This article was adapted from the original video published through Amanda Longhurst’s YouTube channel @relocatetoEUROPE.
How a Scottish Winter Led Me to Tuscany
Some people plan their escape to Italy. They dream of it, plot it, orchestrate the perfect move with years of careful preparation. Not me. My arrival in Tuscany wasn’t the result of some grand romantic vision—it was an impulsive decision born out of sheer desperation to escape a Scottish winter and a half remembered short Italian trip years previously. One moment, I was shivering in a friend’s Edinburgh flat, staring down the bleak, grey aftermath of Hogmanay. The next, I was stepping off a plane into the golden light of the Italian countryside.
From Frozen Edinburgh to Sunlit Tuscany
Rewind to 2002. Edinburgh was at its January worst—biting cold, damp air that crept into your bones, and pavements slick with black ice. The flat I was subletting was freezing and went right down to the bones. Then, by pure chance, I stumbled across a classified ad in The Lady magazine (because this was before scrolling online job boards in your pyjamas became a thing).
A Tuscan family needed an English tutor for their two children. The description was sparse but promising: “Come to Tuscany, sun, summer…” That was all the persuasion I needed. I fired off an email, somewhat embellishing my teaching credentials ( A degee in economics is a kind of language, right?). That very evening, the family called. Their English was limited, my Italian was nonexistent, yet within weeks, I was on a plane, bound for a trip and an experience I hadn’t exactly planned.
Teaching, Cooking, and an Unexpected Italian Immersion
The job exceeded all expectations. The family lived in a Tuscan compound of sorts including a breathtaking ancient abbey surrounded by endless vineyards an hour from Florence. Teaching English to two small children in the village? Simple enough.
Or so I thought.
The plot twist? I also had to cook. The family, in an extraordinary display of faith, handed over their kitchen to me. Thankfully, I had always loved cooking and inherited my mothers skill in the kitchen and had always loved cooking Italian.
So after three weeks of cooking, driving the children to Nido, sunshine, laughter, and some explorations into the countryside and nearby cities of Tuscany on my one day off a week, when I took the car, I was falling in love with Italy but my time was up. They offered me a flight back to Scotland. I politely declined. With a handful of tutoring money, a smattering of Italian I had learned from the locals and a newfound appetite for this Italian adventure, I decided to explore more of Italy.
Drifting North: Venice, Then Lucca
I wandered north, soaking in the beauty of Italy’s lake district, revisiting Venice, and then, feeling drawn back to Lucca an ancient city I had visited in one day many years previously on a trip to Genova with a friend, while he had a meeting I took a train towards Pisa and Florence and found Lucca. There was something about that walled city—it’s quiet charm, it’s fascinating. layered ancient streets, the way life unfolded at a pace that felt… right that remained in my memories of that Italian trip years previously.
So I caught a train down to Tuscany from the north with my money fast running out and landed in Pistoia and then Florence and Lucca where I stayed in a catholic youth hostel in the historical centre. I needed work and quickly!
And then, just like before, fate intervened in the form of another classified ad. A British ex-army officer named Mark needed someone to manage his villa overlooking Florence. His guests would be coming from all over Europe, and he needed an expert English speaking Manager who could hold the whole place together
I answered. We met at Pistoia train station and discovered we were born in the same town and after a coffee and long chat he hired me then and there. I had My British passport clutched in my hand for ID.
Olive Groves, a Land Rover, and No Italian
Running a Tuscan villa and olive farm with no grasp of Italian was a lesson in survival. Day one was chaos—I had to coordinate an entire Italian staff around the villa using nothing but hand gestures and sheer force of will. They must have gone home that night and laughed themselves silly at my attempts at speaking Italian.
As the weeks unfolded, I fell into the rhythm of Italian village life. I managed the property, checked in on Mark’s elderly mother, cooked dinners for guests, welcomed them to the charming country rooms with flowers I gathered in the garden and even handled the swimming pool (which, it turns out, doesn’t clean itself). I rose to the challenge and loved every second of it.
Making a Home in Lucca
I knew I wanted to stay when the season finished and winter was on its way. The train from Lucca to the villa was 20 mins. So I went searching and I found a tiny apartment on Via Fillungo, right in the historical heart of Lucca.
I met international friends Elsa, Dina, and Gracia. None of us spoke Italian fluently, but that didn’t stop us from throwing ourselves into the experience. Weekend trips to Cinque Terre, navigating train timetables with wild guesses, making up for our lack of language skills with enthusiasm (and a little wine).
At 42, I had landed in this fabulous life I was creating day by day. Every day was entirely unpredictable, and that was part of the magic.
A Fifth-Floor Walkup and a Landlord’s Leap of Faith
My apartment a mansarda—a small attic flat—on the fifth floor of a building with no lift and five flights of stairs that were a daily workout.
The landlord wanted a deposit. I had exactly 500 euros to my name. That was it. I don’t know how I convinced him, but somehow, I walked away with the keys.
That was it. No return ticket, no concrete plan—just an apartment I was lucky to have found, a city that felt like home, some work in the season at the villa and a feeling that I was exactly where I was meant to be.
And the rest? Well, that was to come . Tune into my channel for the full episode and many more adventures.
