The settlement consists of a cluster of houses and apartments with a line of restaurants and a small hotel taking the beachfront position. The far end of the beach has a private area and pier cordoned off for the use of hotel guests.

Marina Puolo has a beach ‘Don’ who goes by the name of Angelo. Angelo has a monopoly on parasol and bed rentals along with ownership of the dubious looking pedallo. As soon as you reach the bottom of the hill, he or one of his cronies starts setting up your pitch. The sales technique is perfect – no one just opts for lying on the beach.

Angelo knows a fine array of stock Ameri-English phrases and choruses from popular hits of the day, which he shares with everyone that passes. His day is spent playing a particularly fast, unidentifiable card game that involves a great deal of shouting. There is the odd flurry of activity as a parasol needs to be planted but these occasions are fairly few and far between. He has a constant supply of beer and cigarettes that makes its way to him from several of the restaurants along the front. Angelo usually finds time to cram a siesta into his busy day. He and his cronies demonstrate the comfort of their loungers for a good couple of hours most days.

My anthropological study of Angelo and his ‘family’ was assisted by the Blonde’s affection for Marina Puolo. A mere quarter of an hour from our apartment, the beach became our home and Angelo took on the combined role of errant uncle and cabaret for the week. It’s a great little beach popular with locals – on the weekend the small bay was packed with boats that brought families from Naples and further along the coast. There are half a dozen restaurants that always has space and the hiring of two loungers and a parasol for the day came in at €8.

Comfort, inactivity, and cold beer a few steps away – now that’s the kind of lazy holiday I could get into.