OK, technically its evening but after three glasses of Tavolla Red with our extra-ordinary dinner, I cant even spell right.

Just walking down via Speranzella for 300 meters is a feat. Two young 20ish somethings, on scooters, talking and on their phones, parted (unlike the red sea)just long enough to go around us and the worst part is that to them this is normal.  Seven people in a Fiat Punto reversing up the pedestrian only street and getting angry because the stream of Vespas wont give way whilst Nonna calmly sweeps up as the traffic pours around her. Utterly insane and utterly magnificent.

Speaking of magnificent, two things, the news that Philip and Jandy are expecting (at last) and the linguine with mussels and black pepper.

As she watched the couples canoodling in the cafe opposite, Ilze said that the thing with Italian men is that their not afraid to display their emotions, all that hugging and kissing.  I told her that I am not kissing Ian, even though I find him strangely attractive in poor light.

If it wasn’t for the Venice race and learning to be a Grandpa, I could die this moment a happy man.

Good night.

Pete.