In a labyrinthine Renaissance convent in hilltop Pienza, where (until recently) the nuns taught girls catechism and embroidery, is a chic, elegant, charming hotel. Remodelled by a New York record producer (Foo Fighters anyone?) and a Conde Nast travel writer, it has been immaculately restored. Three rambling storeys are linked by a travertine stair, and there’s a lift between the upper floors. On the first is a big easy sitting room of clean lines and designery colours, with book-lined shelves and a big honesty bar. Below are the restaurant and open-to-view kitchen from which simple perfect Tuscan meals (and long lazy breakfasts) flow: gnocchi with gorgonzola and cherry tomatoes; lamb cutlets with salsa verde; pistachio pastries with thyme ice cream. Then, an inner courtyard garden parasol’d against the sun and overlooked by the village houses so you can natter with the natives (guests do!). There’s also a mini spa. In rooms splashed with dashes of yellow and orange, divine beds float inside their minimalist frames. One room was a private chapel, another has five windows for views, the best have tubs to wallow in.