THE sunlight sent a dappled pattern through the garden's many olive trees, the cicadas were already warming up in preparation for another beautiful day, the coffee was hitting the spot – and to think I'd had doubts about returning to Tuscany.

Silly old me, Italy doesn't do disappointment, at least not in my experience.

And, our excellent base, nestling into the stunning Chianti mountains, certainly did not let us down, either.

The 'us' in question being wife Helen, teenage daughter Laura and, her companion for the break, school friend Holly.

Our two-week holiday had not exactly begun promisingly, which further added to my misgivings about kicking over the traces after an eight-year exile from Tuscany.

A delayed flight from London City Airport was compounded by windy conditions over Florence which meant our first stop was changed to Bologna airport.

This led to a further hour-plus wait until the bags could be transferred from a stationary luggage carousel onto the waiting coaches.

Consequently, by the time we had arrived at Florence airport, picked up the hire car, it meant we were not going to get to our holiday home – some 50 or so miles from the wonderful Tuscan capital – until dark.

So, no time to get the shopping, we'd be bereft of vital victuals with wine wrestling for top place on my list.

Well, we were in Chianti, after all, and it would be rude not to crack open the odd cork – or two.

Again, I needn't have worried as our travel company and gracious hostess rode to our collective rescue.

A quick call to Serena, the local rep with Essential Italy, our booking agents, together with the invaluable assistance of Fabrizia and owner of Casa Fabri, we were more than catered for.

Aching limbs, tired eyes, and yes, a certain tetchiness among the party, not least the driver and harmony was restored to our Tuscan version of sleepy hollow and its grateful guests.

We had used Essential Italy for our previous foray to Tuscany in 2003 – the summer of a lengthy heat wave – and had turned to the Cambridge-based Italy travel specialist this time.

And, with no complaints on either occasion.

Our apartment, Il Fienile was set apart from Fabrizia's five others, and comprised two comfortable bedrooms, a bathroom and large kitchen dining area.

Next morning, rested, if a little frazzled, windows were flung wide open and Casa Fabri's idyllic setting and stunning backdrop further revived our spirits.

Casa Fabri is set in its own well-tended grounds, part of which is a herb gardener's delight, and ancient but still fruitful olive trees, with a nearby vineyard to complete the timeless, rustic landscape.

So, tucked away, yes, but still within 10 minutes or so of the A1 motorway.

Casa Fabri also has a swimming pool, which as the benevolent Italian weather began to percolate to piping hot, became a second home for us.

Now here's a thing: how to balance a desire to experience as much of the area and its legendary rich history without boring teenagers rigid.

Well, we compromised, meaning we looked at the Michelin guide, mapped our strategy for days out and all three ladies got to go where they wanted.

First stop, though, was to acquaint ourselves with our immediate area and check out the nearest town.

Around five minutes drive from Casa Fabri is Cavriglia which, in common with many of the places we visited, is a working town with a vibrant life of its own.

As I'm sure you're aware though, food isn't cheap in Italy any more than it is in the UK, but buying locally at the Co-op and cooking at home helped keep the weekly budget down.

We also spent a memorable evening there, too, when Cavriglia closed off a week-long festival to celebrate the 150th anniversary of the unification of Italy, with songs, wine, more great coffee and fireworks.

Our hire car – a Fiat Bravo – used diesel or gasolino which cost on average about 1.46 euros a litre.

There's no question that four wheels are a necessity, for lovely and relaxing as Casa Fabri is – missing out on trips to architectural wonders such as Siena, Arezzo, Cortona and Florence, in addition to the region's other staggeringly stunning hill-top splendours – would be a cardinal sin.

Fortunately, all were within easy reach.

Even my companions, who had long since stopped feigning interest as I embarked on a signature learned treatise on Tuscany, its importance as a cradle of Renaissance art, architecture, and even banking, suddenly began to show a keen interest in taking in the sights.

I should have sensed a con coming my way then, but guileless soul that I am, I slid helplessly into their trap.

"Dad, we'd quite like to go to Montepulciano and also Volterra", cooed Laura after I'd already indulged all three with a trip to an allegedly cut-price fashion mall, which housed Gucci, Armani, Prada and the like.

As it turned out I was the only one of us to part with money, buying three bars of chocolate from a nice little Lindt shop, offering three for two, good, eh?

A sort of Gucci-coup!

Back to the girls' double-whammy, well, as I hadn't been to either town, it was high fives all round and the deal was struck.

Both Montepulciano and Volterra are about an hour or so south of Casa Fabri, but with navigator Helen riding shotgun, we arrived, parked and with the sun on our backs, la dolce vita it most certainly was.

No travelogue of Italy, though, would be complete without a quick word of advice about Italian driving skills. The word I'd choose is velocity, Italian drivers do not hang about – even on mountain bends more suitable to goats than motors.

Alternatively, you can opt for the motorway which we found easy to reach, the tolls reasonably cheap, although much less fun than pitting your wits, nerve-ends and driving skills against an aggrieved local who wants to be where he's going – only yesterday.

At Montepulciano, which is absolutely stunning, although in the summer months as busy as Oxford Circus at rush hour, the girls blazed a trail and at a pace hitherto unseen on our other excursions.

They hit the same stride in the atmospheric and eerily beautiful Volterra and the reason for the sudden burst of energy became evident once I spotted a picture of Robert Pattinson, lead actor of the absurd but popular Twilight movies.

One of the films (or maybe more, I'd long-since stopped listening to be honest) was filmed in Montepulciano or Volterra – and my young companions can now boast of following in the footsteps of what's-his-name.

Volterra's landscape is markedly different from that of other Tuscan walled cities, and because it is one of the area's highest settlements, the outlook from the many viewing points sucks the breath out of you.

Pure magic.

Our return trip proved to be a breeze from Florence's splendidly compact Peretola Airport, and all too quick to dear old Canning Town and London City airport.

Among our fellow travellers was the playwright and screenwriter Tom Stoppard, who had apparently been filming somewhere in the rolling Tuscan hills.

Mr Stoppard didn't look any more thrilled at trading Tuscany for England than I had been.