38 - AIFNMS, a review

The streets of the ancient city ring with the echoes of melodious renaissance polyphonies (if this isn't an oxymoron), and the companions wander along regaling each other with a hundred and one Boccaccio-like tales of yesteryear, stories from Derbyshire, anecdotes from the Wye Valley, adventures in Geneva and dreams of Dial Post. In Italy the nights are hot, and the prosecco encourages AIFNMS (alcohol induced false nostalgic memory syndrome). Ah - such evenings as youth is built on. But thunder rumbles, and the deceptive comfort of the cool breeze heralds a night-time storm. The dreamers wake and lurch out into the real world. Tomorrow is now, today has passed.