back from bologna

Bologna was great right up to the point when we were at the Italian airport waiting for our flight back. Like your usual friendly low-cost carrier, Ryan Air was late. The airport was small with nothing to eat except weird sandwiches. Nevermind. Then Stansted's passport control had to have this ridiculously long queue at freakin' 12.30am. Having missed the last train back into civilisation, we had to bus it, then cab it separately, and the last member of the posse reached home at 4am.

To add on to my frustration, I stepped on a snail walking to my front door. Sickening crunch, snail squashed, I wiped my boots on the neighbour's patch of grass, crashed into bed fully clothed and woke up with mascara on my pillow and contact lense dried up northwards of eyeball, threatening to lodge itself into brains.

But enough of moaning. Let's rewind a little bit now.

We had a 2-hour little getaway break before heading towards the airport after our Cersaie stint, so Bossman generously shoved us into the main plaza of Bologna - the Piazza Maggiore, fronting the famous San Petronio church. He also tried to get us to eat at the nicest restaurant in town but they close from 3-7pm. Boo. Must give him credit for trying though.

I love Bossman. Even if we had to work in the train. Because he remembers I cannot sit facing the opposite direction. And I love juice. And food makes me happy. And we share a bizarre, warped sense of humour.