Boating

The air was heavy, the sky was atmospheric, yet the lure of the water is too much to take after such a slow transition to summer. 

p.s. spot the name of the ferry?

Friends

The choir, and the tour, have given me nothing if not some very lovely, completely insane, but utterly dependable friends. Here's to the merits of friendship.

"Without friends no one would choose to live, though he had all other goods."

- Artistotle

Concerts

Concert 1: Until you have attempted to manouvre a piano and a double bass on and off of the vaporetti and through the backstreets of Venice, you will never know. We performed at San Polo, a church founded in 837AD but was largely rebuilt in the 15thC that is famous for it's Giovane frescos, in particular that of the dramatic image of the last supper. Rehearsals were a little tense and the crowd a little sporadic made up mostly of passing tourists and the occasional Venetian drawn in by the music prbably duen to the church's central location, but it was a splendid church in which to perform.

Concert 2: In a much quieter, more suburban area of Venice, we arrive at San Pietro di Castello. The current facade dates to the 16thC but a church has been on  this site since the 7thC. It's a minor basillica and served as the cathedral church of Venice between 1451 and 1807. Our concert was also to a smaller crowd made up of locals who use the church but were much more enthusiastic. Speaking to them outside afterwards in shaky Italian as they gave us their approval and told us that we needed more advertising was an absolute pleasure. I will also never forget administering copious amount of first aid in the vestry to all of the choir that had got infected insect bites. Not a pretty site.

 Concert 3: I have no idea where we actually were for this one but we were now on the mainland in a small village square surronded by a carosel and families out enjoying the evening air. It was such a splendid homely atmosphere with children climibing up on the stage to dance with us and thier mum's and grannies clapping along. They called for enchore after enchore but eventually things disipated. We were invited back to a local pizzaria for some drinks and pizza.

Venice

A city with an opulence unlike any other.

At first we were swamped with tourists. Flocking, bustling moving with an ill grace mimicked by the pigeons that flocked St Mark's square. I left that afternoon feeling distinctly uninspired at the city that was now merely a tourist attraction.

When we arrived back the next day, we entered via the sedate backstreets in the south of the city. With an entire day of the city stretching out before us we set off without a map, without a mission, merely with the intentions of escaping the tourists and getting well and truley lost. Then eventually the magic of the city began to settle over us. We started to only hear Italian voices. Shops offering glass were replaced with washing lines fluttering lazily across canals; gondalla rides morphed into men on working boats stopping to chat, shout and share cigarettes with each other; and the throngs of tourists petered out to reveal small wizened old women in black skirts and loose cotton tabbards hurrying along with their shopping.

We ate lunch in a reastraunt overlooking the river, not fleeced like the others chomping pizza near St Mark's square, we had cheap pasta - squid ink spaghetti with cuttlefish, and then calamari. After lunch we found the sea and cooled off in it's breeze, then walked through the Jewish quatre and read in park surronded by the squeals of children and the chime of church bells.

Travelling

Midnight on the day I am leaving for Gospel Tour. My suitcase lays empty. My laundry lays draped around my room encompassing varying degrees of moisture. My passport lies in an unknown location. Downstairs lay 5 exhausted first years, propped up on make shift beds, giggling at the Vicar of Dibley. I regret having gone out for dinner and drinks. I decide to begin with the essentials. I pack the lilo.

The ferry sways across the channel as friends stockpile cheap wine and I eat a diabolical excuse of a burger. We play arcade games to pass the time.

The coach trundles through the rolling hills of France. I teach Gary to knit. Luke teaches us card tricks.

The coach purrs into a service station in Luxembourg. We delight in finding a vending machine filled purely of milk. In the shop we purchase bars of marzipan from the sweet section. The homemade cheese rolls lay forgotten in a rucksac. Outside we discover an adventure playground. Delight ensues. We let off steam fighting to go down the bumpy slide first, and bouncy the highest on the bunjee.

Night begins to settle on Belgium. We watch 10 Things I Hate About You. I manage to drift to sleep. It becomes uncomfortably hot. I awake 2hrs later. Me and Leah, by a miracle, seperate to double seats. I fall asleep until our 6am morning stop.

We awake in Italy. The heavens are open and we dance across a puddle strewn road, heads down against the pin pricks of chilled rain. Struggling to navigate the bizarre queuing system we use shaky italian to order croissants, the undetermined fillings a surprise.

We purr through the north of Italy. The industries busy at the road side cannot detract from the peace of the farmsteds visible among the foothills. No one else is awake to appreciate this.

We arrive: Lido de Jesolo.