Skip to main content

Roman Holiday


Unfamiliar sounds drift up through the open shutters from the narrow street below; excited Italian voices exchanging greetings, motor scooters sliding over the cobbles and city cars squeezing into non-existent parking spaces. It’s my birthday and I’ve woken up in a dusky pink room with flocked walls, gilt mirrors and I’m in ROME! It’s wonderful! After years of yearning to visit Italy I’ve made it; we’re here! First, I open my birthday cards and have a good cry because everyone’s been so kind to me, then we head up for breakfast in the rooftop restaurant with its amazing panoramic views across the city.



There’s rain in the air so we book a bus tour so we can get a sense of the place. As we pass the Colosseum the commentary dryly informs us of the thousands of animals killed here, the 98% mortality rate for gladiators and then observes that the drink enjoyed by spectators would probably be distasteful to modern palates. What? Only the drink?

We hop off at the beautiful Ponte Sant’Angelo to cross the Tiber. Now, Tom and I are used to rain so - fending off the many folks trying to sell us useless ponchos, flimsy umbrellas and selfie sticks -we head for St Peter’s square.


Eventually, soaked to the skin, we retire to our glamorous hotel room to dry off. In the evening, we visit a wonderful restaurant with lovely staff, glorious food and I enjoy another birthday surprise!


 The next two days are fine and dry, so we make the most of every moment of our stay; it’s hard to pick highlights as it’s all so amazing, but the Trevi fountain is magnificent...


The excavations of Vicus Caprarius are fascinating...



... and catching the Hokusai exhibition at the Museo Dell’Ara Pacis is an added bonus.


It’s not just the ‘must sees’ that make this city so fabulous; it’s the colours, the buildings, the food and the wonderful, welcoming people. As a firm Bremainer, it makes me very sad indeed that we are shunning Europe and retreating into ourselves. Thank you, Rome, for a memorable holiday.


Comments

Angela Britnell said…
Lovely to share your joy visiting Italy for the first time and hope you get to return very soon! It brings back fond memories for me.
Kathryn Freeman said…
So pleased you saw Rome in the sun as well as the rain. Such a fabulous city, can't imagine a better place to wake on your birthday :-)
Chris Stovell said…
As you can tell, Angela, I loved it there and hope to see more of the country now. I'm glad it brought back good memories.x

Thanks, Kate. I had a wonderful time and felt very spoilt; it was certainly a memorable birthday. x
Flowerpot said…
That looks fabulous Chris - what an amazing birthday! Definitely one to remember. I've never been but it looks a place to put-on the bucket list X
Clare Chase said…
Great to read more about your visit and see these glorious photographs! x
Chris Stovell said…
it was, Sue. I felt very fortunate to have been able to visit at last - now I want to see more of Italy! x

Thank you, Clare! x
Roger David said…
Looking forward for more interesting places to travel in mighty Rome.
cheap airport parking
manchester airport parking deals

Popular posts from this blog

My First Book Signing!

It’s a fine, dry day and there’s an Italian market in the square outside Waterstone’s. Good for a book signing? ‘Bad,’ says Tim. The stalls are blocking the view of the shop and the fine weather’s keeping everyone outdoors. Hmm, that must be why they’ve only put one small poster up for my event, I mean why waste the Blu Tack? Tim demonstrates handing off the marauding hordes After much refolding of a black tablecloth and a rummage around for some books, I’m invited to take up my position at the author table somewhere between ‘fantasy and horror’, children’s books and a poster of the next author, Bobby ‘Iron Duke’ Windsor who’s signing on Monday. Once Tom, Lily, my lovely daughter, and her partner, Russ, are all sure I’m not going to run away, they leave me to it, taking it in turns to make sure I’m all right and bring me tea. Very soon, I notice a small boy watching me. When he returns with his family I learn that he would like to be a writer. His method, he tells me, is to rewr...

A Winter's Tale

Thursday 2 December Feeling confined in her snow-muffled flat, Ma takes a walk up her front path to take the morning air. As she returns a cat jumps over the wall and startles her. She slips on the icy path and lands heavily on her shoulder. When her injury doesn’t spontaneously heal, she eventually gives in and calls her local GP surgery. In the evening a GP visits and summons an ambulance ‘sooner rather than later’. Around 10.30 pm Ma is admitted to her local hospital. X-rays suggest she has a fractured scapula which will require emergency surgery. She is put on a nil by mouth regime that night and transferred to a larger hospital for an emergency operation. However, she’s picked a busy period for her accident so the operation doesn’t take place. Saturday 4 December The operation is rescheduled for this morning, so Ma’s had a second night of nil by mouth. A CT scan shows that Ma’s humerus is broken in four places. Despite her obviously smashed-up arm, which is in a sling and...

Forever Young

Looking at the blurb for my new Lacura WrinkleStop from Aldi, I see that its active ingredient has been ‘proven to help • Reduce forehead wrinkles by 52% • Reduce crow’s feet by 24% • Restrict 82% of wrinkle muscle activity’ That’s quite a claim, isn’t it? Frankly, after years when my face looked like a lunar landscape thanks to the joys of acne, these days I’m just grateful to see a fairly blemish-free skin. Part of me wants to believe that the wonder cream’s making everything looking a bit smoother and tidier, but, hey, there’s also a lot of ‘aqua’ and ‘glycerin’ in the stuff, too. Besides, I could tamper with my skin as much as I like (and I don’t), but I’ve only got to stand next to my beautiful daughters to see the difference. Ma has wonderful skin, so the chances are there are some helpful genes in the mix, but my dad died far too young of cancer, so it’s not all good news. My dad was a carpenter. ‘You can’t get age from a tin, Miss Chris,’ he’d say when rubbing his hands o...