Along the Alps-facing panorama of Lago di Como, I cast a soporific eye. Squinting into the afternoon sun on my Juliet balcony, I’ve an ear cocked to the lilting narration of David Gower and Nasser Hussain emanating from the television as the Second Miracle of Headingley transpires. Its soundtrack wafts past me and over the floating pool colonised by international hardbodies, gently buffeted by the lake.

That morning’s meander through Bellagio was thwarted by rain. Like Tim Paine’s men grafting in Leeds, the choice conditions have eluded us. Occasioning, happily, upon centurion ristorante Silvio at the outskirts of town, we tuck into lake-caught pike and rice – and conclude with hunks of white chocolate – in its glistening conservatory.