What’s For Breakfast

In the case of the Italians, the answer is cake - and lots of it! It is going to be a real hardship having to make my own toast and marmalade tomorrow morning because I’ve been enjoying a cooked breakfast followed by several cakes each morning for the past week. My favourite one was an apple cake, but I’ve also had a slice of peach tart or a raspberry turnover as well. Now, as those all contain fruit, it must be okay to say they count as three of my five a day - mustn’t it?
Sadly we had to leave the hotel after breakfast and start the long journey home. It was a real wrench getting on the coach to the airport, especially as it was shaping up to be a warm, sunny day.
No delays getting to the airport, and check-in was a smooth process. But when we arrived at the gate, I was dismayed to see that there would be four very young children on our flight. Hopefully they would be sat at the opposite end of the plane and it would be a reasonably peaceful flight.
No such luck! Despite there being 42 rows of seats to choose from, not only was one of them sat next to me, but the other three were in the rows immediately in front and behind. And then there was an hour’s delay before we actually took off. I was not looking forward to the next three hours. But, to be fair, three of the very young children were quiet as mice throughout the flight, and you barely knew they were there. Unfortunately, one had a pair of lungs that made up for all the others, and wasn’t afraid to use them. Mother was absolutely working overtime to try and calm her offspring - she mainly succeeded but looked totally exhausted from the effort by the time we landed.
A reasonable journey up the M6 to home meant that, twelve hours after we left Sorrento, we were in the house, tea was in the oven and everything had been unpacked. We even had the first load of washing in the machine - potential lack of underwear for tomorrow if we didn’t!
Somewhat depressingly though, the heating is on, we’re wearing jumpers and there are hot water bottles in the bed. We definitely ain’t in Italy any more…