‘Any arbitrary turning along the way and I would be elsewhere; I would be different.’
Frances Mayes, Under The Tuscan Sun
Rolling Hills and Tuscan Treats
From twenty-four hours wandering through the buzzing, cobbled streets of Florence, crossing piazzas full to the brim with Renaissance statues, architecture, and people, to a gloriously peaceful 13th-century farmhouse hidden in the Tuscan countryside—Ebbio—May began with Emma Gannon’s Creative Retreat.
Creativity needs space—space to dream, to disconnect, and to reconnect with ourselves. That’s what this retreat through Aweventurer became for me: a place where instinct led the way, and where I rediscovered the joy of adventuring into the unknown. Those short six days contained an experience far greater than the hours, minutes, and seconds that passed—broader than the expansive horizon stretching beyond the setting sun most evenings. And yet, trying to capture its impact feels almost as elusive as Daphne du Maurier’s red-hooded figure darting just out of sight down Venetian alleyways—always felt, yet just beyond words. (And far less sinister of course.)
It has taken me these last few weeks (we’re now almost at the end of May) to reflect on the memories, the moments, and the takeaways, which I’ll share here. But let me tell you what prompted me to sign up in the first place.
Decision Made
Back in June 2024, having recently subscribed to The Hyphen, Emma’s publication on Substack, up popped an email announcing her Creative Retreat in Tuscany. I’d longed for the tranquillity and self-reflection of a retreat in such a beautiful setting for years, so that was it—decision made. Ten months out, I was one of the earliest to say, “Yes, please.”
I didn’t quite know what to expect, especially as I had no prior connection to anyone attending. While I knew Florence from previous trips, I also hadn’t flown or travelled solo in over ten years. When I said goodbye to my husband at London City Airport—having never flown from there before—the butterflies took up residence inside me. What was I going to discover? Would I find the pause I needed? Who was I going to meet? So many unknowns.
All I knew was that I had followed my instincts and chosen adventure.
Alone in Florence
Florence had long been a city I’d wanted to visit—and then, like buses, three trips arrived at once. First, June 2023: a city-break for my stepdaughter’s 30th birthday, where we played tourists, posed for photos of The Ponte Vecchio, the cityscape of spires and domes behind us, and ticked off the must-sees. Then, June 2024: a family holiday near Pistoia, with Aperol Spritzes, pizza, and slow afternoons watching the world go by. And now, here I was again—this time, alone. No itineraries. No queues. Just freedom to explore.
Some of my fellow retreaters were arranging meet ups across the city but as we were spread far apart, and with the freedom to choose my own company, I decided to head back to our favourite people-watching spot- Menchetti Firenze – this time for an unaccompanied dining experience of cocktails and anti-pasti. And I celebrated the liberating feeling of stepping into my solo traveller shoes again after so many years.
Vibrant Colours at Every Turn
After a peaceful night’s sleep and breakfast in my airconditioned hotel, I had a few hours to fill before our transport out of the city, so I stored my luggage and ventured out again into the heat and the crowds. Following my nose down a side street and snapping pictures of brightly coloured vases, I happened across an artisan shop selling preserved flowers and vibrant quicky paintings by a local artist. I bought two. I couldn’t resist.
I also took refuge from the bustling centre, now bursting with lunchtime trade by ducking into the Palazzo Strozzi for the Sex and Solitude Tracey Emin exhibition. I responded to the force of her rebellious feminine energy. I absorbed her messages of solitude. Tracey and Florence were telling me it was time for creativity and quiet reflection. I took the hint and returned to the cool marble floored foyer of my hotel to read until it was time to journey onwards.
Even in Florence I felt the pull of what lay ahead. Before I left, a good friend had asked, ‘Ooh, what will you be working on?’
‘My relationship with my second novel. I need to get unstuck.’
Onward Travel
I joined the group at the pick up point, and felt an instant connection as we travelled south through the landscape of olive groves, grand villas and cypress trees. We got straight into the important stuff; why Tuscany, why this retreat, what were our hopes? And the thorny issue of my work-in-progress resurfaced. They understood. How wonderful to spend time in the company of other writers who get it.
For an hour we were caught in the bubble of happy chatter until we snaked up a narrow track, our voices replaced by the crunch of tyres on gravel, stopping outside a large farmhouse. Inside, a reverent hush settled over us as we climbed the stone steps sculpted by centuries of feet. History was giving us a hug, and I let myself lean in.
The landing opened into a large communal living space, with an impressive, vaulted ceiling and an inglenook fireplace. Our chorus of ‘wows’ merged with gasps of delight at the lingering scent of woodsmoke, whispering of future evenings snuggled under blankets. Like the exquisite undulating hills and vast Sienna skies, glimpsed beyond the wooden-shuttered windows, Ebbio’s rustic beauty had an other-worldly, filmic quality. Fingers crossed, this was the place to untangle my stuckness, Under the Tuscan Sun.
Five days flew by with painting and cookery classes, journalling and morning yoga, wild swimming and delicious food. Emma led several group creativity sessions, which served as jumping off points into story telling, visioning and self reflection. 
I had thought I’d seek solitude and spaces to write. I had imagined working on the novel but found myself instead, drawn to meaningful conversations and soulful connections. Pockets of time spent in twos and threes, sharing personal stories and updates on our progress. No pressure to follow the itinerary. Everything optional and structured to fit between the farm grown, freshly cooked meals served as a bountiful buffet and eaten alfresco round a large marble table on the terrace.
Soulful Connection
And somewhere along the way this group of strangers became forever connected by a unique unforgettable experience. I’ve not shared every detail; it would take too long and I’ve not yet fully absorbed the joy of solo travel or the preciousness of our time together. I want to parcel it all up into a memory box, ready to open up and re-live the moments, if, and probably when, I get stuck again.
I can’t say I took an arbitrary turning. I chose Emma’s retreat instinctively and deliberately. But. It did take me elsewhere and I am now different, and very grateful for it too.
P.S. A few days later, I retreated again, this time through the rolling hills of Oxfordshire, for a day of Substack with Ease and Claire Venus, to work on my plans for a new publication on Substack. What a glorious day spent with yet another group of talented creative souls. You can read more here.