40 top tips for Veneto and Venice with kids – water and fire

You may imagine Italy to be a hot sunny country, but violent storms have been a feature of every summer break we have ever spent here. 

After prosecco on our lovely wooden veranda at the end of our first full day, we played with the external blinds. They were huge – about 20 foot wide and 10 foot high and were great for providing evening shade for your decking. Leaving them down proved to be a big mistake.

About 2am the metal poles running along the bottom edge of each blind started to bang against the decking frame. The electric storm had clearly crept across the sea and come for a visit. As the ferocity of the banging intensified, we discussed the wisdom of using the remote control to retract the blinds, thus temporarily extending their reach into the rising storm, before being safely stored in their casing. Before a decision could be made, the electrics went off and this was no longer an option.  The aircon stopped breathing and bright emergency lighting lit up the cabin. It was getting on for 3am. The air was running out and the blind edges were rising higher and slamming down more noisily with each gust of wind. The caravan was shaking and thunder bolts sounded like someone was coming for us with a shot gun.

Over the course of the next hour the four 6 foot metal arms holding the sides of the blinds in place snapped one by one and the material began to swing wildly in full 10m arks like billowing sails with a deadly boom edging. They twisted in the gale as sheets of rain slid horizontally over the decking. The now exposed patio tables, loungers and chairs danced around the veranda in the spiralling wind. A bolt of lighting stuck the caravan a few feet in front of us. Having until this point been glued to the full length bedroom window, we withdrew, figuring there was a good chance of the furniture or ripped-off blind booms crashing through it.

We then assumed brace position behind the bed until dawn, listening to the storm rage though the site, snapping trees and vaguely wondered where we might find any of our clothes which had ironically been left out do dry outside over night. We waited nervously for the rising sun to heat the remaining cabin air to the usual 30 degrees, as we remained trapped inside by the angry and dishevelled blinds.

At 6am, we were more than a little relieved when the electricity and cool air returned, and the emergency lights and storm went out. We hadn’t been impaled and weren’t going to boil to death after all, and could risk sleeping for an hour or so before inspecting the damage and trying to escape.

A mini-sleep later we tentatively pushed our way past the sagging blind remains and explored the fallout. Trees and shattered loungers littered the site.