It was only 4.15 and I'd already heard four renditions of Santa Lucia floating beneath my window. Naturally I think anyone who comes to Venice is entitled to their gondola ride but a girl can only take so much, so I decided to go out and do a few chores. First stop the optician because this past weekend I broke two pairs of glasses. I guess I've been doing a lot of heavy looking. But today is Monday. So why would my oculist be open.

Next stop was Angelo's to buy cherries for breakfast. But at 4.45 Angelo was still in the siesta sack. At 5.15 when I started my homeward trudge he still hadn't reopened. He was sort of in the back of the shop, scratching himself and ignoring my sign language. And as I've written so often before, this kind of thing can get a person down.

On the other hand I can't think of anywhere else in the world I might have seen, in the space of just fifteen minutes,
1. a man in a greasy muscle shirt carrying a pink and blue Murano chandelier on his head
2. a man choosing yogurts in the supermarket with a violin and a bow under his arm and
3. our 83 year old downstairs neighbour being complimented on her scarlet toenails by some 90 year old rake who hangs out in the square and tries to pull younger women.

So by the time I got home my frustrations were forgotten and I was quite back in love with the place. I think I can even take a little more Santa Lucia before the sun sets. And it'll just have to be peaches again for breakfast.