Away from the wide expanse of Lerici town, the hotels, restaurants and cafes, and Shelley’s house, forgotten, lies a sheltered bay where many years ago we took young children.

Strange how only some memories survive: the narrow path down to the sea, one high rock where years ago, a small boy would jump from a great height, the narrow hot beach, the shady shadow under the cliff at the side, the Italian women on their mobiles, standing in three feet of water, a form of swimming.