Old Farmhouse in Tavoleto.

In Tivoli, we stayed in a house so old that strange arches rose suddenly out of the floor into the walls, a telltale sign that ancient door archways existed beneath our feet buried under successive layers of history - the middle ages, the Renaissance, the Belle Époque... Since Tivoli was built onto a steep hillside, our AorBnB apartment had its bedrooms downstairs. I disliked the corridor that lead into the common bathroom. It seemed to both The Daughter and me that there was a creepy presence in that corridor and in the bathroom. Then too, the piping in my own bedroom's attached bathroom gave out the smell of sewage that permeated the whole room. The hot water came in intermittent spurts so whether you liked it or not, you had a Roman bath which consists of alternately dipping in cold water and then hot.

Leaving that apartment, I made my family promise to whack me if I ever booked an historical property again.

Then, in Perugia, we found ourselves in a large sprawling property belonging to a doctor. His lands were on the outskirts of Perugia and had all sorts of fruit trees, a main house and 2 small cottages to house his children's families when they came to visit. We took one of the small cottages. The cottage was warm and had ample hot water. We loved it.

Today, we moved to Tavoleto, a tiny village on the outskirts of Urbino. The village has one main street, one butcher, one hardware store, one supermarket, one baker, one pharmacy... and I was really surprised to find that it had its own castle. The instructions to get here read thusly - Follow the road till you come to a red brick house that has NOT been plastered over. Take the white gravel road 200m and you will have reached."

I kid you not. We did encounter a fully inhabited house festooned with X'mas lights that looked half built and completely unplastered. The raw red bricks stood nakedly in the half light of the setting sun. Our car drove into a one car gravel lane and arrived at an ancient farmhouse that looked right out of a picture postcard.

"Uh oh... old house again!" I cringed to myself.

The house sits beside an olive grove and is guarded by a maremma sheep dog, called Luna, who is so old that she opened one eye as we parked and then went back to nap. The whole house wears its centuries of age elegantly, its decor an interesting contrast of the very old and the very new. A gleaming new clawfoot bathtub sits in the huge bathroom, with red clay tiles at least 200 years old.. The toilet bowl's water cistern looks 60 years old and its ancient chain has been replaced with a peach coloured silk tasselled cord. Ancient plasterwork of roses sprout like tumbleweed over the fireplace. A modern (but still old) firestove sits comfortingly inside another ancient fireplace. Heavy armoires and hefty chests of drawers,with ornate carvings from mismatching eras, offer ample storage. A brand new stand lamp with pretty flowers is a pop of new in place of old. The tiled roof and its roof beams are visible when you look up. No wonder this house is cold! Only a thin layer of roof tiles separates us from the cold outside. Happily, the beds have heated mattress pads and the hot water comes in a steady stream. Bed is warm and showers are hot.

There is literally complete silence. No cars. No chickens. No cows. We are in the middle of nowhere at the end of a gravel driveway, 200m behind an inhabited house that someone forgot to plaster. When the sun rises, an extraordinary view reveals itself. Green fields roll away from the house, interspersed with olive groves, persimmon trees, cypresses and a few houses.

This is bliss. Maybe old houses aren't so bad after all!

The Husband and I decided that living in this house is an experience in and of itself, to savour. We declared that we would spend all day in this house, cooking, eating and living. I spent 1.5 hours just cooking in the kitchen and staring at the view outside the kitchen door.

Oh... one can get used to this peace and silence.