Italy

Coming in over the Channel, talking to Jens in the window seat, when I suddenly noticed something behind him…      

You really can’t go far wrong in this place. Viva Italia!

The last day before we fly away, and back to the realities of a London winter. Sadly I can’t but start by disposing of an unfortunate finale. And it all started so promisingly! Jens had managed to locate, out in the ‘burbs, what looked like a properly proper bike shop, with great reviews, so we

Nothing prepares you for Pompei. I don’t think I’m alone in having set off in almost a dutiful frame of mind. I mean, you’re here, it’s just up the road, realistically you may never get back this way…you kind of have to, right? Even though it’s quite expensive (‘for what it is’), and it’s sure

Well, we’ve hit Naples, and Naples has hit us, right between the eyes. Especially after three some weeks mostly in the sticks, it is just so full on. In a good way, but crazy. Loud, fast, crowded, brash, colourful, frenetic – it’s bleedin’ bonkers, Brian. Paul said it was like Saigon but more so, and

That’s it folks! Or very nearly. Our plans to explore further south, flying back on the tenth, have been sunk by a forecast that basically assumes incessant rain between now and the ninth, so we’re banking our winnings and heading back to Blighty. *sigh* It’s a shame, but realistically it’s our only option. The whole

A few from the last week or so.

Leaving lovely Gaete behind, we hit the coast road, which wasn’t as bad as we’d feared. No terrifying tunnels, and being a Sunday, little or no goods traffic. After an hour or so we stopped off for our traditional morning cappuccini and pastries and agreed this wasn’t too bad at all. And then it all

For the first time in three weeks we’ve not pushed a pedal. There’s rest and there’s rest of course, and some people’s might not include an hour and some’s trek over the headland to the beach on the other side, but by recent standards, that really was a doddle. And the beach was wonderful: a

It’s getting better all the time. Admittedly a low bar, having woken up in our clinical morgue – our most expensive booking yet, by a margin, but a soul-sinking experience, with a sterile, cheap, sub-Ikea aesthetic, all tacky ‘artworks’ and more empty white cupboards than you could shake a stick at, and welcoming consumables which