Modernity forgot Sardinia. The antique hills are still dotted with stone outposts, as though Phoenician raiders may at any moment appear on the horizon. There is an Arthurian feel to the island: it is waiting patiently for a great king to arise, rebuild the Nuragic edifices and light the beacons. Then the few, incongruous modern airports will be overtaken by nature. Holm oaks will grow where once characterless hotel lobbies glittered amidst vines and dirt tracks. The alien apartment blocks will crack and crumble with the devastating accumulation of time, while the Saracen outposts will still stand proudly, watching the sea for the black sails of the next tyrant to try and tame Sardinia. In...
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