Keep death on the roads

I love driving in Italy. I live and drive in an area of France, where the driving is quite fast but can be downright dangerous. I drive in England where it’s quick, aggressive but quite safe, in Spain where it’s very fast and safe, but you never come across anything like they drive in Italy. They’re crazy. In the space of a quick trip to the supermarket this morning we were nearly hit from the side by a crazy woman jumping the lights and whilst we waited at the lights for a left turn, against a red light, some bozo overtook us on the wrong side of the road and ignoring everything else turned left whilst cars skidded around him. You drive with your heart in your mouth but as long as you are very, very aware you can arrive safely. It takes time and effort, and if you ignore all your instincts, and watch what they do, you can have a lot of fun.

I love Italian television. It’s so bad, it’s good. Over lunch on Tuesday the TV is blazing away in the background and there’s a cooking programme on. I think they were cooking a cheese and turnip recipe (you’re a mean sod – Ed) and at a certain point the tall, willowy, beautiful hostess (with her ample breasts hanging out), the short fat cook, and some other guy all start dancing to music. At which point all the bloody audience jump up and start dancing as well. The gorgeous hostess, who has obviously never cooked a thing in her life starts to cut an onion. It was so, so funny. Excellent.

Whilst I find Italy a wonderful place, it has scenery to die for, the food is wonderful and the people are open and friendly, in many ways it can also be frustrating and incomprehensible. I wonder if it would drive me mad if I lived there? In some ways it’s a little like France. Rules appear to have evolved in a way to combat thieves or those trying to buck the system. For example we popped out to buy something at a large shop. We paid for the goods, took the receipt and then were directed to a security guard near the exit who checked the goods, tallied the goods with the receipt and then gave us a bag to put the goods in. They don’t even trust their cashiers!

Or the little old lady, way over the speed limit, hunched over the wheel of her car, sitting on my tail and flashing me as I was obviously pulling over to let her past.

Or I get to Pescara Airport, which proudly announces that it has wi-fi so that I can happily while away a couple of hours, but the shop that sells the cards that help you connect is shut and there is no way that you can buy time on line. What a stupid system and very frustrating.

However, it's still a bloody nice country.