Going home day
The internet says (about our hotel, by our hotel) English
spoken. The internet also says (about our hotel, in the independent reviews)
not a word of English spoken, but a lovely, friendly place to stay. There was a
lot of quickfire Italian, a lot of pointing and waving and holding up fingers
for numbers. There was (on our part) quite a lot of Itlish (Engalian?), some
French and a smattering of Spanish. There was no end of friendliness and
helpfulness. The internet (hotel) says including breakfast. The internet
(independent reviews) says the breakfast can be found lacking in places.
BLISS didn’t get on with the breakfast beverages (Earl Grey
tea, green tea (she hates both) or a choice of coffee (she only drinks decaf)),
while I was fine with an espresso. I didn’t get on with the breakfast solids
(lacking in sausages, eggs and bacon, or at least some marmite or cheese or
something savoury).
This is a photo of my breakfast:
This is the aftermath of BLISS’ breakfast:
I did rather better on the mornings after we nipped into the
shops for bread, meat and olives.
We had a long leisurely lunch, outside, once we got the
doors working, said a final ciao, and dragged the suitcase[1] to
the pontoon for the airport boat.
It’s about 950 miles, and it took eight hours start to
finish, with all the hanging about factored in, a bit over 100 mph on average
isn’t too shoddy I suppose, but we must’ve been tear-arsing along for some of
the way because there was plenty of the hanging about in between.
[1] If, for
some reason you wanted to, could you now buy a suitcase without wheels? The
sound of small wheels rat-tat-tatting on the stone flags was everywhere.
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