I wake up shattered having hardly slept at all.
Having injected some caffeine to stop me yawning, I wander to Piazza Republica to enjoy the warm sunshine. Just beyond the square I find a fantastic old fashioned toy shop. All of the toys are carved out of wood. A full size wooden motorbike glazed honey colour with varnish dominates the window. Wooden toys are stocked floor to ceiling; Pinocchio's of all sizes and all telling lies, cuckoo clocks, childrens names, animals and an assortment of wooden weapons. An adopted niece of mine has been hankering after a sword (ever the tom boy) and I am delighted to find a wooden one for her. No doubt she'll think it's rubbish because it's not a real one.
I walk back via the bakery and buy a lasagne for lunch - freshly baked and nothing like the microwaveable plastic back home.
On the way back to the apartment I pass groups of locals out for a Sunday stroll and note, not for the first time, how stylish a nation Italy is. The notion of an Italian 'chav' simply doesn't exist. Vicky Pollard could certainly learn a thing or two out here.
Katy
(Y is for You get what you give - New Radicals)
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