On My Way To That Airport in Milan

There was this older gentleman, riding an old bicycle, wearing a long black coat ... I imagined he was a priest at first.  He was smoking a cigar.  There were exclusive-looking shopping bags hanging from both handlebars.  And he crossed the road on a red light and I thought, 'not so priestly'. Then again, quite possibly Father Healy might done that. 

Anyway by the time I realised he wasn't a priest he had my attention.  He stopped on the island in the middle of the road and lifted the camera he had hanging round his neck, using it to take a photograph of the old-fashioned apartment building in front of him.

Then, a few streets on, there was a small truck raised up on its mobility/stability stands while the ladder was raised.  I can't be sure but it seemed like there was a big white cat sitting up in a tree waiting for rescue. 

I reached the airport, hungry but craving something sweet too.  When I write up this some might say, 'Oh Diane ...' but others may benefit from my honesty should they find themselves hunting down lunch at an airport in Milan.  I ordered a mozzarella and tomato sandwich and ... a hot chocolate. 

The waitress could barely put my order together.  She was laughing so hard. 


And laughing.  And still laughing as I wandered off with my 5pm lunch. 

Sometimes one just has to take the 'hit'.  There were things I could have said but decided it was a life lesson.

I came to the departure lounge early to work on my marketing assignment but there was an elderly English academic talking to his wife two seats down from me.  He was so ... so very much what you might except from a rather elderly English academic perhaps. 

He had been at a conference here in Milan and was rather excited by the wine at dinner but disappointed by the behaviour of some of 'the team'.  Talked of corruption and bureaucracy, so loudly, that I feared his way of speaking might slip into my writing.  Maybe it has ...

Traveling between here and there always seems to drag me into a slightly surreal space.  Speaking of surreal, I only managed to take one photograph of Davide, the Genovese guy who looks so remarkably like John Lennon ...

I went wandering with Alessandra, Federico, Barbara and Davide on Sunday.  It was superb.