Last night, for some strange reason, I did not sleep well. It seemed (although it is probably not true) that I woke up every half an hour or so and so, this morning, feel like …. well ….crap!
The entry on this blog for 4th November has GOT to be the funniest I have read. In particular the conversation with the drunken customer about the pizzas (or, more correctly, pizze) and, more specifically, this bit:
This was originally titled The Kindness of Strangers Friends but my titles don’t allow for different font styles. Anyway, on to the post ……..
There are moments when I am happy to be alive and, particularly, happy to be here, in Italy and, for that matter, in Milan.
Well, here I am at another literary festival. This one is one run by the Hay Festival but in Segovia, near Madrid.
To get here I had, what I can only describe as the journey from hell which I would hope to post about later, when I have more time. However, there was a point (probably after we had been sitting on the tarmac for over an hour) when I really thought I wouldn’t get here this side of Christmas!
I arrived in Segovia at about 1.30 a.m. this morning. Had a few beers with S, got to bed about 3.30 a.m. and was up at 8 to be at the Box Office for 10.
So, we have the normal problems with the Box Office (people picking the wrong events, tickets not having arrived, leaving their tickets at home, etc.) plus the added joy of everything being in a foreign language – and I’m a little tired.
However, unlike Hay, we closed the Box Office for a whole hour for lunch; I was interviewed by some Spanish television company; the sun is shining; and we are likely to finish the Box Office before midnight.
Also I have met some lovely people already, including some Italians who are helping out here. It’s quite nice to talk to them and they are very sweet. They are ‘stage’ (like an unpaid apprentice) in Madrid for one of the Festival organiser’s husband.
I am, of course, stuck in the Tourist Information centre here, which is where we have our system set up.
I’ve just been interrupted by a lady trying to find out how to work her video camera. Obviously, being the TIC, they are supposed to be able to answer any sort of question. Aren’t people strange?
We have a firework display this evening to mark the opening of the Festival in Segovia and I will, hopefully, see some of it.
More later…
Mantova, Festivaletteratura.- The last Sunday.
Peter Florence (Hay Festival) was there and we spent some pleasant hours with him on Friday and Saturday. He was doing a couple of the events, interviewing some people. But, from the moment that I looked at the site, Christopher Hitchens was the one event that I was not going to miss. It was just after lunch on the final day. Peter was going to be interviewing him (rather him than me). We hadn’t seen Peter since late on Saturday night (after my experience of playing chess with Boris). We got up late, wandered around town for a bit and, as we were travelling back to Milan later, decided that a proper lunch would be a good thing. We went to Griffone Bianco, our favourite restaurant in Mantova
Obviously it was busy – very busy. However, this year, M had bought us (with L from Hay and Juan Hose from Spain) a meal there on the Thursday night and when she was paying I went up to remonstrate with her about her paying the bill and was introduced to the guy behind the desk, who runs the place, and she was telling me they were great friends.
As with Hay Festival, there are events that defy expectations. Usually they are free. Such is one as I write this in Mantova.
Just a short post to say that we are actually in Mantova at the Festivaletteratura.
The sun is shining; the food is exceptional; the people are nice; I’m playing chess with Boris Spassky tomorrow night! Oh yes, it’s true.
I am jealous. I mean really jealous. Take Corpodibacco’s post (Unfortunately, the blog no longer exists) as an example. Here’s a guy who isn’t mother-tongue English, writing stuff that I really like to read. OK so his English isn’t perfect (sorry C) but it’s pretty good and nothing a good editor couldn’t fix if it were to go into print. But his description, the imagery is all there. I, on the other hand, seem to scribble rubbish. Just the trivial facts, nothing of any real meaning.
It is true that, mostly, people are nice. And when people are nice, it lifts you and gives you warm and good feelings inside.