Venice

Every day I was in Rome I found myself coming back to my hotel room and pouring out the intricacies of the day. Where I went, who I talked to, it rolled out of me but it has to be said that it was mostly intellectual observation, details rather than emotions. Venice was different. It struck me dumb. In terms of stories, I'm coming away with a million of those but it hit me on a level that doesn't lend itself to blogging possibly, blogging being a speedy kind of sketching of events rather than the slow evolution of an idea. I shall do my best to explain myself. Being in Venice feels not unlike a waking dream. The colours are brighter, the sounds are so different like the slapping of the water against stone, the low vibration of the Vaporetto and other boats, church bells and then because I'm staying in more of a residential area, what sounds like an incredibly heated argument in Italian but which is often just a couple of friends enquiring after each others health.
When I first arrived here I was hot from walking from the station, when I got to Italy the temperature soared every day, in the high 30's in Rome and somewhere in that vicinity in Venice as well with the added bonus of humidity. So I showered and changed and headed out into the city to get myself acquainted and find something to eat. You can spend so much time just hanging out here, I decided to make it a rule that there would be no lining up for things on this trip, for one reason because I don't have enough time, the second reason is that not lining up for things means that I don't see all the big attractions, like inside the Colosseum and the Basilica di San Marco. I don't know why but it feels like committing to seeing that stuff now feels so final, like I'll never come back and I want to. I really, really want to. So instead I walked, I walked all over Venice on my first day and my second day and then the third day I caught a bunch of Vaporetto's (Venice's system of water buses)out to Burano, Murano and Torchello. So here we go. My first afternoon I walked down to the Ponte Rialto but decided to save crossing it until the next day when I would also go see Piazza Di San Marco. Instead I had dinner at its feet, in a restaurant that probably charged too much but that I knew would charge too much and didn't care. Sometimes in life you have to allow yourself to do that which is not sensible but is just for fun. I spent my time regarding the Ponte Rialto drinking red wine a lot faster than I normally would, it had never tasted that good before. After dinner, mercifully sober, I wandered back through the streets of Venice until dusk began to fall, catching snippets of conversation of people as they passed me being carried on in what seemed like every language on earth. I came upon a little gelateria that made its own ice cream and grabbed a scoop of tirimisu gelato and a scoop of nutella gelato, then found myself a little spot on the shoulder of a bridge and watched the sun set on my first day in Venice. That became my little ritual, every day, 2 scoops, same bridge, sunset.
It cost me 2 euro for the gelato and I felt like I stole the sunset.
On the second day I woke up at dawn, I don't know why but I did. Watched the sun return over the houses around me and then headed out into the streets again. I naively decided that I would wander without a map, with only a plan to see the Piazza at some point, and see what else it got me. And I saw a hell of a lot of Venice, some markets, lots of gondolieri, millions of churches, crossed the Rialto bridge once purposefully and three times by accident. It really was like a dream, where you were trying to get somewhere but no matter what kept coming to yet another turning. But still in all that aimless wandering there were little moments, like finding a water fountain where I could fill my water bottle with icy cold fresh water, they were a welcome sight in Rome too, I wish we had them everywhere. Or finding little plaques and murals, sometimes of the Madonna or a saint, sometimes just a hand or a sun, I like those little details.
Eventually I just followed the hum of the crowd, the distant whispering of the ocean of people waiting to get into the basilica. That was what got me there. I sat in the square just watching them all, occasionally being bugged by a Romany Gypsy wanting euro or an African guy trying to sell me a fake Gucci bag, it kills the romance of the moment sure but that's what happened. I mapped the outside of the basilica in photographs, glad that I was moving on and not waiting in the interminable heat. I walked past Florian's, again photographing it and deciding that I did not need to pay for the pleasure of going inside it. I spent a lot of time in the piazza, wandering and photographing things. Recording the sounds in my head and trying not to kick pigeons. The pigeons are maybe too tame there.
Maybe I was savouring the moment, maybe I was stalling for time because I could not remember how I got to the square or how to get myself back. In the end I opted to navigate back as best I could and ended up having lunch in a nice little restaurant halfway back. Bruschetta and campari soda. Red, soft, tang and sweetness of the tomatoes and cool, icy, bitterness of campari.
I found the spiral staircase of the Borolo Palace as I was trying to navigate my way back to Cannareggio, a surprisingly well hidden and deserted attraction. Foot sore I made it back over to my little district, where I know my way around, know who has the cheapest gelato and granita's and had my afternoon arranchia rossa granita on a little bench I found tucked away from the action but right near the water. When its that hot and humid being away from the water is almost unbearable, the air is still and wraps around you like steam trapped under cling film bearing down upon your skin. Watched the people go by cooled by a little breeze off the grand canal and then when I felt rested, browsed through all the shops I hadn't been in yet. Found a little escape from the heat for dinner in a restaurant with a garden where I had pizza and made sure I left enough room for my evening gelato. Then, when it was time I, went to what I've now decided is my gelato place, collected my 2 scoops and then went down to the bridge to watch the sun set. I had to scare away some tourists coz they took my spot but I did it and they ran and so I ate my gelato in peace.
I limped home, I had walked for nearly 13 hours on cobble stones. I came back and turned on the laptop intending to commit my thoughts to word and promptly fell into unconsciousness waking only at some point to turn off the light. Still in my clothes, on top of the bed, until morning woke me.
Sunday was Vaporetto day, you can get a 12 hour Vaporetto pass for 16 euro otherwise its 6.50 euro for a single journey. I caught one to Murano to see the glass blowers and check out all their wares, then another to Burano so I could connect with one to Torchello. Torchello hoped to be Venice before the plague redesigned its future, and now is a mostly quiet collection of houses, restaurants and churches. There is a faint eeriness to it that is interesting. I'd like to spend a night there one time I think. Burano is famous for its lace but what struck me most about it was the brightly coloured houses. Vibrant blues and greens and even pink enhanced the feeling of being in a dream. They had welcome stretches of cool green grass and shady trees near the docks as well so I spent some time laying around there watching the world go by. When I got back to Venice I could still feel the swaying of the sea and it swayed me right into another church when a gust of cool air seduced me through its doors. They smack you dumb these churches, which I guess is the point. Like God himself catching you on the back of the head as you walk in the door and asking through clenched teeth “Believe in me now?” You cant take photos of the inside of a lot of them though so their exact renderings will have to remain mostly inside my head unless you come here. This one was stunning both for its art and the marble decorations, like black and white lace rendered in marble covering every inch of the inside of the church. I wrote most of this on my last night here and was trying not to think too much about leaving. I headed out, grabbed some dinner and then toke my gelato to the bridge to say good bye to the sunset. I walked down to the bridge and though about how to end this, my gelato in hand I took my sunset spot and waited but the sunset never came, in Venice there are no good byes, there is only next time. We had a thunder storm that night, the heat broke and there was little rain but mostly thunder and lightning, the air felt cool and scented with the rain. Today I spent the whole day travelling to get back to London. First a train to Rome, then another to the airport then a plane to Heathrow and finally my old faithful Piccadilly line.
What a way to wake up. Venice feels like its been for me, though I'm sure everybody has that reaction. As I went for my last evening walk, taking more photos than I needed to in fear of forgetting something, I saw bunches of people doing the same thing, last gelatos, last kisses on bridges, last pizza by the canal. Sometimes when things hit you profoundly, you kid yourself into thinking that you're the only one its ever happened to, like falling in love. Go to Venice.

Rome...if you want to

Day 2, I felt a little more familiar with Rome. That kinda heightened state of awareness I tend to feel when I first arrive at a place subsided so that I can cross the road without feeling besieged and happily lose myself in streets knowing that I will be able to navigate myself out somehow. It has to be said though, crossing the street is a test of wills here, they don't stop for you, even when you have a green light and they have a red one the cars keep coming at you. Day 1 my plan of action was to cross with locals or other tourists, using them as human shields. Day 2 I just found breaks in traffic and strode confidently across the street with enough bravado to suggest to drivers that this girls not kidding, that street will be crossed and it will damn well like it.
So the day went like this. I got up, showered and dressed and threw all my things in my trusty green Eumundi Market bag and went for breakfast. Coffee and a cornetti again cept this time I had cappucino instead of espresso, also fantastic, oh such good coffee, why cant they make it in London? Got some Strawberries from the little market because I planned to eat them on the Spanish steps and headed off to Termini to buy my tickets for Venice before hopping on the jump on jump off bus. My destination was the Colosseum and the Roman Forum for a bit of a wander around. Climbed some hills, saw some ruins and a very pretty little church, I visited a lot of them if for no other reason than they were cooler than being outside. I found some graffiti carved into one of the walls near the forum that said Amore Vici Omni and in spite of myself I found it really beautiful. I may be getting less cynical in my old age. Love conquers all, aw.
One of the things I was most grateful for today though was the man selling bottles of frozen water at the base of the Palpatine hill, I certainly felt deep Amore for him right then, the water had been melting in the scorching Roman sun and was just icy cool with flecks of ice in it. Oh my god it was bliss. There was this woman selling little prints just near by and I thought excellent I'll get Dad a little something. She gave me the whole patter, said she painted them herself and I thought oh cool, they're only a couple of euros why not. Got him a nice little print of gondolas near the Rialto Bridge, thought he'd like that before I headed back down to the bus stop just as the next bus was pulling in.

The heat was increasing along with the tourists so when the bus pulled up to where the Bocca Del Veritas is I got off just to get out of the heat for a bit and away from them. Yes I realise that the Bocca Del Veritas is a touristy thing but I don't care. I wanted to get a picture of it and I did, not with my hand in its mouth, I wasn't interested in that, I just wanted a picture of it. I like it, the shape of it and where you can see its been worn away over the years, it reminds me of a lion with leprosy. The church next to it is beautiful inside. Gorgeous mosaic tiles on the floors and little frescos and marble sculpture. I even found some graffiti carved into a column that said Fra Bozio 1742, he is gonna be in sooo much trouble.
Then it was back on to the next bus to pootle off to Piazza Di Popolo. Its a vast, open space which backs on to the Villa Borghese and there are three streets that run off it like a trident. I walked down Via Babuino so I could see the statue that the street is named after. Its considered so ugly it became known as the baboon and that's how the street got its name. People used to write little signs and hang it around the statues neck so it became a 'talking statue' it was a way of anonymously criticising the government back in times where it was not so wise to do so. This eventually lead me down to Piazza di Spanga and the Spanish steps. There is a beautiful fountain in the centre where people were dipping their feet to cool off. Rose sellers, that wander around the piazza trying to cash in on the romance of the moment, sell the most beautiful red roses I've ever seen. The dip them in the fountains to preserve them in the heat and I got a picture to remember it. People clung to every inch of shade like sparrows in summer and I tip toed around them to find my own shady spot on the steps so I could eat my strawberries and survey the scene. Every so often a carabinieri would walk past and blow their whistle and shout something at someone that was unintelligible and constantly changing with all the menace of a quacking duck. At one point I think they said “No eating on the steps!!” but everyone ignored them and they went away. The clearly found better things to do, busting the guys selling fake Dolce and Gabbana belts and bags up the top of the steps, because those guys came running down clutching their wares and casting frantic looks over their shoulders about 10 mins later.
As I ate my strawberries and watched the square I couldn't help over hearing some Irish promotions guys trying to convince some girls to go on their pub crawl. I'm so glad I'm not that age anymore. After my little break in the shade I climbed the rest of the way to the top and surveyed the views of Rome. There are churches everywhere here and there is another at the top of the Spanish Steps which I went into and escaped the heat. You know what else there was up the top of the Spanish Steps, lots of people selling prints of Rome exactly like the one that I bought at the forum. I fell for her tourist patter but like I say only a couple of Euros, no harm done. There are American websites that warn you about all this actually, I made the mistake of reading one before I got here and ended up feeling like all of Italy was just waiting for me to arrive so it could rip me off, but like most things in the hands of Americans it was blown somewhat out of proportion.
After my resigned awakening to the pitfalls of being a tourist, it was down the steps and off to find the Trevi Fountain and some lunch. Lunch first. I grabbed some pasta in a little cafe in one of the side streets off the piazza. They had the most elaborate gelatteria set up and I watched scores of tourists wander in and order “speciale” cones only to come out with the most embarrassing looking icecreams known to man and beast. Huge things, all different colours and flavours in elaborate cones with handfuls of wafers and cream on top and little Italian flags and strawberries and tinsle covered skewers sticking out of them. The conversations usually went:
“Oh my god”
“You carry it”
“No, I'm not carrying that thing”
“I have to take a picture of this”
This was not the place I wanted to get gelato. After a little help from Neil my trust GPS and a little intuition I found my way through the warren of back streets to the Trevi Fountain. The heat drew flocks of people and they came and went in waves though the square the fountain sits in was never clear. It hovered between happily busy and mad crush. Everywhere you go there are people selling little umbrellas and hats for shade to tourists and there were bunches of those guys here, one of them copped a feel as I was wandering past but its Rome right, I would have been offended if I'd come here and someone hadn't tried to feel me up. I found a little corner near the side of the fountain in the shade and decided that NOW was the time for gelato. Helpfully there was a shop nearby, and I got some tirimisu and cafe gelato. I love coffee flavoured icecream. It was a quiet little moment of happy sitting in the cool shade on a hot day near the Trevi Fountain eating gelato. There are a couple of seagulls that hang around the fountain and man they have attitude, they're not scared of anything. They sit there defiantly, so much so that I thought they were sculpted in place until one of them moved. There were these two boys being obnoxious and trying to throw things at one of them but it just looked at them, sqwalked like it was going to come town there and beat the christ out of them and then went back to sunning itself, they, quite understandably decided to leave the bird alone.
I wandered through more back streets eventually making my way back to the Piazza Barberini to jump on another bus thinking I might check out the Villa Borghese. That's when I saw the temperature on one of those flashing signs that tell you the time. 36 degrees! Only made it as far as the Santa Maria Maggiori on that bus because the commentary woman made it sound so interesting I had to have a look. And it was. It illicited a wow from me it did. I took lots of pictures, the ceiling is covered in the first gold that was brought back from the Americas, they said that on the commentary and it caught my attention. When I headed back outside to ask the ticket guy when the next bus was coming he told me I was very lucky. I said Really? he said yes and when I asked why he told me cryptically that there was something on me which slightly freaked me out but I put down to a language barrier, I asked “Is it this?” touching my necklace and he said “No don't touch” and then started randomly chatting to me about where I was from. Most normal people would probably have been freaked out by this but personally my attitude is unless I think someone is going to kill me, they're probably worth chatting to if I have nothing better to do. After asking me one or two questions about myself, ticket guy pointed to my shoulder and said “Now look” and there was a giant fluttering butterfly there before it took off into the sky. Apparently butterflies landing on you makes you lucky. I don't remember his name unfortunately, after he weirded me out a little I didn't pay him full attention. We did chat for a bit and he asked me out which I politely declined, I'll chat to anyone at a bus stop but I draw the line at dating them. Besides which I found out he was married with a wife and 2 kids in India. We talked a bit about life and how it is to be enjoyed before the bus came and happily spirited me away. I thought maybe this time I would make it to the Villa Borghese but by the time we got to that stop I was exhausted and desperately in need of a shower.
Dinner that evening was pizza with potatoe and rosemary. Awesome, I will try making that back in London.

Friends, Romans, country men......

My first day in Rome and I was exhausted. Got there on the Tuesday night at about 11:30pm and after picking up my bag and clearing customs I was chauffeured into the city by the lovely Alberto. He drove well and at the end said “ok bye bye!” which was very sweet coming from an old Italian guy with a Cheshire grin all over his face. I'm staying at a bed and breakfast in the centre of Rome which is essentially a converted apartment. We're on the fifth floor and the other apartment's are occupied by either residents or shops. I think one might be a hair dresser because on the first day, when I walked downstairs to go to breakfast, I saw they had this beautiful etched art deco sign of a Victorian looking lady with an elaborate hairstyle in profile. Unless of course its some kind of time travelling prostitution service I can see no other context for it.
So yes, where was I, ah arriving at the Bed and Breakfast I buzz up and the guy says to me “The lift is broken, you will have to climb up the stairs”. He says it quickly in the way that people do when they imagine saying things fast enough mitigates argument. Five flights of stairs with my suitcase. Climbing five flights of stairs with a suitcase in and of itself is probably not a great feat but try doing it while trying to be quiet so you don't wake everyone else in the building. As I climbed up the last stair with my case, like it was Everest, the reception guy said “Oh sorry, I didn't know that you were on your own or I would have offered to help”. Really? The fact that I booked a single room didn't clue you in? I had that happen a lot too, people being puzzled about me travelling alone and with the benefits of the post editing process I can tell you that in the time that I stayed there the lift worked only once, when I was leaving to go to Venice, poetic no? Though I suppose I cant expect a great deal from something that cost me under 200 euro for 3 nights. I even had my own bathroom, and it was clean. No matter, I was there, and it all felt happily surreal. Its hard to place Rome in one category because there is so much going on there and such a convergence of everything, time, places, people. This must be what they mean when they say all roads lead to Rome. Have you ever had a dream where you were in a place that was at once familiar but indefinably so. One of those rambling dreams that start with you saying “Well, I thought I was in my old house but then I was in a market and you were there but you weren't you you were someone else....” That's what Rome feels like in real life. Parts of it feel like Abu Dhabi, parts of it feel like Melbourne, parts of it feel like London, one part reminded me of what Beirut must feel like though I have never been and it has to be said the reference only sprang to mind because I had the distinct feeling I might be shot. Then in the middle of it, like some strange episode of Doctor Who where the Tardis has a period and the wibbly wobbly timey wimey stuff goes haywire, there's a giant ancient ruin or some big fuck off marble building that screams “I AM A BUILDING AND I AM AWESOME!!!” For 34 centuries people have lived in Rome, and all of them leave something behind that gets absorbed into the identity of Rome, squished in with the renaissance and fascism and gladiators. A giant wad of civilisation. It would be an interesting experience living here and if I was ever given the opportunity to I would if for no other reason than to try and get a handle on what beats at the heart of Rome. I'm glad I've had the experience of living in London for a while before coming here, because what I found there could probably be applied here too, your experience of London and your perspective on London is very much centred around where you live in it. After coming to Rome I'm beginning to develop a theory that all iconic cities have that going on with them. I'm willing to bet that if you were living around the 'La Dolce Vita' bit, that your perspective on the place would be rather set a certain way, that Rome might seem much simpler. I went around Rome on one of those hop on hop off sight seeing tour buses, this is generally not me but damnit Rome is a tourist machine and this is not a place I could just do my normal wandering around thing in. I'd get lost and sold to gypsies I know it, they're out there, they accost me if I stop moving for too long and ask me for euro like cats weaving round my ankles hoping to be fed. So, nice open topped tourist bus. I got on at Termini and it took me around the city, down streets that looked familiar and then dear god the colosseum. There is so much to see here that I went round on the bus once, so smacked in the face by all the things I was seeing that I forgot to take photos so I had to go around again. Lucky I got a pass that lets me go around and around as many times as I want for 2 whole days, 18 euro, bargain. So the bus came back to the starting point, I jumped off and grabbed some pizza (the only way I can describe it to you involves an awful lot of swearing, its good, and I have a feeling its one of those things that can only be made well there, sorry) and went round a second time. I noticed more detail the second time around. The theatre of the gypsy beggar woman near the Roman Forum in her yellow socks and sandles, bent over on a walking stick doing a kind of pained and exaggerated bhuto walk, shaking a tin with some coins in it and a picture of the Virgin Mary on it, crossing herself at intervals and kissing imaginary rosary beads before asking passers by for money.
Hard to know whether its real or entirely theatre which probably means that its both. All her props seem calculated, and she had a brand new brightly coloured back pack which made me think she cant have been doing too badly for herself all things considered if she can buy herself a spiffing new backpack.
In Melbourne I have a favourite statue I used to pass everyday on my way to work. Its the statue of Justice George Higginbotham, third chief justice of Victoria, I used to smile each day as I passed that statue because there was some thing in his eye, something in the way that he lifted his judicial robes revealing just a little ankle that was frankly, quite saucy. Predictably there are statues in Rome and I think I have found my saucy equivalent. Given that the Italians are a passionate people its not just some scanty ankle on show in this statue , its of one man standing with his shirt open revealing a rippling chest while another slightly smaller man appears to be dry humping his leg.
This might just be me, I was sitting in an open topped bus for a lot of that day and did get rather sunburned but I took a picture so you be the judge.
Then there was the crazy old man shouting something that sounded both joyful and obscene in Italian at the tourists while they passive fluttered around him taking photos of the fountain at the centre of the Piazza Barberini, when they didn't respond he decided to balance on the edge of the fountain pretending to fly and singing.
There is a Rome for tourists and a Rome for locals and this can best be illustrated in the economy of sunglasses. The ones that sell to locals you buy in the little markets that crop up in side streets the same way the have for centuries, they cost about 1 euro, I still have mine, my 1 euro specials, they work perfectly well and make me look all sophisticated. The ones that go to tourists have little signs saying latest Italian styles and cost 30 euro. I have also declared it a rule not to go into any restaurant claiming to sell real Italian pizza. If I'm eating pizza in Rome I only want the fake Italian pizza, the stuff they import from Bulgaria.
You know I thought this trip was going to be mostly gastronomic, I mean its Rome after all, but I just haven't had the head space for food. I had some brilliant coffee and a cornetti for breakfast, I had a slice of pizza with tomato, mozzarella and basil on a nice thin base for lunch, a blood orange granita while I wandered around the Campo dei Fiori and a tirimisu gelato while I wandered around looking for a bank that would accept my non Italian bank cards so by the time I got to dinner all I wanted was the strawberries I bought from the market next to where I'm staying.
Another brilliant thing about Rome is the drinking fountains, grazie Roma for the drinking fountains. The pipe beautifully cold spring water down from the mountains and they are everywhere, you just fill up your bottle and go better than paying 1.50 euro for a little bottle in a shop.
So at the end of my first day I know where things are roughly, and had begun to cross the road without believing I'd be killed. What delights await me on day 2? Tune in next time.......

Italy, rare jewels and the green, green grass of London

So in less than a week I shall be in Italy! I'm trying not to lose my mind with excitement and so far self control has won out but I keep going over in my head how I can ditch clothes and make more suitcase space for olive oil, pasta, tomatoes and wine that I plan to smuggle back in my suitcase.
I don't care if I could get them here, they're the only souvenirs I want. As soon as I get back someone is getting a feast. It will erupt spontaneously at the first opportunity.
I've always wanted to go to Italy, ever since I started learning Italian in prep. Dario e sempre in ritardo. And I can still remember enough of the parrot song to sing it to babies for their amusement.

Ma che bello pappagallo
Tutto verde l’occhio giallo
Cosa fai che cosa vuoi
Parli parli parli parli
Parlo parlo parlo parlo
Ma che bello pappagallo
Tutto verde l’occhio giallo
Ma che bello pappagallo
Parlo parlo parlo sì
Tutto verde l’occhio giallo
Ma che è bello pappagallo

Though that probably wont get me very far in Rome or Venice. If I get arrested because they thought I was a lunatic in Rome check my luggage, there will be olive oil for you.
Its going to be a nicely challenging trip though, because I'll be all on my own in a non English speaking country where the streets are all twisty and disorienting and occasionally people throw babies at you to try and steal your wallet. I plan to drop kick any babies thrown my way, that'll learn em. Also beyond the basics I'm not going nuts planing this trip. I have a few things that I want to do like see the Trevi fountain and throw a coin in, see Bocca della Verità, try tiramisu in Rome and gelato in Venice. Try to find some awesome pizza so I can steal the recipe. The reason for choosing Venice apart from it being pretty was that Ms Hayes, who took me for Renaissance History in year 11 imbued me with a love of both it and Florence that has never left me. I had to choose between Florence and Venice on this trip and I decided Venice because it would be so different from Rome, where some of the marvels of Florence are its galleries and inside spaces, all of Venice is a spectacle. It was still a hard choice, but I do want to see the Piazza di San marco and drink a Bellini in Harry's bar. So Rome and Venice. Prepare to be blogged at.

In the mean time though I've been exploring London. Since last we spoke I went to the natural history museum and saw precious gems, one of which was Alexandrite, which I've fallen a bit in love with and want to find one of my own. It was first discovered in 1834 in Russia and named after Alexander the Second. The reason that its so beguiling is that it changes colour in different light sources from a bluey green to a purply red, just beautiful. I also went to the British museum, where I saw the Rosetta Stone and a bunch of mummies and then wandered through Bloomsbury. I went to Camden, which was fantastic once you got away from the crowds of people and made it to the canals, walking along them it was hard to imagine you were in London.
Since the weather has been so agreeable I've been spending a lot of time wandering around the parks in London too. Walked through Regents Park which was quite pretty. Went and saw the crazies at speakers corner in Hyde park on a Sunday where I was told I was a sinner for putting out, a sinner for not putting out enough and both the cause of damnation for the human race and of entirely no consequence to it. What was even more fun was watching the allegedly sane people try and argue with them. Don't goad the crazies, it is a fool who takes up a fools argument. Saw the Albert Hall that day as well, I still don't know how many holes it takes to fill the Albert Hall though, even google cant tell me.
Went to Hampstead Heath last weekend and climbed Parliament Hill lay in the long grass and took in the views of London. This weekend its off to Highgate Cemetery to find the graves of Karl Marx and Douglas Adams. Ah London, I love you, we always have such fun.

Next stop Italy!!!!!