What has helped your Shed Fever?

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Nothing has helped my shed fever.

Here am I, in Rome, enjoying a weekend watching Scotland beating Italy.

[Being an Englishman, I supported Italy, of course. Sitting in a huge stand, full of big hairy scots men (and women), wearing Italian jacket, scarf and beanie, singing the Italian national anthem with gusto, can be a thrilling, if lonely experience, I trow.]


Strange little hotel - the Mf Hotel, on 3rd floor of a block of apartments on Via Savoia.
(This is not a recommendation, by the way!)


Anyhow, we've had a day site seeing, and just left the Castel S. Angelo, when it started persisting down. Everybody dashed for taxis - and we were lucky to get into one, being able to run faster than little old ladies on pilgrimage.

Got into the taxi - but could I remember the address of the hotel?
(Clearly not, or I wouldn't be telling this tale.)

Then inspiration dawned: "Number 44, Via...., Via......

....Via Varroa!" I said, triumphantly!


Ah well. Matron was there, to take me in hand, quietly.



Dusty
 
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Got into the taxi - but could I remember the address of the hotel?
(Clearly not, or I wouldn't be telling this tale.)

Then inspiration dawned: "Number 44, Via...., Via......

....Via Varroa!" I said, triumphantly!

.

Ah well - last time we were there, we were enjoying our last night in Rome at our favourite restaurant in Campo deFiori and got dragged in to the celebrations of the anniversary of the unification of Italy (not only was that pure chance but so was the fact the weekend before we sat in a bar not only watching Italy give France a good drubbing at home, but Wales beat Ireland) after a surfeit of industrial strength Peroni with the locals, time came to get a taxi back to the hotel - not only had we both forgotten the hotel name, but any smattering of Italian we had and the driver was monoglot - I managed to direct him back to our hotel in Latin!!
We had a very nice hotel last week - only ten,fifteen minutes walk to the stadium if we'd wanted to go there and convenient for everything.
anyway, got my get out of purgatory free card safe now and I put in a good word for you Dusty - there should be a warm welcome for you - I believe they've been stacking up the old orange boxes in Campo de Fiori since last week :D
 
Got into the taxi - but could I remember the address of the hotel?
(Clearly not, or I wouldn't be telling this tale.)

Then inspiration dawned: "Number 44, Via...., Via......

....Via Varroa!" I said, triumphantly!


Ah well. Matron was there, to take me in hand, quietly.



Dusty
I went to a lurcher and terrier show in south wales many moons ago, near Abergavenny, i parked the caravan in a friend of a friends pub car park and of we went on foot too a barn dance wedding about 1 mile away, as the drinks flowed i slowly became pished and decided to leave when the welsh folk started fighting with french loafs fencing each other and throwing uncut loafs of bread about, at this point i even put my coat on inside out and walked head first into a dry stone wall which produced a nice egg sized lump on my fore head.
As far as phoning a taxi went the fact that i did not know any taxi firm numbers went straight out the window , i did not know where i was at and i did not know where i was going, everyone i asked help from give me a distant look and ignored me, anyway after staggering about in the dark for around half a mile of country lanes i bumped into two Nuns who quickly came to my aid and each one took a hand each to steady me,:spy: after i explained where i was from and why i was here they asked me where i was staying, i told them in a pub car park over there somewhere and they knew straight away where to take me, Bless the two of them they took me straight to the place and i got a kiss on each cheek from the two of them before saying goodbye.
 
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Well it dose get worse than shed fever...... Beekepers Back has relegated me to the chair with copious :chillpill: Tramadol... Bored now, because i have finally fished Ted Hooper!
 

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