FONTANA LIRI SUPERIORE WINE FESTIVAL (Cancelled due to rain)

The weather forecast was not promising, I'll admit. After weeks of dazzling sunshine and breath-snatching heat, it was bound to rain. Anything scheduled annually for October 27th & 28th is going to be chancy; I'm sure they've been rained off before.

But theses sorts of festivals take time, coordination, energy, raw ingredients, baking, marquee erection skills, brochure design, courtesy bus hire, and possibly a low-key police presence to ensure safe and sensible parking. It is a tragedy in miniature when it gets rained off.

I was rather looking forward to this festival. We had visited the tiny town before, coiling cautiously up the snakelike ascent to the hilltop, parking dubiously, and wandering its doll-like streets, admiring it's full-sized and breathtaking views.

We had been given a three-fold glossy colour brochure about the festival in the local hardware store, and the man in the hardware store mimed for us a delightful evening of wine, food, and, well, wine again. The courtesy bus ensured that visitors to the festival who might be concerned about drink-driving could safety arrive and depart without getting behind the wheel.

The brochure made great reading. Thirty venues were listed as vying for our attention, with such offerings as small gnocci in scampi cream, crepes, tortillas, chestnuts, polenta, spiralled potato crisps, tortiglioni carbonara, grilled pancetta with truffles, paella, and (with a nod to the Americans) hot dogs with ketchup. Fried pizza was in evidence, as it was in Colli, and fried fish; wine was scheduled to be in evidence everywhere.

The festival was on a Saturday night and from noon onwards on the Sunday. We were at a mandolin concert of Saturday night so choose to visit on Sunday at lunchtime. Saturday night was a bit blowy and rainy. Sunday morning was blowy enough to merit closing all of the dark green wooden exterior shutters, and although the temperature gauge still read a balmy 21C it was wildy wet and windy by the time we left. We were hoping to be on the doorstep dead on noon, having had a light breakfast, and anticipating a glorious lunchtime.

I had one of those heart/head battles on the approach to the town. My heart desperately wished that the brave little town would, against all odds, hunker down and open the festival, taping, gluing, and nailing everything down that could conceivably blow away, and put a brave face on it all. By my head told me that it was very unlikely that there would be so much as a panini wrapper to be had in the town square; food tastes better out of doors, but rainy street food is not many peoples' idea of a good time.

Sure enough, we arrived in the square only to find a few forelorn, parked cars, wall papered with damp leaves, and a local mongrel dog supervising proceedings. My positive heart told me that everything was taking place higher up the hill, safely protected from the elements by the narrowness of the streets, and the height of the buildings. My negative head told me that absolutely nothing of any interest was going on at all, anywhere.

A dapper and soulful-looking gentleman ambled by, trying not to look too defeated by his umbrella, which was determined to turn itself inside out in the high wind. He confirmed that the festival had been cancelled, and he sorrowfully mimed rain. I wondered if he had left an exhausted wife at home, in her kitchen, wondering what on earth to do with eighty uneaten pizza bases and a mega-vat of pasta sauce.

There were strands of police tape pointlessly flapping about, a few metal curb barriers protecting nothing at all, and the street dog, eyeing up our car with the fervour of a Customs and Excise inspector. I am extremely fond of this tiny town, for no apparent reason apart from it's charm, its minuteness, and it's determination to hang onto the cliff on which it is perched, for as long as possible. I wished so many good things for this, it's special festival day, but my wishes weren't strong enough, or my prayers were not heard; it was well and truly rained off.