Somewhere beyond the sea

He's back. The quick-witted guy with the shaven head and a talent for fixing problems. A snappy dresser who attracts many women yet rarely notices the effect he has. Someone who frequently irritates his superiors but makes friends nearly everywhere he travels.

Sadly that's not a description of me, although I’ll admit we do have a few traits in common. I'm talking about the ever-impressive Italian detective Inspector Montalbano, who's just started a new series on BBC4.

I reckon the main difference between us is that Montalbano avoids my fondness for inappropriate humour that can ruin any moment. No-one really wants a laughing policeman.

Anyway, Commissario Salvo Montalbano works in the fictional Sicilian town of Vigata; a place that seems to be the perfect holiday destination. And the more I think about it, the more Vigata seems to be rather like Lewes.

Vigata - or perhaps its real-world location Porto Empedocle - is a long-established town with plenty of history, high-quality restaurants and tourists. It's acclaimed for its writers and for a colourful annual parade with a religious theme. You’ll even find a decent firework display.

The two towns could almost be twinned if it wasn’t for the complaints you’d hear across the English Channel from Blois and Waldshut-Tiengen.

Yes, Lewes and Vigata certainly share a great deal of culture and tradition. But one of the things they also share is my label of ‘tourist destination’ rather than ‘potential home’.

I'd love to visit but I really don’t think I want to live there. Aside from the constant trek of sight-seeing visitors past your front door, there's a somewhat disconcertingly heavy police presence, there’s the invariable challenge of trying to fit in with the local community - and all this set against the persistent background of Mafia activity.

I imagine things are much the same in Italy.

Incidentally, my wife finds Montalbano as compelling as I do, although not for all the same reasons. I noticed she wasn't as distressed as I was when Montalbano's swimming trunks fell off in the most recent show. Still, she says I should be reassured that Salvo and I have a similar haircut.

In fact, she’s actively encouraging the similarities. As we finish our arancini and drain a glass of prosecco, my wife poses a question. "Can you speak with an Italian accent?", she asks, seductively.

"Corsican", I reply.

First published on vivalewes.com 6th September 2012: http://vivalewes.com/