One afternoon in July a menacing storm brewed over the mountains and progressively advanced in our direction. The sky turned battleship grey and a vicious wind thrashed the olive trees back and forth. Then huge hailstones, just like ice cubes, began to fall from the sky. We speedily took shelter in the caravan but the clattering noise as the chunks of ice battered on the caravan’s roof and nearby tin shed was utterly deafening. The freak storm persisted for almost half an hour, and when we eventually emerged from our refuge we observed leaves and numerous battered olives littered the ground.
At this time we had a very pleasant Danish family staying with us, who found themselves caught up in the storm down near the beach in Sperlonga. Here the hail stones were reported to be the size of tennis balls. When the Danes arrived back at “Tre Cancelle” they began to lament as they examined their severely cracked windscreen and the pitted bodywork of their car.
Many other cars, properties and market gardens in Sperlonga were also damaged during the storm and even the locals said that this had been the worst such storm in living memory.