Bargo Pinti 42, Florence, 27th June 2006
Up early sitting on the blessedly cool terrace reading The Photograph by Penelope lively.
Down to the central market after breakfast to buy food – pork and potatoes, lettuce, olives, cherries, bread, red peppers, cucumber and cheese. Good as markets go (English markets set a low bar), but not up to the heights of the bountiful one in Valencia – the meat and fish looked tired. We sat and dipped biscotti in coffee and wrote postcards on the way back.
Lunch in the apartment and a siesta (is there an Italian word for it?). Both woke restless and out of sorts.
Around four o’clock we walked down to the Via Por Santa Maria for an ice cream at Bottega della Gelato: I chose yoghurt flavour, which was certainly different – I should have gone for pistachio or black cherry.
Nina bought lilac gloves of softest leather from a shop with a window filled with rainbow hands.
Early evening we strolled out to the Piazza delle Signoria and watched a mime artist from the Loggia de Lanzi. Beer and Campari (with nuts, olives, potato sticks and bites of sformato (spinach and ricotta flan)) outside a bar. Groups of Spanish and French football fans strolled by with flags and taunted each other with good humoured jibes (Italy go on to win the World Cup in Germany). Indolent David looked down on them disdainfully. Nina had a second Campari, which came with tiny crostini. The bill was 24 euro, I mistakenly tip the waiter 10 euro – it was that kind of day.
Slow walk in autumn heat to the apartment. Late, Nina in bed, all quiet. On the terrace I attempted a haiku inspired by the glove shop: Gloves, chic black and red; / The red, neat knots, tight secrets / Held against the night.