I return from a delightful long weekend away in the north of Italy to find the world awash with problems, but of the usual, predictable variety, of which more later.
We went north of Venice and had delightful weather - roof down on the car, aperitifs, if not dinner, outside. We returned when the weather broke, struggling through horizontal rain and impenetrable fog over the Gran Sasso between Bologna and Florence.
Treviso and Udine are a delight, and Trieste, whilst not quite as sad as Jan Morris makes out, seemed underpopulated for its magnificence. This was the Austro Hungarian Empire's warm water port, and it has struggled to find an identity since the First World War.
They eat well in the north, with excellent game at this time of year and wonderful fish and seafood fresh from the Adriatic. And two really great products: some people dine off a plate of warm radicchio and a glass or two of prosecco.
To any Italian speakers confused by the strange accent, imagine speaking with a Northern Irish accent, the Rev. Ian Paisley saying 'Buongiorno, come va?' (not that the old rogue would have spoken a foreign language in public, even if he were able to).
A highly recommended trip.
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