I'm lying on the beach, Aperol Spritz in one hand, espresso in the other. The dulcet tones of Italian couples surround me, chain smoking cigarettes as their skin turns a deep shade of brown - while mine, pale and pink-hued, remains firmly underneath the shade of my umbrella.
It's hot, properly hot, and the sun is beating down as temperatures soar above 30 degrees - and I'm flipping through pages of my novel, enjoying the backdrop of both ocean and mountains. You'd be forgiven for thinking I'm visiting the likes of the Amalfi coast or Capri - with the Italian delicacies, sandy beaches, hilltops and baking sun so many Brits seek out during the summer months.
