Well all I can say is 'scorchio'. The sun came out around 10am and its been perfect sun and nice temperature all day. Although it might be following the recents pattern of having a heavy shower in the evening. Thunder is rumbling as I write but I hope it stays dry because I want to go into Grado town (about 2.5km) for some food. It's actually started raining in the moments I have been writing this.
It's 30 mins later now and the rain has stopped and its sunny again. I was interrupted by a couple of Skype conversations, one of which was spent pacifying my brother, David, for the comments I made on yesterday's blog about him not contributing to the charity. Anyway, the comment had the desired effect. I think some people may be wanting to make sure that I finish the journey before they contribute - obviously 3800km isn't enough for some people!
OK, what have I done today? The intention was that this would be a nice relaxing day and pretty much that's what it has been. It doesn't help much when I am writing a blog though! This morning I cycled in Grado and I must say I was impressed. It is a lovely town with a wide pedestrian area and nice shops and restaurants. There is water on all sides, there are a couple of beaches, linked by a promenade and there is a harbour area for the yachts and a lagoon with creates a little island part of town. The whole place is a bit of an archipelago (nice word don't you think and it sounds Italian! If you don't know what it means you will have to look it up because I don't know either!). I thought I would look up Grado on Google to give you an extra bit of interesting information and I found out he is a Scottish Wrestler and I actually watched a video of him and wasted 15 minutes of my life in the process!
It dawned upon me that yesterday I didn't have an ice cream and I was starting to develop the withdrawal shakes. I put it right with a swift double cone. I have a special but disgusting method of eating an ice cream. First I eat the ice cream till it gets to a manageable level and then I use my tongue to push the ice cream down the cone. Once the ice cream is level with the top of the cone I put the whole cone into my mouth and use my tongue again to push the ice cream even further down the cone. I nibble the top edge of the cone and then bite off the bottom of the cone and......yes you guessed, I suck the ice cream from the bottom of the cone. I apologise for the excessive information but this is a technique I have perfected over 40 years. Therefore, it must have been my parents fault for not correcting me. All those holidays in the Caravaggio (Italian for caravan!) when I was eating ice creams in this disgusting manner and my parents did not stop me.
After the visit to town I came back to the hotel and went out to the private section of beach for some serious sunbathing. I was given a token from the hotel to show to the beach attendant to allow me to use the loungers. I got into my speedos and went straight in for a swim in the Adriatic. It was lovely, cool and nowhere near as salty as the pool at Trieste. I lay down on the lounger when the attendant came. I showed him the token but there was a problem. At first I thought he was accusing me of 'budgie rustling' but it turned out that the lounger I was on was not one that was allocated to my hotel and I had to move about to a lounger about 5 metres away. A couple of hours in the sun is enough for me, so back to the hotel and a swim in the pool before a siesta in the room.
I still intend to go back to town for something to eat. Not sure what yet? I have got my accommodation booked for tomorrow at Lido di Jesolo. It's close to Venice but I expect it to be a bit like Grado in that it is a beach resort on the same coast.
The song of the day has just come to me, it Joe Bonamasa and 'Funkier than a Mosquito's Tweeter'. No I haven't made it up, look it up and listen to it!
Photo 1, A canal whilst I entered Grado.
Photo 2, Cathedral in Grado.
Photo 3, Old building next to the Cathedral.
Photo 4, A shopping street in Grado.
Photo 5, One of the beaches.
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