The house

Built in the 1780s.
Wrong since 1811.

The palazzo went up for a ship-owner in the 1780s. The sundial was painted on its south wall in 1811, and nobody has corrected it since. Here is the house in three parts: the dial, the building, and the family who decided that six rooms were enough.

The palazzo went up for a ship-owner in the 1780s. The sundial was painted on its south wall in 1811, and nobody has corrected it since. Here is the house in three parts: the dial, the building, and the family who decided that six rooms were enough.

The painted sundial on the south facade of the palazzo

The sundial

The dial that runs ten minutes fast

It is painted on the south facade, above the second floor, high enough that you have to step back into the lane to read it properly. The shadow crosses the numbers from about eight in the morning until the roof opposite takes the sun away. In January it is long and moves slowly. In July you can watch it pass a number while you finish a coffee.

It has been about ten minutes fast since 1811 and nobody in the family has corrected it. Guests work it out on the second morning, usually at breakfast. We tell them the truth, which is that the house has been early for two hundred years and there is no good reason to stop now. The line at the top of this page keeps time the same way. It reads the hour in Camogli, not the hour where you are sitting.

The palazzo

A ship-owner’s house from the 1780s

It was built for a man who owned boats, which explains the staircase. It is wider than a house this size needs, slate underfoot, with a brass rail worn pale in the middle, and it turns twice before it lets you see the water. Everything above the ground floor was arranged around that view. The windows at the front are deep enough to sit in.

Camogli builds upward because there is nowhere to build outward, so the house is narrow and tall and painted the colour the whole harbour front is painted. Some of what you see on the facade is not there. The cornices above the top windows are paint, and so is one of the shutters. It is a local habit and a very old one. The sundial is the only thing on that wall that does any work.

The narrow painted facade of the palazzo above the harbour
The slate staircase of the palazzo turning up towards the landings

The family

Eleven rooms became six

Three generations ran the house as a pensione. Eleven rooms, a bathroom at the end of each landing, and a book by the door that guests signed on their way out. The family reopened it in 2021 with six rooms instead of eleven, which is the largest change anyone has made here in a long time. The space the other five gave up went into the ones that stayed.

The kitchen works the way it always has. There is no fixed menu. There is what the boats brought in and what the market had that morning, cooked by one person for four tables. And there is one rule, which somebody will tell you about before you have put your bag down.

The rule

Nothing in this house needs a manual. If you cannot work something out, it is the house that is wrong, and we will come and fix it.

Nothing in this house needs a manual. If you cannot work something out, it is the house that is wrong, and we will come and fix it.

The rule the family set when the house reopened in 2021.

The rooms

The rest of the story is upstairs.

Six rooms, each named for what it looks at. Breakfast until half past ten, and a dial on the wall that will have you down early.

Six rooms, each named for what it looks at. Breakfast until half past ten, and a dial on the wall that will have you down early.

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