At last I am back in Venice, (mentally, not physically) writing about the rest of our final day there.
After our tours and icecreams we stopped to enjoy a game of football, played by youngsters dressed for the theatre, or perhaps this is how the youth of Venice always dress for their games.
We then headed back towards the hotel and as we crossed one of many bridges I recognised the restaurant where, on my previous trip, I had
dined with my husband. He has been dead for five years so it was with some trepidation that I went back and sat at the same table, hoping for a meal as good as that previous one.
The ambience was the same, the waiter as
charming as before and the food equally delicious. The view from our window was even more entertaining. In another country I’m prepared to be a people watcher and not be concerned about capturing a beautiful moment.