Idiosyncratic Italian Bureaucracy  

  Every spring I traipse into a thirteenth century castellated building and follow the signs to ‘Tributi’. For many years I climbed up worn stone steps to the second floor, but now they have fitted a slim lift into the stairwell following decades of complaints...

Locked In or Locked Out?

For some time I have been excluded from my own emails, treated as an intruder on my own life, or as a negative alien. Hence my blog silence. This happens the moment I take my notebook away from its home base in Beverley. It starts playing up like a recalcitrant child....