We went into a very local neighbourhood restaurant down in Trastevere, a Mom & Pop place, where Mom was a surprisingly apple-cheeked dame bustling around the tables in a colourful tomato-themed pinafore. In one corner -- their corner -- was a table of older gents; dapper, joshing one another, joshin...
] The worst part was the smell of the oilskins. How many people had worn them before? In how many degrees of heat and humidity? Bad enough to have to put them on, moist and clammy at one and the same time. But to then have the funk of all that humanity waft on up was torture indeed. These days, sear...
Sunsets are so much easier than sunrises. With a rum and water in hand (just a brief grating of nutmeg, thanks) every evening on a Caribbean island is a sunset watch. And very, very occasionally, a green flash special.
I think I prefer sunrise to sunset. Not that I sit around watching the sun ris...
Eats Wombats, who seems to be avoiding my post on his name, has instead chosen to encourage me to blog Strange Things About This Country.1 I’m flattered, but there’s already quite enough blogging by foreigners on the quaint ways of Italy and they’re easy enough to find. Besides, once you’ve de...
The best, and worst, skinny dip I can recall was the time I was filming in Vienna, where my mother happened to live, and the assistant producer and I went for a walk with my Mum by the banks of the Danube, or the Danube canal. It was quite a warm day, and Ma suddenly announced that she was going in...
