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Five minutes into our interview, Jarno Trulli started talking about the weather.
Under normal circumstances, this is not a good thing. When a conversation turns to unseasonal heat, or the lack of rain, it's generally a sign that you're struggling to even make small talk. But this time, I was hanging on every word. This was fascinating stuff. No, really.
Decked out in a team-issued shirt and a Jarno-issued pair of unsettlingly yellow tartan trousers, Trulli leaned back in his chair, frowning slightly, nose crinkled. There had been a warm spell in his native region of Abruzzo in central Italy, and he wasn't happy about it.
