Sleepy Suffolk

Caro Mauri, très cher Mômô, dear ol' Maurizio,

I'd like to take this opportunity to thank you for your thoughtful text message a few hours ago. We did manage to get a wee bit of a tan although not as much as the burnt up toasted version you turned out to be after you ski hol' (you should try the French ski slopes next time ).

Saying we didn't see the slightest bit of rain would be a lie, but as it happens it rained at night and in the wee hours of the morning but the Campania skies soon cleared up and a generous sun came down on us as we hiked up hills, drove to small colorful villages and «chilled» on a very nice dark sand (thanks to Vesuvio Pyrotechnics ©) beach nestled round a small bar with friendly locals (belle ragazze).

To prove my point here are a couple snapshots. I hope you enjoy them in the dark damp office as much as we enjoyed our caffè correto.

Cheers matey!

Oh what a hectic day, that whimsical Saturday October 6th. It kicked off with an all too early flight from London to Naples during which I dozed off, head slumped onto the tablet in front of me, trying to avoid drooling. The plane was full of retired elderly people anyway. They probably wouldn't pay attention to yet another drooler.
My first few minutes a few yards outside the main terminal at Naples Int'l Airport were sunny, slightly cloudly yet and most importantly heavy & steamy. Somewhat familiar to south-eastern US climate. A nice day somehow.
By the time Ivan landed, got his gear, collected the rental car and drove us both off to the Vesuvio, the clouds have welded back together to cast the Sun outside the picture. It was gonna be a grey climbing trek up one of the world's most famous volcanoes.
The long and winding road took us a few hundred meters shy of the actual crater. We finished the rest off by foot. A steep starting path made way for an easier stroll round the rim. Ivan shot a couple pics, we awed at Pompei in the distance and gazed down the clammed & quiet crater. Seemingly quiet that is - the only apparent sign of activity was a few puffs of smoke here and there.

The cherry on top of the cake that day was our trip to Pompei in spite of an ominous weather (which eventually caught up with us). By the time dusk had wrapped us around an eerie shroud of darkness, a harsh rain was pattering down on us and we were desperately trying to find our way out of this 2 millenia old maze.

In the distance, a bobbing torch (a ghost?) neared us, scolded us in Italian for still being on the premises and showed us the shortest way to the exit.

Saturday October 6^th. Wee hours of the morning - barely four actually. My phone rang, my radio blared out Eels music, I emerged of a short sleep. Slide down the ladder, into my trousers. Shirt on. All set to go. Rats, where's my phone? It's hard to think straight with only 3 hours of sleep.

I fumble about the bedsheets and finally find the rascal. Just in time too: the cab driver calls me up to confirm the address. 141B, yes that's on the station's side of the football ground. I'll be down in a minute.

A truck having burned down on the A12, we've got to take a detour. The driver speeds down a small countryside road. Gets the adrenaline shooting. Better wake up call than any espresso this side of Milan.

One turn, two turns, and finally Stansted. Two full hours before expected departure time. Plenty of time to grab a few snaps. The planes on the tarmac are all being readied for another round of extensive European travel. The actual strip seems clear of any traffic. However, the terminal is filling up steadily. Travellers from all over: businessmen, families, couples eager to clinch onto the last bits of summerly warmth.

Sleepy airbus

Time to board the plane. Switch the PC off. See you in Italy!