Writer, EFL teacher, trainer, and translator, I was born in Tanzania, have lived in a dozen countries over three continents, and describe myself as an ‘expatriate sin patria’. Wherever I go I make it my business to learn the language, get to know the local people and customs, and discover the country’s remotest corners. I became interested in writing in mid-2006, did a short Open University creative writing course and a Writers’ Bureau course, and began getting articles published in 2007.

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Abbateggio was an isolated spot: there were no telephones, and in winter it was cut of from the rest of the country for long periods, because of the snow.

Maria soon turned out to be an excellent assistant and interpreter for her husband: although she was originally from the north of Italy, she learnt the local dialect quickly. Patients often consulted her first, leaving a ‘cumplimente’, a present, which might be cheese, eggs or potatoes. They opened their hearts to her, and she then communicated what she had learnt to Ugo.

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When I was in Italy last week, we went to Abbateggio (the reason will soon become clear as i develop my 'Family History' blog). We stayed at a wonderful place called Casa Giumentina. We really received an exceptional welcome from the owners, and I offered to edit/translate their website (http://www.casagiumentina.it/index.php). I would be very grateful if you could have a look both at the website and at my edited version below, and let me know what you think - is it clear? (I've already mentioned to the owners that they should quote distances in the directions). Many thanks .

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In Abbateggio, eggs symbolised fertility. The villagers offered Maria so many eggs that she didn't know what to do with them: they ate three for lunch and three for dinner every day, and she even sent a caseful to her mother-in-law in Rome, but there were still plenty left over.

A woman called Filomena was assigned to help Maria around the house, cleaning and going to fetch water from the well. 'Sell the eggs,' Filomena said,

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This time with loads of photos!

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In November 1947, a young man travelled a hundred and twenty miles east from his home city of Rome to the small village of Abbateggio in the Abruzzi mountains. He came from a humble family and was the second eldest of seven siblings. At twenty-three, he was the youngest medical graduate of his year. He had not chosen to come to this inhospitable place far from his family and sweetheart,

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Remember the photo comp I won? (Thanks again to anyone who voted!) Well, my winning photo, another of mine, and twenty-five more were chosen on the basis of votes and the jury's opinion to be in an exhibition which is going round the world (to wherever anyone can organise it!)

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Well, there is a huge difference between the Monday group and the Wednesday group - this really WAS a promotion! There were eight of us: I felt a little uneasy when I arrived as everyone else knew each other and communicated mostly in Arabic

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Today I went for a bike lesson. I’ve been riding a bike for about 48 years, so you may wonder why.

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Published in 'The Oldie', November 2008

Today’s the day: we’re going to buy a painting by a well-known Uruguayan artist. The low autumn sun is bright, and the coast road is virtually deserted. Our destination is Punta Ballena – Whale Point – seventy-five miles east of Montevideo, the Uruguayan capital where we live. A large billboard flashes by: ‘VISA – porque la vida es ahora’: VISA – because life is now. I tap my pocket – yes, my Visa card is there.

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In the October 'Oldie', David Willmott cites the Sinai Peninsula resort of Sharm El Sheikh as one of the 'World's Worst Dumps'. I have just returned from there, and this is my 'Through the Window' Writelink competition entry inspired by my visit.

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