The weather has definitely improved by Monday.

Breakfast is good again, and this time I bring the camera to share the view. The dome thing is St Peters. We are to have a day being tourists. Not wishing to be too conventional in our tourism we have decided to take myspace pictures of Mab and Little Fish t-shirts.

First stop St Peters and the Vatican. Very hot here and not surprisingly crowded. Whilst we have lots of t-shirts, none of us are suitably dressed to be allowed inside; The queue looks too long for undetermined tourists like us. We take various pics of me in Little Fish squid squad t-shirt, voltane in Mab T-shirt, me and voltane in Mab t-shirts and Swan holding a little fish t-shirt over a fountain. Mostly with St Peters in the background.

We have become more accustomed to the heat, and how to deal with it. We try to stay in the shade, drink lots of water, and rest alot.

Next stop the Coliseum. Even hotter here. We compare the melting rates of ice-cream flavours; chocolate melts very fast and gets everywhere, my lemon is the clear winner with nothing on my shirt or the ground. Ambling around the Coliseum we dodge the swarm of guides offering tours in english. To actually get in the attraction either involves a 30 minutes queue or paying extra for a guide. We decide the money and time would be better spent on lunch.

After a pleasant and reasonably priced lunch (we run off quickly as €40 for 3 seems very cheap) we stroll past a lot of ruins which constitute a tourist attraction. I think its part of the forum. Outside some big palace named after an Italian king we find some appealing fountains. Just the place to photograph a Little Fish t-shirt. The Little Fish is barely in the fountain...

before a policeman starts whistling at us and hurries over gesticulating. We rush off before he can catch us, melting into the crowds. It is difficult to look inconspicuous with a dripping t-shirt round the neck.

We survive to fight another day. As the sun begins to set we come across another fountain in the Piazza del Popolo. This one is not policed; the little fish is able to bask peacefully in the water. As no-one starts whistling Swan goes for a paddle in the fountain.

A little fish in a fountain in Rome

A day of alternative tourism has been quite cheap, and maybe a bit less tiring than joining the queues.

Second trip of the month to see Mab in Italy. This time I have companions: Voltane is travelling out with me and Swan is joining us tomorrow. Like Venice I got to bed late, but this time the flight is a relatively civilised 8.40 departure. So I have 4 hours sleep rather than the 2 I had before Venice. Generally it seems best to be dozey at the airport, so as to not get annoyed with stuff (or even notice stuff). However being half-awake can be embarassing. I was only thinking how strange that having got though security the people in front seemed to have forgotten their laptop when some girl started tugging at the bag on my shoulder suggesting that it was hers. It seems that was what Voltane had just told me... but when you're half asleep one bag looks much like another (to be fair both were black and heavy).

After my discussions about EasyJet earlier in the month, I was surprised how different Ryanair approached boarding passengers. There seemed to be priority for people who had bought priority boarding (which I don't think is restricted) and then a free for all. None of this namby-pamby crypto-socialism employed by Easyjet where people with young childern or disabilities are allowed on first (obviously not before those who have paid extra). Luckily no-one was trampled in the rush on our flight (if someone is trampled you have to wait while their luggage is removed, so its not a good thing, even if there may be some spare seats).

Interestingly on Ryanair you can't put your bag under the seat if you're in the back row, although you can on Easyjet. They said this is for safety reasons. Quite worrying really as the back row seems no different to any other in this respect, so the whole of the rest of the plane must be unsafe (or maybe not). We left about an hour late due to low pressure in the fuel system at Stanstead, which meant we missed our take-off slot. By this time I was beginning to wake-up. Voltane, like about 50% of his fellow travellers is reading Harry Potter, presumably most of the other 50% have finished it. I'm listening to my mp3 player with the usual little songs on it plus 'Give 'Em Enough Rope' which I have loaded specially for the trip. Uneventful trip although the slightly catty remarks from the stewards behind me are quite amusing when the pilot makes a rather heavy landing.

Rome is hot - it says on the TV that its 34C today. The Coach to Termini seems to have dodgy air-conditioning and I'm already damp to the touch by we reach the centre of Rome. Using my vague directions to the hotel is not totally successful; fortunately we've got the right tram stop so a glance at the map soon sorts out the error. By now I am dripping with sweat and my t-shirt soaked like a little fish gig.

The hotel is chosen for it's proximity to tomorrow's venue so may be a little further out from the centre than many of you would choose, but it really is only a couple of minutes from the tramstop, and the tramstop only 3 stops from the metro and Piazza del Popolo. The room doesn't have much of a view but it does have air-conditioning and a free (non-alcoholic) mini-bar which is nice.

Having changed into shorts and cool stuff we rush off into the afternoon heat. Rushing was a bit of a mistake and crawling is the better option. We end up at the Spanish steps - here's a pic of me in shorts and special t-shirt (taken by Voltane, art-direction and styling by me).

We have an icecream but by we get back to the hotel I am starving and Voltane is not feeling well. Whilst he rests I try to get to grips with the transport system in the guidebook. Wake up after about 20 mins. We decide to dine fashionably late (as it is too late to be unfashionable). After wandering around for a while we settle on a pizza place where we can sit outside. Nothing special but nice enough and house wine very drinkable. Asleep before 11pm, oh no what will people think, can this be rock and roll.

Tonight I flew back from Venice. I had a pleasant day meandering around , mainly sitting on water buses riding up and down . Not only does this give your feet a rest, but provides a kalidescope of touristic views as we sail along. I find this particularly exciting as there are photographic moments to be grabbed rather than pondered. I don't really do pondered, it doesn't fit in with 'restless and pacing'.  The key to a sucessful trip on a waterbus (touristically) is to go to the end of the route and wait until you can be first onto the boat, then you can sit in one of the 7 outdoor seats at the back (or on some boats there also some at the front). Sometimes I wear my mp3 player and listen to encouraging songs (particularly enjoyed the White Stripes new cd, along with many of the bands I rave about on this blog), sometimes I listen to the fellow passengers, many of whom are tourists and have strange tales to tell. The locals may also have strange and interesting tales to tell but I don't have any italian so I have to rely on the english speakers for my tit-bits. Sad to say nothing I heard was strange or interesting enough to find its way into this blog.

This riding up and down has left me with a red forehead; normally a little sun would not effect me so badly, but this english summer has been so poor my skin has not aclimatised to the summer sun yet. Fortunately I am not struck down, but have the mildist of discomfort by the end of the day.

Having planned to catch a suitable waterbus to the airport for my flight I  arrive nicely at the ticket office. The ticket-seller then tries to sell me a ticket for a fast bus to the airport at  €25, rather than the slow bus at €12. As I had made my plans on the bus taking 1hr 20mins, catching the fast bus would have been completely pointless and just left me hanging round even longer at the airport. So I didn't.

Ok so that was more detail than you wanted, but do read on, my point will become less obscure. Check-in and security were unexceptional. Strangely the airport cafe was the only place that I came across in my stay which complied with my guidebook's guidance on buying things in a cafe. First you go to the till and pay for what you want, then you take the till receipt to the serving person. In my case I had to take it to the sandwich person on one side of the till then on to the capacchino person on the other side of the till. The man in front of me got something completely different to what he wanted as he couldn't point at what he wanted and the till-person just interpreted 'sandwich' into a particular sandwich of her choice. I was a little better prepared, ha ha. Whilst I am not in favour of internationalisation (americanisation) I do think it a little cruel to retain this quaint custom only at the airport full of foreigners.

When we arrived at the gate at the appointed hour we found a screen announcing that the flight was running half an hour late. After a brief moment of annoyance I decided that half an hour didn't matter as I hadn't any exact idea of when we were supposed to get back to Gatwick anyway, and half an hour wasn't that long. So I found a nice place on the floor, listened to some music and read a book. Around the time we were supposed to fly a check-in type person arrived, so virtually everyone jumped up and pressed towards the desk. I and a few other sane people didn't. For a moment I did wonder whether I'd missed some vital announcement about there only being room for the first 70 people or something like that, but I don't think I did. After about 5 minutes of nothing happening there was a general drift back to the seats. Then comes the easyjet speil about people who've paid £2.50 extra being allowed on first, then childern, then people with an A on their boarding card then finally those with a B. Meanwhile 2 coaches have arrived to take all 140 passengers to the plane (yes that's 70 in each). Well I didn't pay £2.50, I don't have any childern , although I suspect 1 can be hired for less that £2.50 and I've no idea what you have to do to get an A on your priority; so I'm a B then. Most of the other B's still seem to think sitting(well most stand of course) on the coach is better that sitting comfortably in the terminal. Very few seem to have considered that the last person onto the coach will be the first off the coach. The first coach which is shared by those who have paid extra and a large school party departs. The rest of us get on the second coach. I am in the last 10 to leave the terminal. I think I'm probably around 85th on the plane, I get a seat; I get to Gatwick the same time as everyone else; Next time I won't be paying £2.50 or hiring a child either.

"Sono nella lista delgi invitati" , so says my note for the box office. Mab are not playing their own set at this special gig, but are making guest appearances during Franco Battiato's evening. In Italy Franco Battiato is big (tomorrow Peter Gabriel plays here).
I am lucky that I thought ahead and have the italian for 'I am on the guestlist written down as the box-office tent does not appear to have any English. Actually they seem quite amused by my note (PJ wrote it for me earlier this afternoon).
For the occasion I have dressed in my aged rockstar look - linen & silk suit with a stripey t-shirt. The invited have a reserved block of seats at stage left, most of them seem to be journalists and their friends. 

The show is due to start at 9, but nothing happens till 9.30. The orchestra is milling around backstage (which is a blocked off area to the left of the stage). The girls are also there and wave to me, which is sweet.

I am not familiar with Franco Battiato's music, but he has a ton of cds out in Italy. He starts with some slow numbers where he sits and sings. After maybe half an hour he introduces Lisa and Marina from Mab, who sing with him on 'Era L'inizio della primavera'. Its so moving my eyes threaten to water.

Some more songs from Battiato, then he brings back Marina and Lisa, and introduces PJ. They join him in singing Ruby Tuesday, the Rolling Stones song from the sixties. For the final chorus PJ's soprano pierces the venetian night and brings a tear to the eye.

 A few more songs from Battiato. All this time everyone has been seated (apart from the occasional drifting smoker) not least because the seats at the front were more expensive, but as Mab (with instruments) join Franco for what is to be "il vuoto" his recent single and title track of his latest album, there is a sudden charge of people to the stage. There seems to be no objection from Security, so I don't know whether it is orchestrated! This is the finale; this is Mab on the big stage; this is Mab in venice; this is wonderful. I'm so glad I came ...

The day rises brightly. I am awake at 6.30. Breakfast isn't till 7, so I go off to catch the early morning light and relatively quiet streets.

Cover quite a lot of ground before returning for breakfast. Excellent selection including very attractive tartes. Have too much to eat, but not quite feeling sick afterwards.

I have lunch in a pleasant outdoor restuarant need the beach. I just stayed on the waterbus to the end of the line and found myself at the Lido. Leisurely tourist lunch with spaghetti as primo course, Sole and chips for main course, strawberries for pud. very nice. still quite expensive.Its 3pm by I finish.

I've deliberately had a large late lunch as I don't know what's happening later, best to be flexible. On my way back to the hotel I decide to pass through Piazza San Marco to see how the setting up is going. On the stage I see the long (now blonde) hair which I recognise as PJ. All the girls are here having arrived direct from the airport. How lovely to meet them.

Three hours later I am on my way to the airport. I feel quite fresh after over 2 hours sleep. At 5am in the morning the M25 is quiet and the journey speedy. Everything moves smoothly at the airport with time for a cooked breakfast and off we go. I have some vauge feeling that there was some delay along the way but I wasn't in a rush and really can't remember anything specific, maybe it was fussing around trying to get euros from the unresponsive bank machine, or queueing for a boat ticket to Venice. My Lloyds bank card wouldn't give me any money and I was getting a bit worried as I had only 7 euros. Fortunately my John Lewis credit card was more forthcoming (more on this later). Its around midday local time and hot. The boat journey is quite pleasant although I think I'm beginning to doze off at times. Non-sense is quite close. I have looked at a map; I know where I am going; The boat stops at San Zaccarlia just near St Mark's square, most people get off, is this the end of the line, should I get off; no I know the san marco stop is at the other end of the square. Fortunately this is true. I wander through the streets heading for where I think my hotel is, and behold it appears in front of me, quelle surprise! (I know that's french, I can only do 'Prego' in Italian).

The hotel is very nice (with the view above). The reservation is fine, the facilities everything I need, the staff polite and efficient. I really can't find any blemish with this hotel at all (not that I'm trying to). So I just have a little sleep. When I wake it has clouded over and looks rather thundery. I pop out to have a fairly random stroll. Seem to have missed lunch somewhere so have a bit of tarte and a capuccino vaguely behind San Marco and an ice cream somewhere else.  The heavens open. It reminds me of London 24 hours previously, but warmer.

I see that the stage being built in the piazza san marco is huge. (Not pictured yet, see tomorrow).

Back to the hotel. Just relaxing in the bath when I get a phone call from Lloyds bank security department telling me they have thwarted some devilish criminal who has tried to use my debit card in Italy. I am not amused. Every week I get huge amounts of worthless correspondence from Lloyds Bank, and only the day before I left, I got a special notice informing me that they were increasing their charges for foreign withdrawls again. Nowhere in any of this vast environmental decadence do they bother mentioning that you can't use your card in Italy. Having established that there is quite a strong possibility that it is indeed the account holder they are speaking to, they reluctantly agree they might let me have some cash. How different to the John Lewis credit card people who phone 5 mins later to confirm that it was me who withdrew money from a cash machine in Venice.

At least I may be ok for cash now. Resturants in Venice are not cheap. I stroll around looking for reasonably priced quality. I manage to find one that looks adequate with Capaccio on offer. I also try the ravioli soup and the venetian calves liver. The capaccio is excellent, the other two are a little salty. Actually I am rather full by the liver arrives and I'm not sure I was able to appreciate it as I would have done with more appetite. Overall ok rather than special. Anywhere in France I would have expercted to pay 20 - 25 euros for the meal, here it was around 50 euros. By the end of the meal I am beginning to aclimatise to the language and am sucessful with my prepared phrase 'Il conto per favore'. Dining alone is a strange experience and one which I am initially unsure of; on this occasion I passed the time between courses by phone blogging (as some of you will know). In fact the only real thing to regret about eating alone is that I can only try half as many items of the menu as I could if I had an adventurous companion. On the other hand the cost of the meal would also be double.

Back to hotel, consider a quick nightcap in the bar, but after a quick glance at the guidebook wake up still in my clothes 2 hours later. No sign of knife weilding dwarves in red dufflecoats :-) or Julie Christie :-(

View of the vineyards from bedroom window

The Chambres D'hotes

View from the terrace