I get 2 "Bella ragazza" shouted after me whilst out this morning. This makes me feel good (a) because I am still being called a girl, and (b) because my hair obviously looks better than I thought it did.
I need to shop for a backless bra in order to be able to wear a dress I have with me. The department store has nothing but sends me to a smaller shop with the promise that "she has everything". "She" turns out to be three men serving ageing signora's support knickers. Obviously it's the twenty something who serves me; and despite the fact that he's very helpful I can't help thinking that part of his smile is due to the fact that he's imagining me wearing what he's just sold me.
I stop on Piazza della Signoria for a coffee. I know I'll be charged a tariff for a table on the square and in the sun, but I don't care as it's my last day. A cafe latte and some strawberries set me back 17.50E - about £12.00.
As I'm savouring the world's most expensive snack, a woman of opera-singer proportions comes and takes a seat to my left. Face framed with a mass of long dark curls, she's dressed in a black tent topped with a bright red coat. She has matching red lips and red nails decorate the ends of pudgy fingers. Red glasses which seem to be a cross between welding goggles and 3D glasses are perched on the end of her nose. She huffs and puffs and orders gin. The drink arrives with bowls full of crisps and olives. Rather than move the glass bowls closer to her, she grabs handfuls of crisps and places them onto the table nearer to her, to ease the transition between bowl and mouth.
Expensive strawberries, but great entertainment.
Katy
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