If upon hearing I've returned from three nights in Florence you were to ask me: "How many paintings of the Baby Jesus did you gawp at?" Or: "How many marbled penises did you fondle?" I'd be forced to shout, "NONE," at you. I'd then explain that instead of queuing up to stumble, chin-strokingly, around art … Continue reading Florence

Bistrot Pierre

"Bonjour, est Peter dans la maison?""Sorry?""Wae'aye! Is Pierre in the house, like?" That's just a short snippet of a conversation that dragged on for over 45 minutes. Eventually, it became clear that Peter was not in the house. It was at this point too late to find anywhere else to eat, so we agreed to … Continue reading Bistrot Pierre