P.S - Venice

I arrive at the train station at 9.10am - the woman in the Tourist Information Office told me that there were trains at 27 and 37 minutes passed the hour. However, this is Italy, and I forgot to ask which hour in particular. There is no train until 10.37am. Damn. I have an enormous suitcase plus a weekend bag as a piece of hand luggage - not even a spare hand to get a coffee.

The weight maximum for items in left luggage is 20kg; but it's amazing what fluttering your eyelashes will get you. I dump my large case praying that the Louboutins are still inside when I pick it up.

Heaving my case onto the train is a Herculean attempt - I only just manage it and I know I'll regret it later. I grab the seat nearest the door and barricade myself in with my luggage. It's not until I have practically disappeared from view that I realise other people are getting on looking for seat reservations. I pray that no one needs my seat as there's no way I can move my luggage again.

Someone does come to claim my seat, but not until we are 2 stops away from Venice. To her "Do you have a reservation?" (in Italian) I automatically answer in English. She takes pity on me and finds a seat elsewhere.

Getting off the train in Venice is dreamlike - exiting the station a set of stairs ends in water and gondolas. It's chilly and threads of mist hang over the water. I haul my cases onto the number 1 vaporetto for the 30minute ride.

The hotel is off the Accademia Bridge and is a wonderful dose of luxury. Fluffy bathrobes, a huge deep bath, breakfast in bed if I want it and a steam room.

I go out for food immediately - I am starving - and wolf down a pizza at a place on the bridge. I am too tired to investigate further. I know my body needs to rest and I'm anxious to make the most of the weekend.

Katy