We had approximately half of the time away under serene blaring hot blue skies, half under some of the worst storms Northern Italy has seen for years. Maltempo indeed. So, erm mixed.

We drove up and down many ace passes and managed to do the two big hikes we couldn’t do last year because of the snow (yes, we had snow last year in the Dolomites in July. Guess what, we had it this year too.) I now have Catinaccio and the Tre Cime hikes done. We even did some bouldering. I ate canederli (dumplings), deer, rabbit, speck, lard, bream, bass and sole. M even ate some meat, get in.

But the mother of all passes, the pass that ‘Top Gear’ made even more famous, the biggie: Stelvio. It was bloody shut. Yes, shut for a whole week to “protect workmen”. We drove to the other side of the region, up to a vertical weeny no horse village in the rain (to a hotel that didn’t have Italian TV despite being in Italy, only German and Austrian) only to find out it was shut. Was a teensy bit pissed off? Yes.

Oh well, there is always another year… We decamped from no horse village and scarpered back to the Lakes and booked in at one of my favourite hotels in Torri and indulged. Cocktails and lounging by the water while lotharios in speedboats tried to pull women half their age. It was good.

I took about 300 pictures and have looked at none of them. Busy y’see.

My laptop died. That was a nice surprise when I got back from Italy. My macbook isn’t even a year old and it was kaput. I got it back today (thank you warranty) and it was the hard drive. So they popped a new one in. Unfortunately I lost all my data. Fortunately clever clogs M backed it up before we went away so I’ve only lost the newest stuff. Bah. Thanks heavens really as I have two lots of wedding photographs to process (again). It could be worse. Apologies for not replying to emails, fakebook etc etc. I know I have heaps to do.

I have also been buying lighting and entertaining workmen. After looking at a hundred seemingly identical modern acrylic chandeliers I’d given up hope of finding something nice. So we bit the bullet and bought antiques ones at ouchy prices but by god they are lovely. They are being rewired at the moment so we should have them next week.

We are totally sticking to the mantra “if we don’t love it it doesn’t cross the threshold” with this flat. We have to absolutely love it to buy it. We’d rather save up or sacrifice on other things than buy something twice. We also are trying to buy all ‘old’. Reuse, reduce, repair and recycle at its finest. The Independent only had an article on it last Thursday. Next on the list is a Georgian-a-like ladies battered writing desk for the macs.

I discovered today a brand new shop near me on Blatchington Road in Hove (near ‘Ethels Kitchen’) that I have totally fallen for. It’s a little shop that sells beautifully girlie secondhand china, unusual stationery and handprinted bags and homewears called ‘Bird & Rose’. It’s run by a lovely lady called Sophie. I came a cropper in there today… some of my haul below:

I can now make a very posh afternoon tea in a Jane Austen stylee if anyone pops down from London.

We’ve had plumbers, electricians and carpenters ’round nearly every day to quote for the grand project. The local plumbers are ace and we’ve already been entertained by Jeremy the project manager and Richard the chap who installed the washing machine and dishwasher (thus bringing us into the 21st century.) If the guy who comes tomorrow to install the boiler is called James I shall laugh my head off. They managed to fit us in at short notice for the boiler refit due to a cancellation. I am very happy as it means from Friday I can have a shower without it being hot-tepid-cold-hot-tepid-cold all the sodding time.

We’re also looking at wallpaper and old school chunky style radiators to replace the hideous 70s ones we have currently. For the vaguely interested here is the wallpaper we’ve chosen:

I never thought I’d have wallpaper in any house I lived in. Just goes to show how you change.

Ooh that looks a bit steep doesn’t it? (Sadly, we won’t be doing it in a Lamborghini Gallardo Superleggera ala ‘Top Gear’.)

See you on the other side.

Thursday night to celebrate our finally moving out of the flat of doom we went to ‘No Name Restaurant‘ on St. James’s Street. I had what M described as ‘meaty artic roll’ for my starter; a roulade of rabbit, cranberries and duck. For main course we both had local black bream roasted with new potatoes slathered in butter with herbs and watercress. I couldn’t manage a dessert but felt throughly sated without.

On Saturday morning on our way out to buy coffee we were pressed with leaflets by people protesting about Starbucks opening in Kemp Town apparently without planning permission. Turning away from the easy – but let’s face it dull and watery – option of a caffinated beverage we found two more corking places nearby. ‘The Beanstalk’ is on (the horrid faceless) North Street but is full of lovely vegan crusties saying that wifi is dangerous. Result: a lovely strong breakfast latte in a large biodegrable cup for £1. Suck on that Starbucks. We also stumbled on The Tea Cosy tea rooms on George Street. I don’t know whether to be pleased or scared reading their website but I really want to go back for:

Lady Diana Spencer, Princess of Wales, Queen of Hearts, 10 year Anniversary, Forever In Our Thoughts, Memorial Afternoon Tea

Selection of freshly cut cakes, fruit scones, cream, jam, butter, a round of smoked salmon and cream cheese, Ham and mustard, egg and water cress sandwiches (crusts removed) Cold potato salad, olives, fruit, biscuits, minimum 2 persons ordering required, includes a pot of traditional English breakfast tea with unlimited refills. £8 per head, minimum 2 people ordering required.

Born a Princess, Died a Queen

I can think of just the person who’d enjoy that.

For lunch, after a stroll across town to Hove, we went to ‘i gigi’. ‘i gigi’ is the kind of place that makes me want to join the WI and learn how to cover screens. I could buy all their lovely handblown glasses and linen tablecloths. The staff in the café are so lovely and we got some free squidgy mini brownies for having to wait. After a restorative pot of ceylon M had falafels, hot pittas, chilli jam and herby hummous while I had some crusty pain de compagne toasted with butter and homemade chicken liver paté piled high on top. I had one of the best salads ever to accompany it – sundried cherry tomotoes, watercress, lambs lettuce and sunflower seeds doused in balsamic vingegar, oil and yoghurt. I got through two of the massive wedges of toast and paté before admitting defeat. The waitress was most apologetic that she’d given me too much. Again as I’m a savoury girl I eschewed the sinful cake selection (under darling bell jars) while M had a crispy golden treacle tart.

Sunday of course means a roast.

Our search for roast perfection took us back to Hove. We’d read about the ‘The Forager‘ pub and wanted to try its fabled roast for ourselves. However, Fathers Day put paid to that so we vowed to book next time and instead hightailed it to our nearby favourite pub: ‘The Westbourne’. I found ‘The Westbourne’ (or ‘The Winchester’ as M likes to call it) after a miserable wet house hunt in March and we’ve been back several times. Nice people, a chilled atmosphere and loads of cool secondhand furniture you want to nick. The food’s not bad too. I had the roast organic chicken and all the trimmings and M had the veggie nut roast. My only complaint was that the gravy was too thin and swamped everything. Why do all pubs make gravy too thin? I love my gravy me; yes thick.

On the way back to the bus (the number 7 goes everywhere a girl could want) we walked past a place I’d noticed before on Blatchington Street, ‘Ethels Kitchen’. I thought it was ‘just’ a tearoom (I heart tearooms) but it seemed to do Sunday roasts too. The menu looked fab and M and I planned our next Sunday lunch at ‘Ethels’. What really sealed the deal was the wallpaper – Cole & Son black cow parsley.

Last night I made proper rice pudding with a nutmeg skin and all and attempted to recreate the perfect ‘i gigi’ salad using pine nuts instead of pumpkin seeds to accompany our fat golden somerset brie. We washed the lot down with a bottle of rosé in front of the footy. A perfect night in.

Tonight I’m meeting M from work and we’re going to walk home together through Kemp Town via the lovely co-op on our street corner. I’m going to buy some of their ‘Truly Irresistible’ range organic biscuits, go me.

I’ve tackled a paltry tenth of my holiday photos, the rest are sitting accusingly in photoshop awaiting their turn. I am a bad camera mamma.

But for your immediate attention possibly the best museum in the world, the best day out you might ever have*. When we arrived in Dobbiaco in the Alta Pusteria I wasn’t expecting such a delight. Dobbiaco (or Toblach) is in the German speaking part of Trentino Alto Adige formerly called the Sud Tirol by it’s Austrian inhabitants. Speaking not one word of German I was relying on M to do the talking if anyone cared to engage me in the COOP in anything but Italian.

Dobbiaco is full of quiet amusements not least the Mahler fortnight and The World of Milk museum. Yes, the World of Milk which incidentally is very big on its cheese products.

Upon finding a leaflet in our hotel room to such a jewel I was possessed by the urge to go. Sadly time prevented it as next day we were due to hike up the Tre Cime (Dre Zinnen for the German speakers).

Y’know I think it is almost worth booking a return trip.

*Not for the lactose intolerant.

I’m listening to the iTunes playlist we took with us as we drove up and down some of the Dolomites hair-raising roads, I wish I was back there *sniff* We had the most bonkers weather too for a July in Italy: 35 degree heatwave, snow, driving hail the size of axe heads… sometimes within hours of each other. Global warming eh?

Anyway, here’s one completed, 657250262374 to go:

There’ll be more to come on my Flickr later.

I wish I had a plate of canerdeli and deer right now.

A special thank you goes out to Miss Sith who’s card I got when I arrived back home – the most perfect card a girl could wish for – I love you K!

I’ve shot all my films for my project now; tomorrow I go into the darkroom for a few solid days printing… I hope my lecturers like them. This term has been the most whirlwindy thing I could have imagined – two projects back to back and a bushel of essays.

I got my first project results today, the landscape one… a first (71%) woot! There is no way I am keeping this up though.

I’m uploading some digital scans of my latest project on my Flickr if you fancy a peek.

Back to the workbook.

Beforehand, as we had some time to kill, we wandered up to the National Theatre on South Bank and partook of their ‘Watch this Space’ summer festival – over 100 free riverside events from 7 July to 2 September. The fake grass and scattered deckchairs outside the building along with a barbeque and a soundtrack of Abba, Judy Garland and Steps made for a gay beach atmosphere. It was heaving and fabulous, I didn’t want to leave.

At the IMAX we got middle middle seats and those huge polarised glasses. Sadly they are all plastic these days and you have to hand them back (rotters).

I’d not been to an IMAX since 1996 in Vancouver and had forgotten just how near and in your face it seems. We had a little talk beforehand about “if you feel overwhelmed just shut your eyes for a second as when you open them again the scene would have changed.” The crowd laughed at that one but I suspect a few people were feeling overwhelmed by the finish. Oh, and we even had a member of the auidence in full Superman outfit. Sadly he wasn’t as impressive as Brandon Routh.

So the movie. I know it has received disappointing reviews in the US. But dang it all I’m a geek (target audience for Mr Singer) and I loved it. Hell, I loved it from the end of the amazing retro title sequence. Two and a half hours didn’t feel a minute too long to me. Brandon Routh is a stunning Superman both phyically and emotionally and I admit to a tear in my eye at times. He just chanels the young Christopher Reeve. Reeve was always my Superman, the Superman I first saw as a small child and firmly entrenched as ‘Canon Superman’ in my mind. I sneer at Dean Caine and Tom Welling! I was prepared to hate Brandon Routh just because he wasn’t ‘my’ Superman but I loved him.

A word to the guys here. Every woman in the cinema fell deeply in lust with Mr Routh. He is a fucking greek god up there in tights. A five flipping storey high god in the IMAX version. Do not blame your wives or girlfriends for it. He certainly didn’t need heat vision to have me smouldering.

The flying sequences are just ‘right’, even beautiful. He feels as if he has mass and weight and properly occupies the space he is in. The action sequences were the ones in 3D and the 3D cape fluttering is a delight.

I really don’t know what reviewers were expecting. You won’t get Chekhov from Bryan Singer. However, as a ‘thoughtful’ action movie it hit all the spots for me. Some people I’ve heard complain at there not being enough action sequences but it was perfectly judged to me. Kevin Spacey made an excellent Luthor and was (an update for the ’00′s perhaps?) much more menacing, revengeful and violent than Gene Hackman was before him. I felt due respect was given to Canon in all but one area.

My gripe was Kate Bosworth as Lois Lane. She felt flat. She didn’t have the ballsy attitude I felt Lois should have. Margot Kidder as Lois Lane is a heroine of mine along with Carrie Fisher as Princess Leia. Those two women were strong characters in otherwise male dominated films from my childhood. Hell, if you see my LJ and Flickr accounts you will know exactly who I have set as my default icon. I heart Margot.

Kate Bosworth had a lot to live up to. As much as Brandon Routh did – she, sadly, disappointed. No one but no one can do Lois Lane’s voice like Margot Kidder.

Bubb and I were singing the Superman theme all the way home last night and giggling like 15 year olds. A great night out.

We rounded the night off by going back to the National Theatre and getting up on the roof. Every Friday and Saturday between now and 2 September there are DJ’s and late openings for an event called ‘Bring and Share at the Late Lounge’ which is free. The roof again was packed with everyone glued to the concrete tower where ‘Addictive TV’ were projecting massive films on to the side of the building and pumping out a great dance track. It was fantastic standing up there – Ibiza on Thames – totally warm in the open air and enveloped in music. What a great way to spend a Summer night.

I’m liking this old camera lark.

The first of my Lubitel scans from Italy. Orvieto’s duomo at night. The first time I’ve used a ‘toy’ camera – or indeed a twin lens reflex – on a tripod too. I guestimated the exposure as it was set on ‘B’ and I held the shutter release cable in for 30 secs.

Only 300 years, 33 architects, 152 sculptors, 68 painters and 90 mosaicists in the making.

I was looking around the Università degli Studi di Siena in 2000 and I thought “I could love this place.” I signed up promptly on the dotted line and bought – as is my habit when moving somewhere new – a local road map: ‘Siena: Carta Stradale della Provincia’ scale 1:150,000.

This map had been used, abused, torn, sellotaped back together, highlighted in yellow and folded upon fold many many times. I loved that map. With it I’ve cycled and driven along back roads that don’t even warrant a name, even on the map that knows all things. Good times.

This year my map to the beautiful road fell apart. Time to buy a brand spanking new one of same – they have an ‘edizione digitale’ now. It seemed appropriate to buy it in the same bookshop as before, the ‘Libreria Senese’, Via di Cittá 62.

When staying in Siena parking is a nightmare. Well, trying to park close to the wall, or just inside the walls and not having to pay or move your car after an hour. My recommendation is stay on the east side of the city around the Porta Montanina or the Porta Camollia within the orbit of the Coop, the station, Due Ponti and roads out of Siena to the Crete Senesi. The western approach to Siena around the new extra ringroad and the convoluted mess near Porta San Marco is to be avoided if you want to keep your sanity.

Finally, the Via N. Bixio is a bloody godsend if you are ever stuck in parking extremitis.

A few days with the map of all things and you are set. To find the beautiful road (and others of similar merit) you first need to be ‘furbo’. Like the knights of the grail quest – even with the map in hand – to find the beginning of the beautiful road is no easy task. There will be trials and false roads. There will be tempting signs. Ignore all of those and remain true.

The SS2 is the main road out of Siena to Le Crete and the wine towns of Montalcino and Montepulciano. It is very pretty between Montalcino and Pienza with the famed church of Chiesa di Santa Maria di Vitaleta (a UNESCO world heritage site) hovering tantalisingly on the horizon. But, don’t take that road. Head with gay abdandon towards the autostrada E1/A1. Ignore the rational reasoning that the E1 is a bloody big road. After getting on the beginning of the 73 leading eventually to the E1 do not be swayed by the seductive turn off to the 223 (leading in part back to the SS2 via Cassia) to Grosseto. Nope, just head on through ’til you you are just about to get on to the entrance ramp of the big old 73.

And lo, there like a mirage is a tiny slip road to the right, amidst a great upheaval of roadworks on the 73/326 and SS2. You think it can’t possibly be your road. It’s signposted Arbia and Asciano. Dive out of the traffic here heading to Arezzo, Sinalunga and Rome and take that mysterious little slip road for it is the beginning of the beautiful road. At Asciano turn towards Saltafabbro to the Abbazia di Monte Oliveto Maggiore. Here the most beautiful picnics can be taken.

Marvels really await.

There is also the cross country road from Monteroni d’Arbia on the SS2 to Asciano through Campagna that is hilly, wooded and stunning. It’s a paved road but it has no name on the map of all things. The strada bianca just outside Radda in Chianti at Villa to Albola through the vineyards of Il Poggerino is truely vertical. You feel a mule would be more suitable. The road from Buonconvento on the SS2 through the Murlo villages back to the 223 is deserted and quietly beautiful.

The road above the sublime Cistercian Abbazia San Antimo (where we listened to the white robed French brothers sing in Gregorian chant) from Castelnuovo dell’Abate to the 323 (to Bagno Vignoni) is the monster twister of switchbacks and hairpins winding down to the valley floor then back up again over the outlying ridges of Monte Amiata. It’s stunning and treacherous. One time we found a Fiat 500 that had slid off one of the top bends and into a field in a sudden Summer rain storm. An elderly lady looked on quite bemused as four strapping lads on their way home from football training were calming manhandling her car and carrying it back to the road.

One time there were sheep as well.

The back road (another strada bianca) from Monticchiello to Montepulciano is again beautiful, nary a signpost mind, but followable and deserted. This year I noticed a new sign at the Montepulciano end (a yellow sign) via the Colle al Vento. We’d spotted the road from a distance the day before – then closed – being used to shoot a car commercial. A helicopter was weaving madly above it, flattening the green wheat widly. Four times a sports car wove around the hairpin bends down the hill and back up, frammed – very flatteringly – by roadside lines of dead straight cipressi. The pilot sometimes flew side-on to get the best shot. It made me feel sick just watching it. Driving it the next day it was impossible to photograph from the ground. I’m sure it made a great ‘macho’ commercial though; me, I felt sick after just two circuits.

The point of my ramblings: maps are so much more than paper.