On our last day in Florence (for this trip at least) we returned to our local bar for breakfast. Wherever we go, one of our first plans is to find a local bar for breakfast, and evening aperitivi. At breakfast, we see the usual locals. There is the guy with a hairstyle reminiscent of Andy Saltzman or the surreal US comedian Steven Wright. There is Joe Cool with his shades and AirPods already in place and it’s only 8.45. A man walks in who is about 6‘7“ tall. A diminutive older lady looks him up and down several times, and having noticed that I’ve noticed her checking him out, she says ‘life is not fair!’ indicating her tiny stature. Behind the bar, there are dozens of scratchcards on display and there is a continuous stream of people buying them. Revealing their fortunes, good or bad, they seem to return for more, to hopefully make up for their losses or simply to spend their winnings. Whichever it is, the result is always the same. When the National Lottery began in the UK, the Daily Telegraph of all papers, admitted that it was the most efficient way of transferring funds from the poor to the wealthy.
Having sucked up a goodly chunk of early morning theatre, we begin the walk to the station. Due to the heavy rain the day before I was forced to buy an umbrella. I’m also carrying my clothes in an expensive leather holdall which I bought many years ago, when I was the proud owner of a bright red Mercedes which seemed to deserve some luxurious luggage. Having got ‘car pride’ out of my system, the bag has been set aside and replaced by an assortment of less opulent luggage. I decided that I would give it a fresh release of life on this visit to the notoriously elegant city of Florence. Of course, this seems to partner nicely with the umbrella and I feel that I may be cutting a dash as a reborn cross between Peter Ustinov and Stephen Fry. I fear the overall look may not be as convincing as I’d hoped, but I think it works to an acceptable level.
Arriving at Santa Maria Novella. We discover that the Luggage Deposit is in complete chaos as it appears that a massive school party of young teenagers were badly prepared for the fiscal formalities AND they are also in conflict with a group of Italian tourists, who are old enough to know, better but clearly don’t and are equally badly prepared. Stupidity has no age limits! We pass the time relatively easily, with a jointly cynical conversation with an Italian couple behind us and it all works okay in the end.
Lesley would have liked to visit the Duomo again but the queue was dauntingly long so we just wander. I see a shop selling artist materials and I succumb. In my more than acceptable Italian, I say I’d like a pad of Fabriano watercolour cartoline They say ‘Ah! Questi postcards!’ I point out the funny side and we all laugh.
We manage a quick look at the beautiful S.S.Anunciatta di Firenze before the 12 o’clock mass begins and vow that we should make a proper visit next time.
We retire to a bar where Lesley has spotted porchetta. Included in their list of Today’s Specials .’chat with psychological and moral support.’ Nice.
We wander slowly back towards the station and have another quick drink at a bar with a tile marking the height, to which the flood waters rose in 1966. The flood waters arrived at 60 kph and reached a height of 22ft in the San Croce area. Unbelievable.
Finally, we climb aboard the train and relax, at the same time trying to stay awake enough to not miss our stop. Another great day out in our favourite city.
rowlandwithaw 