There’s something about Umbria that makes time stretch. A week feels like forever, yet somehow not nearly enough.

Mornings began slow. Coffee on the terrace, the kind that lingers, with light spilling over the rolling hills. The air smelled of rosemary and cypress. No rush, no calls, no deadlines – just stillness. I’d slip into a bond-eye bikini to catch the morning sun, and dive straight into the pool. There’s nothing more liberating than swimming in that early light, before the day heats up, then soaking up the Umbrian sun poolside all day.

Afternoons were for long lunches that turned into even longer conversations. Trattorias hidden in stone villages, carafes of local wine, plates of truffle pasta, figs so ripe they stained your fingers. I’d laugh with friends, eat too much, then stretch out on the grass and watch the clouds move. Life pared back to the essentials: food, company, and the Italian sun.

Evenings melted into golden hour swims. The pool mirrored the sky, and I floated until the light disappeared, bond-eye bikini still wet with the day’s adventures. Aperitivos followed by Negronis, olives, the hum of cicadas before wandering into town for dinner under fairy-lit piazzas (location details)

It was the kind of pause I didn’t realise I desperately needed. Space to exhale, to let the noise drop away, to simply be. In that rhythm of swimming, sipping, eating, and resting, I felt the reset seep in slowly, gently, but fully.

And for a little extra fun one night we found ourselves at a Lionel Richie concert. Dancing and singing under the stars to All Night Long felt like the perfect soundtrack to a week that was all about joy, freedom and good times.

What I loved most about Umbria was the rhythm. No agenda, no urgency, just good times stitched together with laughter, water, wine, and the occasional spontaneous moment. The bond-eye/Pip Edwards collection felt like part of the landscape – pieces I lived in, wore into the water, then straight to the table.

Sometimes the best style is the kind you forget you’re even wearing. Just like the best weeks are the ones that slip quietly into memory, leaving behind nothing but sun-warmed skin, laughter with friends, and Lionel Richie lyrics Stuck on You.