The bells of Basilica di San Giacomo woke us up this morning. They were incredibly loud. I knew we were close but it felt like our bedroom was actually inside the belltower! Thankfully the first peel didn't ring out until 8am.

Once awake I was instantly hungry, but we didn't have much to eat. I had to make do with a set yogurt. The wibbly-wobbly natural yogurt, so popular on the continent, wasn't my favourite.

I put the kettle on. It was one of those whistling kettles that boiled the water on the gas hob. I remember when I was a child that this was what everyone had. An electric kettle was a luxury item.

After my reluctant yogurt and a really nice cup of tea I decided to pop out to get more supplies for breakfast. The expensive looking touristy Alimentari was open and had a suprisingly good selection of inexpensive fresh bread and some cream cheese.

Back at the apartment Julie was up so I made us both a cup of coffee using the classic Bialleti Moka stovetop espresso maker, and using Lavazza red label coffee. The resulting cup was disappointing.

At home we are spoilt with our barrista style coffee machine that makes an excellent espresso. Also we prefer Illy dark roast coffee. 

We spent the morning on the sofa watching Italian Saturday morning television. The programme was called Mezzogiorno in Famiglia. It was another throwback to how Saturday mornings used to be in the UK when we were growing up, with Saturday Swap Shop. Noel Edmonds in the studio with Keith Chegwin and Maggie Philbin out on location encouraging people to take part in games.

Here in Italy grown men from rival villages were pegging socks onto clothes line with their mouths! It was bizarely gripping entertainment.

The rivalry between Subiaco (a town near Rome) and Custonaci (Sicily) continued in the studio.  They played odd party games like passing a playing card from mouth to mouth, or attempting to pick up a wine cork and placing it on top of the bottle by using two pool cues!

All the while long legged short skirted TV presenters were gyrating about like podium dancers.

"Something for the fathers" said Julie.

It really was the strangest light entertainment programme we'd ever seen.

Anyway, time flew and lunchtime arrived. Once again we were short on supplies so we eventually left the apartment. But only after getting the hairdryer out to dry Julie's soaking wet shoes!

We didn't get far, soon stopping at a cafe on Piazza di Chiesa for a proper coffee.

Despite the light rain and the piazza being more of a car park, we still sat outside. The view wasn't anything special but the coffee was excellent. The service was also excellent. The octogenarian waiter Emilio (or was he Augusto his brother) was a real character. Apparently they were third generation of the Bifolco family, founders of the cafe which opened in 1919.

It gave us time to have a closer look at the statue of the madonna pellegrino on top of a slender column rising from the granite fountain.

The pilgrim madonna was a later addition in 1947. Comissioned in 1897 by an English gentleman called Mr. Pical to celebrate the 60th anniversary of Queen Victoria’s reign, the fountain was originally crowned with a star and located in the garden of Villa Gotica before being relocated here in 1910.

 We moved on, searching for a sausage for Julie. At Butti the butchers she couldn't find what she was looking for. Across the road, in Alimentari, ironically the pre-packed sausages they stocked were from Butti!

We returned to our apartment for lunch. I had bought some wonderful looking chargrilled artichokes, which I mixed with some eggs to make a delicious fritata. Meanwhile Julie fried her sausage with leftover potatoes.

Before coming to Bellagio we had agreed to go with the flow, no itinerary, no strict schedule, but it was now 3pm and today's "flow" was in danger of becoming stagnant. So we decided to actually do something with the rest of the day.

We headed out, walking past the Grand Hotel, its sign standing out in the mist that hadn't lifted all day.

We walked along the lakeside. The promenade was actually called Piazza Giuseppe Mazzini which was a little confusing. It wasn't a piazza but a street that ran along the lake front where the ferries came and went.

There was a familiar smell as we made our way down. This guy was selling roasted chestnuts, a snack I thought was a very British delicacy but turns out to be also a very Italian tradition.

We continued our way down the promenade, passing the Hotel Excelsior Splendide, another classic grand hotel that has been welcoming guests since the turn of the 20th century.

A little further along we came to an incredibly beautiful looking builing. The Hotel Grande Bretagne looked derelict yet it was still the most stunning property along the lakefront. It was one of the first major hotels to open in Bellagio in 1873.

It closed as a hotel in 1972 but continued as a hospitality college for a while before standing empty for the last twenty four years.

We wondered what was to become of it.

A little further down the path we came to the gated entrance of Villa Melzi d'Eril. The villa itself wasn't open to the public, only its grounds and gardens. We paid €8 for a two-day pass. It was €6.50 for one day but the forecast for tomorrow was better.

Apparently the gardens were well known within the horticultural circles. Monty Don, a British TV broadcaster and presenter of Gardeners' World, dedicated a whole series to Italian Gardens a few years ago which featured Villa Melzi d'Eril. 

We followed the path away from the lake, into the ornamental garden where a small arched bridge spanned a pond in a very Japanese way. The autumnal leaves of the Japanese maple elevated the scene into something magical.

We soon returned to the lakeside path when we saw a small pavillion, a domed kiosk with Arabian flourishes, whose doors and windows were open to the elements. It would have been a spot to shelter, more from the sun than inclement weather, perhaps to stop for refreshments whilst walking through the park. 

Inside were four marble busts,  namely Lodovico Melzi d'Eril (nephew and adopted son of Francesco Melzi d'Eril) and his second wife Josephine Barbo, also Emperor Ferdinand I of Austria and his queen consort Marie Anne of Sardinia & Savoy.  The Melzis clearly thought very highly of their standing within the royal order. 

The marble statues weren't just contained within the small pavillion. Just outside was a statue of Dante and his Beatrice, the woman who guides him through Paradise in the third and final part of his 14th century masterpiece, The Divine Comedy. He also wrote about a Beatrice in an earlier unrelated book called La Vita Nuova, (the new life) which is believed to be inspired by a real life Beatrice (Beatrice Portinari) with whom it was believed he was infatuated.

A short distance away was the villa. It wasn't especially attractive. In fact it was a very plain white facade with evenly placed windows and pale blue shutters, running along the first and second floors.

It was built by Francesco Melzi d'Eril, the first Duke of Lodi in 1813. The house was still a private residence, owned by his descendant, Fulco Tommaso Gallarati Scott,i, the current 7th Prince of Molfeta. The shutters were all shut so I don't think anyone was home.

We continued along the shoreline past an old Venetian gondola, which was a long way away from home. It was set up on blocks and now more of an ornament but we wondered if the Melzi family ever used it as a pleasure boat on the lake. 

The path continued along the lake but we decided to loop back around a stunning and enormous cedar tree. It's leaves were dark green and like needles of a christmas tree.

We returned towards the villa where behind it was an orangery, a large elaborate conservatory or glasshouse. Traditionally it would have been filled with exotic plants however today it housed a small museum. 

Amongst the artefacts was a 4th Century BC Greek funerary relief  from Apulia, other ancient Etruscan funerary stones, and several marble busts including that of Napolean looking very Emperor like. 

They also had what appeared to be a Roman standard, a staff topped with a golden eagle, what was known as the Aquila.This was however a Napoleaonic Eagle. The French ruler was so inspired by the Romans he adopted the standard for his armies as they swept through Europe. 

We left the museum, deciding we had seen enough and it was time to head back towards Bellagio. 

The weather forecast for tomorrow was much better, perfect to adventure out a little further afield. "We should go there tomorrow" I suggested pointing across Lake Como in the direction of Griante. 

"Wny, what's over there?"  asked Julie.

"Can you see that church on the side of the mountain?" I asked. "I'd like to go there"

"Oh" was all she could say. I don't think she was waiting for me to admit to pulling her leg, she knew it was the sort of thing I would want to do.  So her "oh" wasn't a "no" which was as good as a "yes" to me.

We coul see small taxi boats zipped back and forth from Bellagio to Griante but the cheaper traghetto ferry boats  also did the route. So it was agreed. Tomorrow we climb a mountain.

Before leaving the vicinity of the Villa Melzi we took one last look down the lake where we noticed the stunning Villa del Balbianello at the tip of a forested peninsula. We could see signs the day was finally begining to warm up as the mist was literally lifting from the trees like smoke.

We followed a different path back through the gardens, a higher path through the gardens rather than following the lakeside. There was less magnificent views, more fascinating trees and shrubs. 

One in particular caught our attention because of its distinctive mottled bark looking more like a camouflage jacket. It was called a London plane, a hybrid cross between an American Sycamore and an Oriental Plane.

It wasn't long before we reached the gates of Villa Melzi d'Eril, retracing our steps back, following the lake towards Bellagio. The walk back took us a lot longer because I kept on stopping to take a photos.  

It was such a beautiful place. I still couldn't believe we were finally here, ten years after deciding we should visit. What took us so long? We've been to so many places in the last decade, I think we forgot about Bellagio. 

We stopped at a jewellers window, a moment that strikes fear into every man, but what caught Julie's eye wasn't the sparkle of a diamond but some novelty canine rings.

 The four legged friends were shaped  to slip onto the finger, chin and two front paws resting together on one side and their tail and hind legs sticking up on the other side. They were super cute, available in several popular dog breeds. Some were just silver others had been painted.

Then Juile spotted the Border Collie ring and loved it. "Oh look, it's Sylvester!"

They weren't cheap. (Although Julie didn't buy one here, she made note of their website and when she got home bought herself the Border Collie ring!)

We ended up back at Bar Rossi where we shared a bottle of prosecco and an apple pie. Although "shared" is loosely used term. Julie was at a disadvantage because they only brought one fork out which fell into my hands. Before I knew it I had eaten the vast majority of it!

We sat for about an hour watching the sky turn to blue. It was fastly becoming a lovely evening. For the first time since we arrived we could see the summits of mountains that shape Lake Como.  The most striking of them was Monte Grona, a striking rocky peak towering above Menaggio, to the North West.

The sun was now setting gloriously bathing everything in its warm glow.

Once it dipped behind the mountains to the West we decided to head back to the appartment, calling in the small local grocery store on the way for some supplies. We filled our paper bag with a bottle of Anniversary fizz, two large potatoes (for baking) and an enormous pre-roasted beetroot. I'd never seen a pre-roasted beetroot in a grocery shop before.  It was like buying a fresh pre-cooked jacket potato.

Back at the appartment we relaxed listening to music whilst Julie did some knitting and I wrote up my journal. Our original plan was to have baked potato for supper. They were even already in the oven. But in the end we decided to find a restaurant for our supper.

Our searches online brought up a resataurant called Barcheta (Ristoro Forma e Gusto). It was only a few minutes walk away in the heart of the town, down a side street salita.

It was a pleasant evening, nice enough to dine al fresco, so we sat outside in the street. They did have a couple of heat lamps to take away the worst of the chill.

We both skipped any antipasti and dived straight into the primi main course. Julie went for the gamberoni, six large grilled prawns, served with uninspiring looking yet tasty nonetheless patate fritte, fried potatoes.

At €18 it was expensive but Julie didn't mind paying €3 per prawn. She really enjoyed it, or at least until the last prawn but one shat itself, depositing some brown gunk all over her plate, ruining some potatoes in the process. It turned her stomach and she struggled to finish her plate after that.

I had pizza but despite being in Italy my Siciliana wasn't the best. The basics were disappointing. The base, the cheese, the tomato sauce all failed. If it was a marguerita it would have been the worse pizza in Italy. However, the  caponata topping, a sweet & sour Sicilian aubergine stew was delicious.

After paying the bill we moved on, deciding to continue the evening. Earlier in the day we had seen posters advertising Live Music somewhere, so we went in search of it. All the noise we found were three old men and a karaoke machine in Bar San Remo.

To be fair one of them was playing a musical instrument. He was stood behind his keyboards, and his sidekick in a stripey jumper was hunched in front of his laptop.

The third member was sat down at one of the tables.  He was a large bloke and I'm sure he was blind so it was probably much safer for him to be sat down.

As the evening wore on I began to feel some admiration for them. They were three old men just doing what they love and the one who was sat down had a great voice.

There was a fourth member, a non-performing member who went around asking people for their requests. "What would you  like to hear?" he asked "an English or Italian song?"

I opted for the local language, to keep it more authentic. He then caught me out by asking for a name of an Italian artist that I like.  The first name that popped into my head was Zucchero. With the exception of a few opera singers he was the only name I could recall. His nickname was "the father of Italian Blues".

He nodded his approval and before I knew it they belted out a Zucchero song that I recognised but couldn't name.

The beer and wine was flowing as the bar descended into a raucous party with people jumping around to a dance mix-tape, forming a "conga" line weaving its way around.

 Even the owner joined in showing off his tray spinning skills. It was a riot!

Unable to cope with any more top class light entertainment we left the bar and returned back to the safety of our appartment. It had gone past midnight.