Seems I took an unplanned hiatus. Some travel writer I would make! As it is, I am sitting on a balcony in Rome, looking out at the typical terracotta and pale-yellow hues of the buildings all around; the green shutters which I love, the beautiful trees and, of course, the roof terraces visible beneath a pale blue sky sprinkled with benign cotton wool clouds. Spilling over from the balcony above are lemons, hanging ripe from their green foliage, happy in these Mediterranean climes … and who wouldn’t be? The sun has been shining all day; in fact, although arriving in a downpour – in the dark – a week past Wednesday, the sun has been shining every day with temperatures in the mid-twenties, if not higher. Summer days we longed for in Scotland but never had. It is unusually humid, though, and the mosquitoes are still at large but …
I check the weather back home every so often, forever questioning why we continue to live in a world of grey? Being here is like opening a window and filling one’s eyes and mind with colour; replenishing one’s soul, depleted by the drab and mundane, as though, now, attached to a life-saving drip designed to stimulate and ignite. Rome is alive, the vibrancy infectious, while, at every turn there is a reminder of its incredible legacy in the revered ruins of the ancient forums, arches, temples, the Colosseum, the Circus Maximus. Two thousand years old, they may be artefacts of a bygone world but one to which we owe so much. Stand in the wake of the Colosseum or pause, looking over the wall to the forum and imagine; just imagine. A people so vital, so passionate about learning and education, about life. Creative, skilled, ambitious, they were nothing if not brutal but they were so much more, as we continue to discover to this day. Rome is awash with the evidence of its forebears around every corner. Testament to them that so much remains. Makes one ponder our legacy. Truly shameful in juxtaposition. The Fall of the Roman Empire? In hindsight, perhaps mankind.
Rome has that effect on me. It’s humbling and one cannot help but compare and contrast. As the UK descends further into the abyss and our new communist government gleefully laugh in the face of their broken promises, there is no further need for pretence. Blatant, now, in their ruthlessness, popularity is no longer of consequence in their quest for ultimate control. Increasingly squeezed financially, our every move digitally monitored, free speech is all but forbidden as we cower beneath the tyranny of migrants, illegal or otherwise. Nobody cares. Ironically, they are not monitored … At least in Rome, people are living! Admittedly, most dress in black – always found that weird – but there is an enthusiasm for life. There are gatherings in piazzas, outside shops, everywhere; people enjoying the company of others, eating, drinking or merely regaling their day. Interacting. Connecting, no heed to age. For families are important here, the elderly respected. Compare and contrast …
Ryanair brought me here. I was frisked – always – the size of my cabin bag checked, just because, and seated beside an oversized man who, I assume, had purchased two seats – thankfully. Quite honestly, the focus on baggage weight is becoming increasingly irrelevant! Immediately, on take-off, the queue for the loos formed – why? Seriously, I have never understood the propensity for weak bladders, or those who have failed to compute that they should relieve themselves of their twenty pints in Wetherspoons before boarding! Most neither sniff a drink nor morsel of food for the entire duration of the flight anymore, having already been bled dry for the privilege of a seat and one’s accompanying valuables. Next, they’ll be charging for the cattle truck to and from the plane … So it is that I spend the entire flight almost grateful for my liquid abstinence having observed those queueing in the aisle. After him? Not a chance!
How I long for the days of gentility when there were ladies and gentlemen, manners, a pilot who sounded like Gregory Peck, plenty of room and a free drinks trolley. May I have a brandy and ginger ale, please? It came in a little bottle – a double – with an accompanying glass. No more. All that was once good …
Have I booked my return flight? Would you? Apart from anything else, Ryanair prices are so ridiculous – and so erratic. There is no predicting. However, I must screw my courage to the sticking place and return. No question that when my book is a coveted bestseller en route to the big screen – or I win the lottery … What’s that? Both, equally ludicrous? Just remember that he, who laughs last, laughs longest! I was going to impart that, in my inevitable, forthcoming wealth, I shall employ a chauffeur. Bliss. Actually, why stop there? To be continued.
Now, November 5th, it is US Election Day, as I write. Every news bulletin on the radio has been emphasising how close it is: ‘neck and neck’. Of course. Much easier to doctor the votes that way. One thing about which I do agree, though, is the importance of the result, worldwide. Rise or fall. Sink or swim. I have my fingers well and truly crossed but, suffice to say, I even scare myself with the depth of my cynicism. For corruption abounds in everything, not least in the bid to keep Donald Trump out of the Whitehouse. The Left are capable of anything whether it be falsely construed criminal charges or, failing that, assassination. Personally, I believe that Trump is the only free-thinking individual standing; in fact, in the bigger picture. A force to be reckoned with, he is strong and that strengh is desperately needed on a world stage laid bare by the weakness of Biden; a mockery. However, Biden – and, now, Kamala Harris – was merely a puppet; an AI robot programmed and controlled by the Clintons and Obama. The Clintons. The ‘c‘ in corruption. The prospect of Harris enabling a further four years of the same is terrifying. On ground level, meantime, I dislike the play on her colour – regardless of her chosen origin – and as for her voice? Put it this way, she is the ‘f’ in fake. Her name doesn’t begin with ‘F’? No problem. She can change it!
Walking back from a favourite wine bar in the Spanish Steps area the other evening, we were ahead of an American couple talking loudly in support of Trump. Without turning, I raised my hand in support, as we laughed, happy to acknowledge another with a voice. There are many. May they be heard and integrity prevail.
‘The government will one day be corrupt and filled with liars and the people will flock to the one who tells the truth.’
Thomas Jefferson, of some debate. Intuitive, regardless.
This is Trish, signing off.
