Maybe I’ll go to Amsterdam,
Maybe I’ll go to Rome,
And rent me a grand piano,
And put some flowers round my room…
Well, no room for a piano in this room. But nevertheless entirely delightful.
It’s now nearly 3
These notes written around noon. Typing them up here, and then I’m off to enjoy what remains of the afternoon, and maybe find a little square somewhere to bring us up to date.
Noon – out of the airport, on the train, leaving in a moment for the city’s central station. Cloudy but hot and muggy. In desperate need of a shower after that neverending day of flights.
Did manage a reasonable sleep on the plane, enough to keep me going. As the plane approached the terminal, groves of those umbrella pines, I think they’re called, that you always see when you see pictures of the countryside around Rome. Train’s about an hour, then making our way to the hotel one way or another.
It turned out to be another – owing to a metro closure/strike of some sort – several kilometres through the centre of Rome – it’s mad chaotic little streets.