On a map, we drove from the thigh to the mid-calf of Italy, and after seven hours we were still in the storm. Civitanovia, like any Italian coastal city was built for the sun, so my fantasy of beach parties and beach babes was shot down as we arrived in what looked to be Blackpool.
More optimistically, Civitanovia had the best lightening storm I’d ever seen. The best seat in the house was on the beach, more specifically on top of a child’s climbing frame. Memorable, life affirming, pretty stupid. Six of us ended up stranded for twenty minutes under continuous forks of lightening, until a bartender came bounding across the beach with two huge umbrellas. Bit of a risk I thought, but then he must have weighed up his chances of survival against ours. A bit wet and happy to be alive, we celebrated with beer and snack food. Must be how the bartenders make their business.
Show was great. Uprising went down a treat. After the second curtain call, the technicians were ready to go home, but those stubborn Italian’s kept on clapping for another 5 minutes of calls. Doesn’t sound like much, but the bows in our company tend to go a bit headless chicken after the first two calls. We’re just too humble I suppose.
High Point – Near-death-lightning-bolt-dodging (slightly dramatized)
Elias’s Birthday party.
Low Point – Not finding any food after four hours of walking the streets (not at all dramatized)