Tales from Todi.
It is always the unexpected that brings the most pleasure. The meal at Baschi on the Tiber just south of Ovietto was such. The year before when taking the Fangens back to the station for their trip to Rome we had dined at the much rated Trippini high up in Civitella di Lago. The names all sing of heat and history.
Baschi like most small towns in Umbria is easily described. Set on a hill, once fortified, bleached by sun its alley ways worn by history and well maintained by EU cash. The square has its war memorial, Baroque church, town hall and fountain. The handsome lady pointed the way to the restaurant C’era una volta sapore(Once upon a time). 20 minutes and at least two hundred years later we were there. Where are you from, asked the other two diners. England. And you. Egypt. Much laughter. Delightful ravioli and salad followed, washed down with always stylish Peroni beer. An ancient mother and her son joined us. Ciao.
Across the town the old church looked down at us, blessed us, forgave our foolish ways, heard our confession and we moved on. We had plenty of time and as it turned out ,the Fangens train was an hour late. Mussolini a distant memory. Hazy,lazy days of summer.
The year before we had found the Todi Lido with its 50 metre pool,chutes and play areas . But being September it was closed for the winter. Now in glorious June there was no excuse. 8 euros, 5 if you are 70 plus. We four blagged our way in on my seniority. But wait, you must have swimming hats, 4 euros each. Todi Lido 12 Tourists 9. Many bellisima mummas with the tiniest bikinis and buns to eat. A lot of kids jumping in and crawling out. But almost no one using the section designed for laps in the middle of the pool. So we Brexiteers could get on with the business of swimming not as idle, Southern European pleasure but as serious exercise.