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In Which I Sign Off For A Wee While
June 3, 2008 by Mike
Heading Back Home Again
Route: Pompeii - Rome - Stansted - Norwich
As I wrote on Sunday night, I need an early night and lots of sleep because I need to look beautiful this week.. for Martin and Sarah's wedding.
In London, on Saturday.
Preceded by Kinky Friedman live in Norwich (yes!) and followed by some more days off. Time with family and friends. What's the point in having a mid-life crisis and disappearing off in a cloud of motorbike exhaust fumes.. if you can't occasionally take a break and get a fix of Real Life instead?
Two highlights of the trip back so far:
** I tried riding to Sorrento and on to the Amalfi coast yesterday -- but I'd forgotten that it was Republic Day -- Italy's biggest public holiday -- and consequently half the country was in a car heading to, err, Sorrento and the Amalfi coast. The roads are unfeasibly narrow, especially through the small towns. I managed three miles in an hour at one stage; decided to turn round and head back at *exactly* the same time as, you've guessed it, half the country. So I managed three miles back in slightly over an hour. Bear in mind I'm on two wheels so I edge through gaps cars can't manage, though the panniers mean I'm much wider than, say, a Vespa. So the journey time for everyone in a car would have been half as long again. Which was the only redeeming feature of the trip.
But, this being my trip and my rules, I've decided not to confess to this aborted trip because it makes me look daft. So you'll never know it happened..
** Back in Rome today, dropping the bike off for a service and safe storage while I'm in the UK. Lots of roads blocked off. Even more overweight lazybones in uniform than normal -- quite a feat in Italy. It is, I realise, the World Food shindig -- Mugabe in town to everyone's disgust/ lots of food for all the delegates/ much bluster, little achievement.. and lo and behold, as I stroll up the Via del Corso looking for small presents for my Pa and sister, I encounter a huge cavalcade of limos waving the French flag. Is that buffoon Sarkosy in town? Or is it just his Minister Of Nouvelle Cuisine? Whoever the chief French foodie is, the chef chef, as it were, this is her/ his car:
If I'd had rotten eggs to hand, I *promise* I wouldn't have thrown them.. though I think it would have been a point well made.
But I digress.
See you again in the middle of the month. Have fun. I hope to.
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