Italy bound

 After months of barely leaving the house, I decided to make a dash for it and go to Italy. My mate Thibault invited me out for a week of travel, as his wife had a lot less holiday entitlement than he had. So we hatched the plan that he would go out to Italy with his wife on Wednesday night, spend a long weekend together and then on Sunday drop Clarissa off at Milan airport and pick me up from there for a week travelling through Tuscany and Umbria, flying back from Rome. 

As flights on the Sunday either were ridiculously early in the morning or late in the day, I opted to fly out late afternoon on Saturday and spend a night at the airport hotel. 

Flights were from Gatwick so I found a way of going entirely on overground trains, about which I felt more comfortable than the Underground. As my trains were almost too perfectly aligned, I ended up being ridiculously early for checking in. Unfortunately Gatwick is not the most photogenic airport. Here was my best shot at an arty looking photo, just outside the terminal. I gave up on photos and just read my book to kill a little time.

My Easy Jet plane awaited. Well unfortunately it didn't. Was about 20 minutes late, but I was in no hurry.

I decided to hang the expense and stay in the Sheraton at Milan airport. Rather in the manner of airport hotels, this was high end functional, but functionally bland. It would not have taken much of a flourish to turn this into an attractive place to stay, but evidently they did not think it worth any flourish at all.

Large hotel with cavernous atrium, no doubt to cope with a rather larger influx of visitors than it is handling at the moment. As you can see, enormous long corridor decorated in the most exuberant shades of muddy brown.

Rooms were comfortable and spacious - king size bed to myself. But just very uninspired.

As I hadn't eaten since breakfast I headed into the hotel restaurant, where I had my temperature taken before being allowed to sit. Actually this was a quite tasteful spot. 

More tasteful than the food. One of the many symptoms of covid is a loss of the sense of taste. Genuinely the thought occurred to me at dinner that such tasty LOOKING food should taste so much more than it did. Was it me? The vibrantly green pea soup looked delicious, but tasted of very little.

The pasta was no better

The chocolate mousse gave me some hope that it was the insipidness of the food rather than my taste buds that was at fault.

I asked for a beer and was offered Heineken. I did ask if there was anything else and only then was I offered a local craft beer option. This was Reb Hell. Get it? Local lager. Well, better than Heineken.

The lounge  was not exactly atmospheric. If I had sat there I would have been totally alone, for miles around. No social distancing issues here. Which does bring me to my one airport safety bugbear. Lots of signs telling us to socially distance. Have to wear masks (and not just any mask, but the disposable clinical masks). BUT, when it comes to the little buses taking you from plane to terminal, any social distancing? Not a chance. You are herded in like any metro in rush hour, and then held until they are packed. Of course they could lay on extra buses, but no. Passenger safety really not as big a priority as airports would like to claim. 

After a good night's sleep I arranged to meet Thibault and Clarissa for the world's most bizarre game of wife swap. Swap wife at airport for short old bloke. No wonder Thibault doesn't look happy. End of holiday for Clarissa; beginning for me. 😊

Birthday week (2)

 On the actual day of my birthday I was due to have lunch in town with Bish. My friendship with him was for me one of the saving graces of lockdown. We have become much closer friends, albeit mostly through epic what's app messaging. But today serendipitously he was due to come into London so we could meet for lunch, and go for a walk afterwards to sate our common interest in architecture. 

I came into Old Street to avoid using the underground, and then allowed myself plenty of time to walk across London to our agreed meeting point at Warren Street, which meant following round the City Road. This, although a main artery, is actually an interesting route. With a  lot of impressive new buildings having gone up. Just not sure whether the market will be so strong for apartments on the edge of the City now...

This little walk (about 45 minutes) did take me past St Pancras hotel, looking splendid in the sunshine.

Bish had booked lunch at the Portman. Now this is not a place where money has been spent on the decor. It looks a bit like a works canteen. And the portions are not large, although for a three course lunch they were just nice. But the service was impeccable and I every morsel was delicious.

Lunch starter - squid ink linguine with trout roe

My main course - Roasted duck, confit leg, beetroot, cherry & radicchio

Bish went for lamb, ratatouille & ricotta

Followed by cheese

While I went for the brioche pain perdu, stone fruits, lemon verbena & yoghurt sorbet 

And since it was my birthday, the tiniest little "cake" to finish. Sweet!

And then we had our little walk around Fitzrovia and Bloomsbury

Senate House - a rather overbearing bit of art deco

St George the Martyr church

Queen Square

St George's Gardens are a rather hidden secret. You would not find them on a random wander. You need to know they are there, tucked away

St George's Bloomsbury, a Hawksmoor church

The Eisenhower Centre, now a storage depot but once the underground HQ of General Eisenhower during WWII

Pollocks Toy Museum

Statue to General Francisco de Miranda who was once a resident of Fitzroy Square - a South American revolutionary

Fitzroy Square was one of several great squares we passed through. It was developed by two brothers of the better known Robert Adam.

A splendid design feature of all these squares is the central garden, most of which are not open to the public, just the residents of the Square

So after ever such a nice walk, and general chat with Bish about life, the universe and everything, I wandered back whence I came to Old Street for the train home top prepare for my evening visitors, Eric and Elaine. Time for a late night drink in my back garden.

Along with Bish, Elaine has been another of my stalwarts over lockdown, changing from a charming work colleague whom I little new to being one of my best friends with whom I message most days.😊

It was a lovely end to a lovely day.