I’ve just returned from a lovely peaceful week in Puglia, near Otranto. The weather was very hot and dry, and the air was full of the sound of crickets. I shared my cool room with geckos; I swam in the warm, salty, gorgeous Adriatic sea; I saw thousands of olive trees, they all seemed to be old, gnarled and many were twisted, growing like corkscrews; and I realised each tree is an alchemist, transforming the red dust of Puglia into golden-brown-green olives. The local olive oil bread, called puzza, is wonderful. On waking, early, I walked about inside the yard of the masseria. The early morning air smelled delicious – smoky, earthy, pungent. Redolent for me of early mornings in southern gardens with pools, kingfishers, enormous angel trumpet flowers, terrapins, goldfish.
I visited the 9th century tiny Greek Basilica on the hill-top of Otranto, saw amazingly beautiful 9th century frescoes of Christ washing the feet of his disciples, and the Last Supper.
One night I had a dream in which an old friend visited me. She was wearing a black dress, very fine and thin, silky, embroidered. On her lap was a cheetah. She was speaking and many people were lsitening. When she had finished speaking she placed the cheetah on my lap, she gave her to me. Later that day I saw a wildcat crossing the wall near the Masseria. It looked so wild and alert. It didn’t seem to care that I was also there.