Beatrix pottering: 27 centuries and four years in a day

This was it, we had to finally leave our cosy, friendly, comfortable campsite. We'd had a great four days settling into Sicily, with good food and lots of fun dancing with Italians and making new English friends. But the rest of the island beckoned. And today, our fourth wedding anniversary, our destination was Syracuse.

There are some places I find exciting simply because of their history, and Syracuse is one of those places. It has been inhabited for so many hundreds of years, by so many civilisations, that you can feel the weight of all those lives and their stories in its buildings and walls. We managed to find (on the recommendation of our English friends) a parking spot on a quay right in the heart of the city; and with Jemima in the buggy, we set off.

Kevin and I quickly headed into the warren of tiny alleys between the ancient buildings. Washing hung above us; dogs barked from door entrances; it could have been any era. (Although some of the alleys had steel girders across the gap, presumably to halt an ever-increasing inwards lean.) We then glimpsed blue between buildings, and emerged on the sea wall. It was bright with a brisk wind; the sea to our left was so clear as to appear non-existent; and the buildings to our right were golden and peeling in the sun. We had a glorious walk (Jemima sleeping) around the whole edge of the promontory, then decided on lunch.

The restaurants with the best view, as usual, looked a bit touristy; but we ventured in and Kevin led us off menu: grilled prawns please, plus a caprese salad. The salad was a bit rubbish (how can they serve a tasteless tomato in this country?! Where did they find it?!); but the prawns were wonderful: sweet, succulent, slightly chargrilled; yum. Then a happy walk back to Beatrix.

Jemima woke when we got back. Just as she was starting her late lunch, a sailor's head appeared at our window: "you cannot stay here". Sadly, there went our evening plans of more good eating in Syracuse. But it had been a lovely day. So we headed back north again, so that we could visit Etna.

We went to a highly recommended campsite on the edge of Catania (surviving its rush hour en route); and found another pitch overlooking the black lava-lined sea. I had an amusing time communicating with the campsite man who was married to a German: each sentence included a polyglot mixture of Italian, German and English. Then, given the lateness of the hour, we decided to eat in the campsite restaurant. The service was lovely (decanting our Sicilian red, with strict instructions not to drink it for ten minutes); and the food good (calamari, then fried fish for Kevin, pasta ragu for Jemima, and steak for me). Then back to Beatrix, ready for the excitement of visiting Etna in the morning.

Thank you to my darling beloved husband for a wonderful four years; and I look forward to all our adventures to come.