How much is it to tell me the time?

I saw Jan ironing last night. Admittedly, she was a bit confused with the iron thingie and burnt herself a few times because it's not something she enjoys doing. If I'd had a camera I'd have recorded the event for posterity and posted the photographs under 'scenes you seldom see'!

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We've completed the journey to Italy a few times but we still find it exciting. A bit like the frisson you get when you get into bed with a woman for the first time (that's taking poetic licence a bit too far - Ed.). It's a beautiful journey that deteriorates with the concrete jungle around Cannes and Nice. Anyway, first stop is Lancon de Provence, for a sandwich. The service area is situated just after the toll booths. The peage is enormous, with 25 toll booths side to side. The major problem being that you have to recross all 25 lanes after you exit the peage to get to the service area. Fun nonetheless. A little later, just past Aix en Provence, we passed Mont Victoire. Personally, I can't see what all the fuss is about (but then you're not Cezanne, are you? - Ed.), to me it's just a big lump of rock and should have been pretty easy to paint.

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The journey to San Remo was a bit quicker than I thought and we drove into the town 4 hours after we left home. The Royal Hotel sits on the sea front and has a very long, windy drive to reception. As befits a hotel of this type, you have to do nothing, except tip all and sundry. This I continued to do for the rest of the day. It's all a bit posh, but I coped. It's so posh that I'm typing this from the air conditioned comfort of our elegant room. I've finally got my ancient laptop to work, so there's progress.

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Having had a few (expensive) beers by the pool and idly watched the bagninos ogling all the yummy mummies, we repaired to our room for a siesta (just a siesta!). At least that way you have little chance of spending huge sums of money and don't have to tip anyone. Come to think of it, I'd rather work here than stay here, these guys must be making a fortune and I'm getting paranoid about even asking the time!

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Fainting at the cost of dinner in the 'cheap' restaurant, and not having a jacket to wear in the expensive one, (I like that, they tell you what to wear and then stick their hand in your pocket), we decided to find something that didn't require a remortgage. A few hundred feet down the cliff face, at sea level, Jan had found a restaurant. Ristorante Maona, Corso Imperatrice 86, 0184 53 24 76, is run by Antonio and his family. If there had been an award, I'd have voted Antonio miserable git of the week - month - year. Anyway, I got him talking and he cheered up considerably. He'd spent from 1972 to 81 working in London and, all misty eyed, he said that they were the best years of his life. He shut up as his wife walked by. The food was excellent, we both went overboard on fish, grilled, fried, you name it and everything fresh and very tasty. Jan is an excellent scout and can be hired by the hour. With 2 bottles of wine and stuffed to the gills, the bill came to 93 euros. Up in the hotel, we'd have paid that for just one meal, no wine.