Well, almost. It was a pretty good journey - one of the best flights I've had with Monica. She was fine. The fly in the ointment, speaking personally, was that I missed my bus.
I know that the H buses usually leave from a stop near the Pyramids, round the corner from where Monica told me that the bus would be. I was assuming that, this latter stop being the main stop by the coach station, it would be fine.
Never assume - it makes people resort to cheesy mnemonics.
Of course it wasn't, and I missed the bus. I thought I'd be ok as I asked Monica for the times of two buses - I might make mistakes, but I do endeavour not to be a fool. Sadly, traveline.org did not agree with the bus timetable before my eyes at the bus stop. This being a matter of more than academic interest, I deemed it expedient to peg it all the way from the coach station to St. David's Station, in the hope I could get a taxi at a midpoint of Central Station. This is a course I would hesitate to recommend.
I was a trifle discomposed when I got to the station, sweating like a man who's woken at 5:30 and skipped breakfast to move as quickly as tenable with luggage for about half an hour. As I say however, the journey was fine by and large. I had a few headaches, had to wait around in numerous public spaces and Monica almost scalded my groin with hot camomile, but these are all things one learns to take in one's stride with the passage of time.
I even tried out some Italian with the train-ticket-selling-man at Pescara train station. I did ok, but he worked out I was English and told me the train left from "platform three" with a wink and a smile, both of epic proportions.
Having been in Italy for about half an hour, I saw about 5 nuns, 1 monk and a lady crossing herself as she walked through the city. Perhaps I ought to make some sort of graph. Should see a few more of those this evening, as we're off to the Corpus Christi procession this evening. Before that, mass and then we're going to hit the beach with Vane e Lorenzo.
