You see when it comes to having to get up at a specific time I have a built in clock. I never need an alarm call because that would just be alarming. No I just wake up well on time. There is something within me that says being late is not acceptable unless it is due to circumstances beyond my control.
So I was awake at 3 am despite not needing to get up until 4.30. We were waiting for a taxi 10 minutes before it was due to arrive. We were at the airport 45 minutes before our group meeting time and three hours before our flight.
Now my other three-quarters doesn't understand this. She's a kind of last minute gal. My grandmother never saw the need to hurry. Better to be 10 minutes late in this world than 30 years early in the next, she said.
At least Heathrow is a relatively pleasant airport unlike Stansted. But airports have developed a new cash cow. The London ones charge you to drop off or pick up. At Heathrow and Gatwick it's £5 but at Luton and Stansted it's £8. This seems totally ridiculous to me. Mind you at Norwich airport you have to pay a tenner to fly. It's put down as an airport development tax but it rakes in millions every year and there never seems to be much for all that money.
The flight to Naples was quick and smooth. So now to stating the bleedin obvious no 1.
Facemasks have to be worn on all flights to and from Italy. During the safety briefing before take off we had the usual stuff about in the case of emergency oxygen masks will drop from somewhere magical. But then we had the gem. Please take off your facemask before putting on the oxygen mask.
The service from British Airways was poor. We were supposed to have water and a snack and then tea and coffee. We got the water but nothing else. Apparently they only had enough snacks for the return journey. Don't know how they decided the returnees should have them and not us. It's all part of the staff shortage thing. Our tour manager feels things won't return to what they were due to staff shortages affecting all of Europe and that's not a comforting thought.
Before setting off for Italy I spent most of an afternoon filling in health forms and printing them out, forms we were never asked for.
It was a long old coach drive from Naples to Tropea which is in Calabria, a relatively unspoilt and largely undiscovered part of the country. It took almost eight hours with an hour stop for lunch and 15 minutes for coffee.
As we left Naples, one of my favourite songs kept playing in my head. Who remembers the following lyrics:
I remember the back streets of Naples
Two children begging in rags
Both touched with a burning ambition
To shake off their lowly born tags, and they try
So look into my face, Marie-Claire
And remember just who you are
Then go and forget me forever
But I know you still bear the scar deep inside, yes you do.
I love songs that paint pictures and have stories and this by Peter Sarstedt is one of the best and is so poignant and I found myself singing it as we drove round the outskirts of Napoli.
I also seem to associate Naples with Gracie Fields the lass from Rochdale in Lancashire who was always known as Our Gracie despite moving to live on the Isle of Capri. That should have made her Their Gracie.
I remember reading two biographies as a boy. Both entranced me.
One was about footballer Stanley Matthews and the other about Our or Their Gracie. Capri is a 50 minute boat trip from Naples.
We had a guide on our coach for the day. He was actually German and kept apologising for his poor English which wasn't poor at all. In fact he was fluid, I mean fluent. Goodness knows how many languages he speaks as he moved effortlessly from Italian to English.
Tomorrow I will have some photographs of our first views of Tropea which was voted Italy's prettiest village in 2021. By the time we got to our hotel it was too dark to see anything other than the walls of quite a small room.