Empoli ~ Firenze ~ Bologna ~ Bari

A rather wretched 10 days' hiatus over Christmas during which I didn't even need the camera handy: I have pics of the Italy place and it never varies.

Ill-lit and faintly depressing in its bankruptcy of owt to distract a non gardener.

Superbly cooked meals but of such richness that nights were writhings of indigestion

Booze booze booze for every meal ... and more booze and more witless twitterings as the drink too effect.

Apnean grunts and sleeplessness each night.

The only thing that saved me and made my room a sanctuary was the well-channeled TV. Lifesaver.

I kept a calendar on the wall and counted down the 10 days til it was time to catch that 0718 train from Firenze and ride, at which point I took the camera out and clicked.

From Firenze, I changed at Bologna for the long ride down to Bari, and here my fellow passengers were the stuff of novels.

My neighbour across the table looks a bit drowsy but he's listening to his iPod and was great company, catching my eye when a frosty old fogey clambered on and complained about everything, and also translating for me when the chatter picked up.

 

At one of the stations en route, a punkish figure joined us and sat next to Signor iPod, much to our joint dismay. But he turned out to be a decent sort and even mocked himself for all the calls he was taking and his mass of tattoos.

He had a belt with some English pop group's name emblazoned but i had never heard of them so i was one big failure and poor representative of my musical race.

 

This chap was reading Marquez' 'Time of Cholera' and was clearly some sort of business honcho if his important calls were owt to go by.

Post-script pics: In my ungracious way, I had to check out Sinbad's commentarial links (as I choose to name him) in case they were as deadly dull and self-serving as I feared. As usual, I was completely wrong.

• Wonderful bustling carriage, exactly capturing the spirit of my journey.
• A charming and evocative portrayal of two young ladies, uncannily mirroring my companions and whom I would certainly have pestered and chatted up in their day.
• Thirdly, an endearingly donnish self-snap of Sinners himself that I leave to anyone interested to look up for themselves,
  http://www.flickr.com/photos/sibadd/2117698916/
• This blog is here to stalk and feature comely damsels, not housemasterly types who could have been on duty at either of the loathèd schools in which I did time.

Firenze to Bologna

 The countryside was endless shapeless greenery interspersed by long coastlines of beach and sea, deserted now except for amblers and joggers.

 

These two ladies are pensive or dozing now but were the greatest fun.

I don't capture any of her startling beauty here, dammit, but the gal in red had ultra green eyes and the most feline freckles. I kept wanting her to look my way or for me to be brave enough to ask for a pose, but alas ....

 

The chatterbox takes a break and reads.

 

 

 

Yule in Tuscan-shire

 

Some of the views from my bro's property are stunning.

This was the setting sun from my freezing bathroom. At least, if I never got more than a tepid bath, I could gaze out the window and get eye candy.

 

The grounds swell and then sweep down in a valley far as one can see.

 

Athenian Trampler

Hero.

Give that man a large prosecco: pedestrian in Athens finds - surprise, surprise - a whacking great SUV blocking his pavement, so he just walks over it.

I like to think he was in hobnailed boots with big sharp metal studs.

That motorist behaviour is so normal around here, and i speak only for Corfu.

Wonderful story and if i knew which account to which to send his legal fees, it would be in the outbox.

Quote of the week:

"Now I will be tried for property damage but police did not even bother giving the car owner a parking ticket."

andy mckee - guitarist

to fend off all those who mail or phone me at ungodly hours to plead, "in the name of charlie, play me 'drifting'."

le voici.

now can i go back to sleep?

Challenging Brief

Must-read Telegraph journo and parodist supreme, my old pal Craig Brown, gets my vote for best pre-Yule sighting:

A challenging brief

"A reader of my parodic A-Z of Eth!cal PR column by Su Barking has kindly sent in a cutting from the magazine PR Week, dated November 9, 2007.

"Clew Communications is to provide PR support for the relaunch of the controversial drug Thalidomide," it reads.

A photograph of the MD of Clew Communications, Mary Hicks, is captioned simply: "Hicks: challenging brief."

"US company Pharmion has called in the agency ahead of an expected launch across the UK and Europe in 2008. The drug hit the headlines in the 1970s when it emerged that its use in treating sickness during pregnancy in the previous decade had resulted in birth defects," continues the report. "The agency's MD Mary Hicks said: 'The drug's history is a challenge but less so than we expected.'?"

Quoth Brown, "It serves as a handy reminder that satire, however excessive, will always be outclassed by reality."

Faggot faggot faggot faggot faggot

(I feel better now)

No, I don't.

My stoopid blighted landofmyfathers benighted Blighty has sunk so low that cretins like Radio 1 can, with a straight face, even *think* of banning Fairytale of New York from their playlist because it includes the word "faggot".

I enjoy not living in bully state Britain a lot more than you

Cubicle View: snowcapped Albania

 

 

 

George Who?

Quite clever George Clooney advert(s) for Nespresso ... or I think they are.

A lady of my acquaintance thinks he is the cat's whiskers and since I think *she* is rather fine, there's a trickle down effect.

Anyway, the UK Daily Torygraph newspaper is plastering their e-dition with this commercial and CNN Asia, which is what we get in Greece, ditto.

Tom Petty - Running Down a Dream

At the end of the day, when they cut my guitar open, 'Tom Petty' will be engraved there.

Everything I thought I was composing had his influence in the background.

The sneaky thing is that one thinks he's accessible, that you can be like him and that he's mortal and that you can get inspiration, not like the unattainables like Dylan. But, as the man says, Tom's a bad ass.

Harvest Moon

We were still in PacMed and I'd gone up one Sunday from Bainbridge to catch up with the customer survey I was running.

Mr Zach Works (whom God preserve) had his desk just behind mine and he was in India, toting the white man's burden, bringing Fromgrep to the masses.

Around lunch time I got bored so I ambled over to Zach's desk and borrowed a CD, which happened to be this person called Neil Young of whom I had vaguely heard, and the track I played happened to be 'Harvest Moon' of which I had never heard.

I was considerably blown away and it's stayed a favorite ever since - and now here it is on YouTube with as nice a video as the song deserves.

(Another huge favor Zack did me that day was have Iris DiMent on view for me to play).

Zizzi Lop

Ouch!

Not just at the title but for the poor man:

Dude enters London restaurant - in the Strand, no less

Lopes into kitchen, grabs knives, slashes self about a bit

Lops johnson orf.

What *is* it with my god-forsaken bully state benighted Blighty?