er….

Another trip to Pellegrini’s, this time marked by Sisto calling everyone’s attention within the bar, pointing to me and shouting “Hey! EVERYBODY! No woman gets ignored in Pellegrini’s. Look at this pretty lady!” Cue men saying hello.

In other news, I shall never need to wear blush again my cheeks are so red.

This morning has also confirmed to me that despite the view of a correspondent gone walkabout, I really don’t ask *that* many questions. My weekend visit to the grocerer (the wife was behind the counter) gave new meaning to the phrase “I’m going to pin you down and ask you every intimate question I can within 10 minutes in a style akin to a souped-up tommy gun”. Well, the phrase would have new meaning had I not just made it up. In any event, she made Joseph McCarthy look like a bumbling papercut intern and, quite frankly, I’ve never asked that many questions anyway. Honest, guv.

I’m off to prowl the streets again.