Vacanze!

The time had come for a proper holiday. Of course we're blessed to be able to take weekend breaks all over the shop and have friends to stay with into the deal, but really, a full week in Italy is where it's at.

We started in Milan, late and hungry, hurtling down the motorway in a tiny car with a huge man at the wheel. Four sunny days in Milan followed, with home base in a flat along the canal and an Irish/English couple to visit. We wandered the city, not a great beauty spot as we knew, but a great visit nonetheless thanks to the touristing efforts of our lovely hosts. We ate ice cream and befriended well-dressed babies in Pavia, and avoided guided tours in the Certosa to the monks' crotchety annoyance. Sandwiches ordered from kiosks bore politicians' names (Fascist and Communist, thank you) and the aperitivi were epic.

We had Saint Patrick's Day with silly hats and bad pints, furrin' style, in a pub that thought it was Irish, but could have been anything, and ate tricolor risotto. Life was good, and we hopped the Eurostar to Rome where we'd rented a massive flat in Trastevere. It was a great way to do it, as we soon felt at home, getting to know the neighbourhood as a neighbourhood, complete with sunny morning market, playground and family bars for espresso and sticky cornetti.

Rome is a lot like Paris in early spring, and we pooked along through the Jewish Quarter, along the river, round and round the Pantheon and beyond. It was beautiful, winding and full of extremely tasty food of the fried Roman variety. We went back to Da Enzo for carciofi and fiori di zucca, and discovered Le Mani in Pasta for cacio e pepe. And when the Vatican became too big, we found the smallest hole-in-the-wall for fabulous sandwiches, a place where the wine came decanted into empty Scotch bottles. Odd little bars popped up at every turn, one with an indefatigable Joe Pesci double at the helm, pork-pie hatted and ready for a good time.