You Can Call Me Canal.

I've come to the conclusion that Venice is v. nice.

Last night, we went for a lovely al fresco meal by one of the city's many canals. While we ate, a little girl sitting at the table next to us threw chunks of bread into the water, which were instantly engulfed by a swarm of fish. It would have been sinister if it wasn't for the picturesque setting. I was tucking into a plate of sea bass at the time, anyway, so I had the upper hand.


The hotel is ridiculously plush. Our room is like a small flat. I happened to mention we were on our honeymoon on checking in. Within minutes, they'd brought us a bottle of champagne and some fruit. I should get married more often (or say I have, at least).

In the night, I was woken by the sound of thunder. It was very dramatic. Yet there was no evidence of the heavy downpour by morning; one of the plus points of being in such a hot climate, I guess.

Today I have been mostly walking, with a little sitting, eating and drinking thrown in. It's not sort of place where you plan a route. You take each turning, hoping for the best. Sometimes you hit a dead end, sometimes you don't. The architecture everywhere is beautiful; even the dilapidated streets are lovely to look at.



A highlight of the day was visiting St Mark's Square, to pay a nod to a personal photo from the past. That piazza has seen a lot of Ephgraves through the ages.


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