Now the sun is out and the leaves of the dandelion are glittering. The flower is there too, a yellow tuffet on a pale stalk. Above there are a few white flowers on the Mirabel plum, yellow fruit potential. That was yesterday, at home. Today I’m on the Eurostar heading for Paris.

The houses are all gone under the sea.

We’re in the tunnel, it’s dark outside and my ears are popping.

The peace of the lord… Sam this morning at 5.00am listening to the silence of sleeping children.

England

France

It’s quite misty everywhere. Dusty and dark.

The blackthorn is flowering, a little brightness in the gloom.

I’m trying to write pretty, just thought I’d say that.

To what extent do I need to know what is wrong in the world? Is it better to do my thing and not continually read about what is wrong? Make my world right. Take pictures, write bits and bobs, make my garden. Seek out art and dance and theatre.

Yeah, could work.

The mist is thicker outside. This is the moment when the sun breaks through. Later, maybe.

Paris. Gare du Nord. And now at Gare de Lyon. This trip has already done something to my head. Going somewhere in body occupies my head and keeps me based.

On the way to Zurich. Suddenly very tired. Headphones on, listening to something. Music.

Lots more blackthorn, like snow in the hedgerows. I’m listening to Gregorian Chants. Quite peaceful. I did my daily chess puzzles and moved in my game against Ellen. She’s sort of winning.

It’s not so misty – blue sky and puffs of clouds. Still dusty, but in a different way.

I’m unsettled in a way that may have solutions. I don’t know what that means. Sleep would be good but I’m not sure it will come.

In our pod in Zurich. We had a good supper, burger and chips, Swiss cow and blue cheese, and a couple of beers, and the first day of our holiday is almost complete. A very good day and a very substantial change of mindset. I’m very much looking forward to this holiday.

Day 2

Zurich Hauptbahnhof

On the way to Milan.

It’s the journey that counts. When you arrive they put you in a box and bury you.

So it’s all journey.

Palermo. I’m in a park. The air is filled with the rumble of Ferrari engines and ubiquitous parakeets. There are oranges on a tree. A girl with a baby begging.

I’m outside the cathedral now. I love the anonymity of visiting crowds

The scent of orange blossom

Coffee and crowds and cannolo

Another day, rather stressful. Booked somewhere to go tomorrow but it’s not confirmed. Won’t know anything for sure till 7.00pm tonight. Also trying to book a car and may need to pick it up from the airport. Also Rome apartment wants €55 cleaning fee. Sitting in a nice square though.

I was about to write something this morning and I got sidetracked. Not even sure how the day began. I know we booked an air BnB yesterday and it turned out to be a shithole. We didn’t stay and we’re in San Leone, thank God.

We have a car and somewhere to go tomorrow and we had a delicious Japanese meal tonight and it’s still my birthday!

There was day 1, day 2 etc and now I don’t know what day it is. Good Friday, that I know. We are in Piazzolo Acreide – I can spell it now without looking. We had a difficult day or two. On the night of my birthday we booked an air bnb in Agrigento. There was some dispute about the location on the listing, but we booked it on the basis of proximity to the Valley of the Temples and a picture under the heading Patio of some loungers by a sandy beach. We arrived in our hire car, about which there is another small story I will relate later – all this is taking place on my birthday – can that really be true? – I guess so – so – we arrived in our hire car and parked outside a mini tower block among many others, reminiscent of a run down council estate, on the edge of Agrigento and some miles from the sea. We went to the front door where we were told we could find the key in a lock box. There was no lock box. We went back to the car and wondered what to do. It’s a scam, we thought, secretly rather pleased, although that pleasure was tainted by the fact that it was lunchtime and we had nowhere to stay. We phoned air bnb to get help and we messaged the owner. We got no reply from the owner and the air bnb man said he would send a message to the owner and if we had not heard back within an hour something would happen, we weren’t sure what, but something. Messages then came through from the owner with pictures showing the key box next to no 23 – we had been told no 80 – at the back of the property. We found the door – why the original instructions said no 80 when it was in fact no 23 we will never know – and we gained access to the property. The property had a sea view! We had already given up on the seaside patio but at least there was to be a sea view. The sea view, it turned out was in a gap between two tower blocks and obscured by mist and a section of motorway raised on thirty metre tall pillars. The flat itself was more or less as the pictures showed but there was some intangible ghastliness which we both felt.

We can’t stay here.

We drove away through the miserable estate towards a small seaside town called San Leone. On the way we passed through the Valley of the Temples.

We had nowhere to stay.

Day quite a lot later

On the train about an hour from Rome. I filmed the train on the ferry crossing the Messina Straight. It feels like a discovered answer to a Geography question. What is the name of the stretch of water between Sicily and Italy? And now I’ve been on it on a train on a boat, twice. This time I went up on deck and looked down on the train in the hold, and out at the lights of Messina and the miniature Statue of Liberty in the harbour. I want to say it was spectacular, and it was. It was also ordinary, a daily repeated occurrence. It is also rare, and probably dying. There is talk of building a bridge and then the crossing will take minutes instead of over an hour and the ferry will cease. This world is all about speed now, although where it is we are getting faster or what we are doing when we get there I don’t know.

The car we hired is now safely returned. The small story I mentioned earlier was about the pick-up place. It was some distance out of Palermo so we booked a taxi. The address was 25A Via Nino Savarese. The taxi entered the road through a green security gate which was open. We looked for 25A. It was an expensive residential road. It didn’t look like the sort of place you would find a car hire depot. We got to number 23. The last house. Another security gate, this time locked. We checked the address. 25A Nino Savarese. What’s going on? Another scam? We had all our bags and we were in middle of nowhere.

One of us got out of the car. There was pedestrian access to the side of the locked gate. They walked through, and lo and behold, hidden by trees, Green Motion Cars. We should have approached from the other end. The gates were to keep the car hire riff raff away from the fancy houses. We paid Gianluigi, thanked him and carried our bags through to pick up our car, much relieved.

We have arrived in Rome. What does it mean, to arrive in Rome? We’re having a coffee somewhere, a very hospitable Chinese Italian serving us. We’re waiting to check in to our apartment at 2.00 pm. We’ll wander towards the colloseum. How do spell colloseum? Not like that, I think. Yes, like that! Colloseo in Italian. On we wander. Actually Louise points out it’s one l and two s’s! Colosseo.

Palm trees outside an engineering college. There were two more at the other end of the building and the grand entrance was in between. We walked on to the Colosseum which was quite as stunning as I remember it. We felt no need to go inside. We walked around and marvelled. There were many people, many, many people.

We’ve got to our accommodation. It’s fab. A somewhat inauspicious block, and a long trek with our bags but once inside and after a hot shower – we slept in our clothes on the train last night – and nap we are rejuvenated. Ready to go out on the town!

Day leaving Rome

Sitting in a café at the station waiting for our train to Genoa. I’m loving this holiday. It has a roundness, a circularity that is very satisfying. Two nights in Nice, then home.

On the train now. First class! Just the leg to Genoa but that’s 5 hours plus, and the seats are comfy there’s a little more legroom and table and so far nobody opposite, although they will probably come.

We went to Rome Botanic Garden yesterday.

The train is on the move. The windows are bigger, the world is brighter. And nobody has occupied the other two seats! Goodbye Roma, goodbye flat-topped pines, goodbye buses, goodbye good food, goodbye Colosseum, goodbye gardens. There were two gardens. The magnificent botanic garden and a tiny garden near the station where we ate sandwiches while we waited for our apartment to be ready.

The tiny one had lovely pillars and was very quiet. The botanic garden was one of the best gardens I have ever been to. Majestic palm trees, a rose garden on a steep slope, bamboos that touched the sky. There was also a Japanese garden with running water and peonies and cherry blossom. It had clipped bushes and a still clear pond at the top with fish and a solitary drake. There was an installation in a large greenhouse to symbolise the fragility on nature – net curtains and music. Near to this was garden of simples, a garden of medicinal and culinary herbs all planted in neat brick raised beds. Simply the best!

I need to look out of the window now. Bid a long farewell to Italy.

In Nice. Before I forget – how could I say that, I won’t forget – the train journey from Rome was one of those wonders you never forget. The railway hugged the coast all the way and the glittering blue sea was edged with rocks and sand and sunbathers. It didn’t give up all these wonders all at once. The train would dive into a tunnel then emerge for a moment or two then dive under again, and in that moment there would be a blissful seaside scene. It was captivating, and then, after a while the train would stay above ground for a while and the scene would give up it’s bounty. The journey was a surprise of great beauty.

Random picture of the Gare du Sud in Nice, no longer a railway station now a food hall. We had supper here on the last night of the holiday, sort of Tunisian food with one of those screens when you order everything and pay then find a seat. Then wait for the food. We never found out quite how it worked because the nice man took our tickets and came back later with the food. I think we were supposed to do that part as well. I did take the drink ticket to the bar and the man there dramatically prepared our cocktails. He said something to me that seemed to require an affirmative answer and using my best language skills I said ‘Si’. Only we’re in France now.

We crossed the Tiber to get to the botanic garden. The name of the river is more iconic than the river itself, which is cloudy and grey and seems to steal through Rome hoping no one will notice. We’re on the train to Paris now, moving quietly along the Riviera to Marseilles before plunging up into the interior, and on to Paris. The Metro and two more trains after this one and we’ll be in Newbury.

We shall not cease from exploration And the end of all our exploring Will be to arrive where we started And know the place for the first time.

We’re home now from a very special holiday. These reflections were written along the way and I’ve copied them more or less verbatim. Palazzolo Acreide barely gets a mention. It is a lovely place and we had the happiest of times there. I may write more about that and other things at some future time. The train on the ferry, Rome Botanic Garden, the Valley of the Temples, getting lost on Mount Etna, a 5th Century BC amphitheatre, the longest baroque balcony in the world, all the plants I didn’t know, flamingos and a black-winged stilt, so much…

Thanks for reading!