Meeting The Venetians.

Today's blog was written in the sky. 

I'm in a plane, not up a ladder, on my way to Venice for my honeymoon. I've been looking forward to it. Although, at the same time I haven't; with all the wedding excitement, I'd almost forgotten I was going, so the holiday feels like a welcome surprise. 

This isn't my first trip to Venice. I went with my parents in the late Eighties. Despite being seven or eight at the time, I still remember it vividly. I guess this is because the city is so distinctive; there aren't many holiday destinations built almost entirely on or in water (except for the City of Atlantis, which doesn't really count). 

I remember travelling by gondola. I also recall posing for the photograph below. 


We were standing in St Mark's Square, where I'd just watched the little mechanical people who lived in the clock tower make their way out as it struck the hour. Round my neck is a toy camera, full of slides of famous Italian tourist attractions, like the Leaning Tower of Piza or Michelangelo's David, which were visible through the viewfinder. It made me feel like a Proto-David-Bailey, or would have done, if I'd been familiar with his work at this point. 

It's astounding to think that was at least twenty-five years ago. Have I been alive for long enough to say that? If you'd told the me standing there, with my pretend SLR and my not-so-pretend father, that my next visit would be with my wife-of-forty-eight-hours, I would have laughed in your face. Either that, or branded you a witch. 

In life, you never know what's around the corner. Unless you've looked up the route on Google Maps.


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