London Letter ‘Steeng’s Polizia’ mojo is lost, but his ‘casa’ keeps the rhythm

Thanks to some cunning travel bargains that management is always on the lookout for, we have just spent a week’s holiday in Italy.

To be more geographically precise, we were in rural Tuscany, Italy’s most beautiful region, where all you see are woods, olive groves and grapevines.

And the Chianti Valley, where we were based, produces some of the finest wine and olive oil in the world – which explains why the estate surrounding us belonged to the rock star Sting.

I kid you not. Sting not only warbles high-pitched lyrics, but is an oenophile. Indeed, I only found this out when we passed a magnificent villa surrounded by vines and our taxi driver said ‘Steeng’.

‘From The Police?’ I queried.

‘Si. Polizia. Sting buono with Polizia. Sting solo …not so good.’ He wagged his hand ambivalently.

My sentiments exactly. Sting, like many celebs, lost his mojo when he started saving rain forests and humanity.

Rock stars are best at making loud noises, not preaching.

The next morning management and I went hiking in the Chianti Hills, which undulated almost to our doorstep, and an off-road biker zoomed up and said something in Italian. On discovering I was Inglese he simply asked for ‘Steeng’s casa’.

Despite having been in England for 14 years, when I am asked directions at home I usually have to admit I haven’t a clue. Here, after one day in Italy, I was an expert. I nodded sagely at the biker and pointed knowingly at the mansion painted in Tuscan gold.

Sting may be a luvvie rock star who has bang-on opinions, but in Tuscany he’s a hero. He bought the rundown estate called Il Pagalio about 15 years ago, hired some people who know what they are doing and has turned it around, creating many jobs.

Respect for privacy

People here respect his privacy and there is no massive security. Instead there are signs in Italian stating politely this is private land. I got so sick of them that every time I saw one I had visions of Sting leaping out of the olive groves singing ‘Don’t Stand so Close to Me’.

He even has a farm shop where you can buy his kickapoo juice, named after his songs, natch.

The one I wanted, ‘Message in a Bottle’ was out of my price range and so we bought a red called ‘When we Dance’, which management said was a bit young, but tasted great to me. ‘Roxanne’, my favourite Police song, wasn’t in production.

Actually, I quite like Sting. I once saw an interview with him and he was pretty humble, saying that if there was such a thing as reincarnation, he must have been St Francis of Assisi in a previous life to be bestowed with such good fortune in this one.

But having said that, the incongruity of having a rock star in the Chianti Valley is stark.

The country is beautiful and ancient and soaked in history. The old Etruscans had a civilisation that rivaled Rome. Nearby Florence is one of the cultural magnets of the world, with breath-taking architecture and artworks. The music is opera, not white reggae.

However, to give Sting his due, he has not interfered with the rhythm of the land. For all his hype on organic biodiversity and Zen production, it is actually what most farmers do here anyway. Olives are still picked by hand; ditto grapes, and the contrasts of weather – long hot summers and cold winter nights – are great natural pesticides.

However, Sting doesn’t quite cut the country gentlemen image. His brochure shows a photo of him kissing his wife Trudie in a lake on their estate. Sting is dressed in a penguin suit; Trudie in an evening gown. They look like they urgently need a room. Pretentious doesn’t even come close to describing the effect.

Also in the farm shop, amid the wines, Tuscan honey and olive oils, there is a DVD of Sting and Trudie promoting their yoga classes.

Hmmm … can’t quite see Giovanni and Giuseppe swigging rough Chianti and eating goat’s cheese at the taverna down the road discussing Sting’s latest tantric contortion.