Tuesday, 6 July 2010

Veni vidi vici.

Well I did Rome, and very nice it was too. Saw lots of piles of ancient rubble, and lots of ancient rubble that had been partially stuck back together again. All very impressive, but not as impressive as the driving ability of the one armed driver who took us back to Fiumicino Airport at speeds that could only be measured by the G force effect on my rectum. Here was the only man in the entire universe who had the ability to multitask. He could change the radio station, AND answer his phone, whilst steering the dented Mercedes with his stump. Oh God ! Please dont turn round AGAIN and ask if this station is ok, its perfect, I promise you. We got to the airport, and even tipped the driver. Why we tipped him I will never know, but I'd bet my last Euro he made it back to Rome before his lunch got cold.
I badly needed coffee. I really wanted an IV alcohol drip after my spin with Stumpy, but I held out for coffee on the plane, only to have my hopes dashed after we took off, by the planes driver, who announced that as French Air Traffic Control were striking, we were going to have to go over the Alps, and because of the severe turbulence they were expecting, NO hot drinks would be served on the flight. Pffft! Severe turbulence, you expect me to get my knickers in a knot at the distinctly, imminent prospect of being able to count the petals on the Edelweiss, as we plummet 35,000 feet, when I've just survived ( and maintained control of both my bladder AND bowel) during a one hour taxi ride through the streets of Rome with a one armed, manic, wannabe DJ, cabbie, in a beaten up Merc? Bring on the weirdo's in their lederhosen, singing The Hills are Alive is all I have to say. Show me your very best severe turbulence, and I'll raise you a cab ride with Stumpy. Anyway, thats the end of the Rome trip, and Ive left out the part about the lady at the airport who was being attacked by a pigeon, because it was way too trippy, even for me.
The dogs are all great, and have been spending huge amounts of time at the farm, as Ive been helping Catherine revise for her finals, which are on Thursday.
I'm going to stick a few pictures on here, and write about the dogs tomorrow, as I'm drowning in stinky dog blankets that need to be washed, because Mr Hotpoint finally choked to death two weeks ago, and Mr Bosch has only just arrived to take his place.