Day 4 - Torrita Tiberina, Calcata and Sant’Oreste

Our quest to find the mountain started with a stop in Torrita Tiberina, where we stayed briefly to have a coffee, get some medical supplies for the various ailments being experienced by some of our troupe, and to walk around the 12th century village. It was a nice if unremarkable location, distinguished primarily by the views and the fact that people are still living in a 12th century village. If this were England, I suspect that such a place would either have been torn down and modernised, or opened as a living museum. It is the residential areas that seem to mark Italy out as being foreign. Particularly in this mountainous region where villages are built on the tops and sides of hills, there really isn't a visual equivalent in England.

We did succeed in finding our mountain, which supported a town called Sant’Oreste. This was more expansive than the previous place, and no less quirky. It was a fairly lively, up and down place, and not overwhelmingly touristy, which is always a bonus. However, this also meant that we spent the best part of an hour trying, and failing, to find a restaurant. We opted instead for a quick slice of takeaway pizza and then a drink in one of the bars, which was very modern and pleasant. Under the shelter of the bar's awning, we were shielded from the gathering storm clouds, before departing once more, this time for Calcata.

En route, the storm broke (there has been an impressive thunderstorm every day so far, at about the same time in the afternoon). On arrival at Calcata, though, we were back in the blazing sun, ready to be stunned by our location.

Apparently Calcata was an abandoned town, until the artists rediscovered it, moved in, and turned it into a sort of Artists' Quarter similar vaguely to Paris's Mont Martre. It is now home to various creative types, and they couldn't have chosen a more inspiring location. The narrow streets wind up and down, taking you down steps into little cubby holes that end in someone's home, or taking you right up to the edge of the village, when you can look down into a sheer drop of several hundred feet, ending in a verdant valley with a stream running through it. Crazily, one inhabitant whose home is right over this valley has strung up a hammock at the precipice, lending a whole new danger to the idea of getting out of the wrong side of the bed.

Our final destination on this tour was to Lake Bracciano, a large body of water that apparently contributes to Rome's water supply. It is another lovely sight, but for the first time we found we had entered a tourist zone, which meant that although staff spoke good English, prices were inflated, and goods were more generic. Rather than the attractive LemonSoda soft drink, the equivalent here was Sprite.

As we sat and ate ice-cream while looking out across the lake, we saw the sky grey over and on the opposite bank of the lake the bizarre grey smudge of heavy rainfall somewhere else. The journey back to the villa took us through this very heavy storm, so we were treated to another impressive, if unnervingly close, display of fork lightning.

Back home and a delicious meal cooked by Pete and Sally was followed by a fab session of karaoke - songs from the musicals. Led unsurprisingly by Alice's fantastic voice, David, Ingrid, Jacquie and at points Zoë and Sally took us through the songs in Guys and Dolls, then we moved onto other musicals.

Perhaps it was the wine, or maybe the wonderful company which makes you feel totally at ease, but I felt a rising desire to sing myself. I then surprised myself further by doing just that, first of all on familiar ground with "Always Look on the Bright Side of Life" which I somehow ended up singing solo on the verses. The biggest surprises of the night were the lack of derision which greeted my contribution, and the fact that I felt confident aiming for the high notes in Phantom of the Opera. I think I just about got there, I enjoyed myself and once again no one laughed. My old friend Insecurity soon returned, however, to whisper in my ear that actually people were being too polite to laugh and I had, in fact, made a complete tit of myself, which isn't difficult given the amount of talent I was up against. I seek reassurance drunkenly from Zoë, who obliges, before getting my head down in preparation for an arduous day of reading, snoozing and chilling by the pool.