F is for fabulous find

I was thoroughly excited to read in the local paper that a vintage fair at a venue approximately the size of a small aircraft hangar began today. A vintage fiend such as myself loves nothing more than whiling away a couple of hours sifting through second hand, sorry, vintage, booty. I wasn't disappointed. Row upon row of clothes, bags, shoes, scarves, jewellery and hats were laid out to be trawled through. And this being Italy, vintage does not mean last months Primark as it can elsewhere. Vintage Gucci, Chanel and Hermes all present and correct to be haggled over. Having already told myself that there was nothing else I actually needed (like that ever makes a difference) this season, I was happy wryly noting the superiority of even second hand Italian style over the rest of Europe.

As I turned to complete my final section (yes, yes I know - organised as ever), a rather fabulous dress caught my eye. Granted, a cobalt blue floor length ball gown is not essential to my wardrobe - especially as Dolores doesn't like me to go out that often. However, there are some things that a girl just can't walk by. And having bartered the seller to 70 euros (that's about £45) I was extremely smug.

Dolores was starting to whinge so I asked at the Tourist Information office which bus I needed to get home. 40 minutes later I was still on the bus and starting to think that the Tourist Info chap was taking the proverbial, as I journeyed through what appeared to be Florences industrial outskirts. The answer became patently clear when the bus pulled up back outside the station, having been nowehere near my destination. Yes, I had got on the bus going in the wrong direction. Told you my sense of direction was crap.

Katy

(F is for Freeway - (Crazy P Mix) Soulway)