite the feat since I usually inadvertently wake him by unusual means such as hitting him in the face or groin or stomach. I honestly don't mean it - I think it's some kind of physiological disorder (although I do laugh hysterically when it happens; maybe I'm just a bad person). Our aim was to climb Slievemore that day and the weather seemed on our side - it was glorious. I said I'd go up the easy side (the other way is much rockier and overhangs the sea!) so we drove to the base part. I noticed a threatening cloud coming down; the mist had already started rolling down the mountain. It can be perilous up on that mountain in the mist, as one wrong step and you're in trouble. We decided to walk across the hills towards Dooagh instead. We had a look at the ruins in the Deserted Village and enjoyed the sun on our backs as we strolled across the hills. Of course, halfway through we looked back to see the mist had cleared but we were two hours into the walk by then so I wasn't eager to turn back. When we got to Dooagh we decided to continue up the narrow road across the cliffs to Keem Bay but exhaustion started to overcome me so I called April to see if she would pick us up. Gareth kept walking, keen to see Lough Acorrymore. I sat watching small boats out on the ocean and gazing across to Clare Island. When April arrived and Gareth returned we drove over to Keem Bay - an absolutely breathtaking inlet on Achill. Gareth even braved the icy seawater! We had a slightly dissatisfying lunch in the Beehive so visited the Cottage for more food.

 Back at the Valley I had a little snooze whilst a session played in the Courtyard and a few refreshing pints were consumed. When I awoke I realized that I had been seriously sunburned on our walk, I had splotches of red in various places and my nose was like a beacon!! It was down to the bar for another session by the fireplace and good fun with my Dad. At one point he leaned over to me and said "Do you know what I hate about Gareth?" Stunned, I looked at him and waited for him to go on - "Everyone loves him!" He said and winked at me. A boyfriend of mine had finally won Dad's approval! After a few creamy pints of Guinness I had to head off to bed at 12.30am. This was met with shock and dismay to a few people - I'm usually one of the last standing. I think the walk and the sun had just taken it's toll. The jager bottle had been opened and the shots were going down as I crept up the stairs to Room 6.

Destination: The Peoples Republic of Cork

Friday dawned another glorious day in Ireland, we kept our fingers crossed it would hold for Aeda's wedding the next day. After the usual chaotic flurry before leaving the McBride household Mum and I got out the door only seven minutes behind schedule. I had butterflies on the way to the airport to pick up Gareth, honestly wondering whether unleashing my entire extended family on him was a good idea but it was too late to turn back now! When we saw each other at Dublin airport I was subdued, what to say now he had finally arrived. Mum and himself immediately bonded over a good laugh at me, when I realised I hadn't validated the parking ticket. Great, guys.... So we were finally on the road. I was distracted by their conversation, trying to monitor what was coming out of Mum's mouth and whether she could get me into trouble. This led to my driving being rather erratic and then I got nervous. It wasn't a great start. Thankfully Mum took over the wheel and we made it to Cork with no major incidents. After meeting Jen and Liam ( not her husband as she vehemently pointed out to Gareth!) we headed off from the Paddocks and checked into the Midleton Park hotel, we had time for a quick nap and shower and then it was time to meet the family in the bar. Everyone was in good form, the wine was flowing and all of a sudden I start getting pulled aside by various aunts "He's a fine man," , "Good catch there!", " Where did you find that hunk?" were some of the gentler comments I got in the early part of the night. I had visions of Gareth being like a summer Santa and having to give turns on his knee by the end of the night, thankfully there were no such scenes. It was brilliant catching up with everyone and of course I loved the attention Gareth was getting, it definitely brought back memories of Aeda bringing Lawrence home in 2009; it seems our family love a good Englishman! We dragged a few to residents bar and unsuccessfully tried to ply Lawrence with some shots under the watchful eye of Scott and Dangerous Davenport, the best man. They were on patrol but Lawrence needed no watching, he was eager to get to bed and wake up on his wedding day. The last things he said before heading off were "I'm so excited I get to marry Aeda tomorrow,".....all together now awwwwww. We got to bed about 230am, reasonable enough I thought, for Gareths first night in Ireland. What would the wedding day bring?

Mums Day Out

Back in April my mum celebrated her 60th birthday, whilst I managed to get home for the party; there wasn't enough time to do what my sister, Nickki and I had planned for her present.

So, Thursday 26th July was the arranged date for a day out together to spend some quality time - isn't that what most people need more of? We had a leisurely start time of 1130 and we headed to The Lovely Food Company in Terenure for brunch. It really didn't disappoint. The staff were absolutely lovely, my poached eggs and bacon on artisan bread with a tomato relish were a delight and the conversation flowed, we were all in a great mood. That continued as we made our way to Aspen where we had booked in for facials and a massage for Mum. It's a quirky little salon but they succeeded in relaxing all three of us and we had lovely shiny faces after 90 minutes. I made a slight error in judgement in asking them to do my spray tan though. The machine didn't seem to work very well - there was more tan on the floor than on me; I had to assist the girl in doing my own tan and she really didnt have a clue how deep the colour should be! Unfortunately I did end up a bit stripy! Anyhow, we moved on for a spot of afternoon tea in the Cake Place off Pleasant st. What a find! The lemon polenta cake was so light and tasty - I'm still salivating 5 days later! The chocolate brownie was also delectable, so rich. More girly chat and feeling refreshed we even managed to fit in donating 3 full black bags of mum's barely worn clothes to Enable Ireland. Trust mum to fit in something off her to-do list on a girls day out. It made her happy though so that's what counts.

Onto Bluebell, an unlikely location for the "Flavours of Italy" Italian cookery school, where Giuseppe awaited to impart his wisdom on preparing a 3 course Italian dinner. He explained the idea of bruschetta (which really should be pronounced "bruscetta") and offered some ideas for accompaniments - gorgonzola, fresh olive pasta, olive oil with lemon and chilli - our palettes were tantalised but we had some hard work to do first. Downstairs to the kitchen, we had to form teams of five. Unfortunately we were short some people so Mum, Nickki and I formed a team. I thought this was a great idea as other people wouldn't get a look in with us in the kitchen but it put us under pressure later on. First up was the starter - pizza or latticed bread. We loaded up on fresh mozzarella, pancetta and mushrooms and tossed our dough to our hearts content,  Giuseppe's tips as he moved around the kitchen were sometimes welcomed but at other times we wanted to dump some flour over his head. 3 women in the kitchen - possibly a recipe for disaster? We moved on to prepare the dessert - a very typical Italian tiramisiu, here we also had challenges, mum tired of beating the egg whites, Nickki of the yolks and mascarpone, I prepared the biscuits, dipping in orange juice and limoncello and cutting fresh strawberries for a summery interpretation of the sweet. The heat was on at this stage and tempers were fraying at the table, mum tried to escape for a cigarette and all sharp objects had to be removed from my sisters reach. For the main course we tried making our own tagliatelle from dough and preparing a pesto sauce. This was great and team harmony reigned once more. We were ready for the starters when they arrived out of the oven, with a lovely Pinot grigio to wash it down. The latticed bread was a success, the other team complimented us on it too. Overall a great evening out, even with our less than aesthetically pleasing tiramisiu cups. 

Sated from a successful day I fell into bed after the few vinos dreaming of the weekend to come in Cork.....