Middle-aged flash packers

I can’t believe I didn’t know that sunflowers follow the sun. As we were driving back from the gorge, I happened to notice that the sunflowers I saw yesterday were all facing in the opposite direction. I googled it and only the young ones do this. S thinks it’s because they get old and stiff like us and can’t turn their necks anymore. I think I must be a sunflower and I’m pretty sure that I’ll be a ripe old age or dead before I stop following the sun.

The Furlo Gorge is beautiful. A jade green river full of fish and terrapins winds its way through limestone crags. The information board in the car park showed a path that runs alongside the river for what looks like several miles. Looking forward to a nice long walk, we were very disappointed that after a mile and a half we came across a barrier strictly forbidding anyone to go any further. What the hell is going on Le Marche?! We want to like you, we really do, but you’re making life difficult for us.

Never mind, there’s always the beach. We popped home first and had a cup of tea. I commented to Steve the air felt very heavy and humid. As we drove the 7km to Marotta I noticed there were puddles everywhere, clearly we had just missed a massive storm. At least the beach was empty.

So instead of waxing lyrical about how lovely the gorge walk wasn’t, and how refreshing my swim in the sparkling sea wasn’t, I’m going to share some updated observations with you regarding the Italian culture and get my revenge.

In previous blogs I have pointed out the terrible driving in Italy , and I know it doesn’t seem possible but it’s actually got worse. Straddling two lanes of a motorway at high speed has become a favourite. Can’t decide which lane to be in? No worries, keep two wheels in each, preferably heading in the direction you wish to go in. It also has the added bonus of stopping anyone overtaking you so you can be king of the road – bellissimo!

Also, remember to leave absolutely no space at all between you and the car in front. If they’re Italian they won’t move, so by all means undertake them and then cut in front of them as closely as you possible.Don’t forget to do this as fast as you can.

Finally, never, ever put your phone down. It must be clasped to your ear at all times, you don’t want to miss the opportunity for a good chat and shouting directly into your phone is so much better than hands free.

Talking about a good chat, the animated, hand waving conversation is still going strong. I love this. We buttoned up Brits really should adopt it. Think how much stress it would relieve being able to shout at people but actually saying nice things rather than being angry. It’s an art that needs a lot of working on by the looks of things. Earlier in our stay I saw two women appear to be yelling and cursing at a man. I was quite perturbed by it but when the shouting came to an end, they kissed and hugged and waved goodbye very happily.

The eating. It’s such a stereotype but all stereotypes come from a gem of truth and the Italian love affair with food is no exception. Every meal is a performance. There is no walking along eating here. I think you could be jailed for it. A fast breakfast would be at least a chocolate croissant and an espresso or a mocha, but really you should be loading up with cheese, cold meats, cake, tarts – a bit like an English high tea but far,far more. Next a slice of something savoury and delicious from the bakery , then lunch – antipasto, pasta, maybe the full works- and wine of course, lots of wine. And in the evening antipasti, primi and secondi piatti and of course dessert. And they’re not fat! So unfair.

The drinking. This worries me. I’m hoping it’s just holiday makers but we are seeing lots of people swigging down the wine and then driving. Maybe all the food soaks it up, but at the speed people drive, it really isn’t a good idea. We Brits have a (deserved) reputation for overindulging, but in the main drinking and driving isn’t that common, here I think it is.

The smooching. Well, Italian is the language of love. The beach is the main smooching area. Lunch, wine, bikinis – it’s a heady mix. Sex on the beach isn’t just a cocktail here… Can’t really imagine a Sunday roast

having the same effect. Oh dear, that was unintentionally rude, think I’ll stop here.