Here I am outside the national stadium, which I visited by accident on a quest to see the Foro Italico which I was was reliably informed was a bastion of Mussolinianism. I was not disappointed. It is very hot here but then we do keep going out around 11am so I suppose we have only ourselves to blame.
The hotel is exceptionally fancy; this morning Jeremy Clarkson and Richard Hammond were planning what appeared to be a trip to Argentina over coffee in the breakfast restaurant, and as I write a waitress is pouring mint tea from a silver teapot as I recline by an 18th century tapestry. There must be three blog posts in this hotel alone, let alone the rest of the holiday.
Tomorrow we're off to our private Tuscan villa; I don't know how I will cope with not being waited on hand and foot but we will at least have a private pool. Maybe there will be some more blogging from there; I am spending a lot of time reading and napping though, so maybe not.
Happy August!
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