I have been on the fence about taking the kids to Cinque Terre, renowned for its hiking trails linking intensely coloured villages cascading down craggy cliffs. I didn’t know if I had the stamina to experience this magic against a soundtrack of whinging and arguments. But after our time in Firenze, I realised it couldn’t possibly be worse.
Florence: the not name of my imaginary third child
Ah Florence.
I arrived with magical illusions for this city; the long lost name for my daughter, pipped at the post with Matisse for my first, and then Elspeth second time around. My third daughter will definitely be called Florence, I vowed… until I had a 2 and 3 year old and renewed that vow in the form of a totally different one to never have more children.
Dolomites
A couple of months ago, Karl was doing some research on Italy; a concept that escaped me entirely. He raised the subject of bringing car seats for the kids, noting that the Italian standard was just a booster seat and that whilst that might be acceptable for Matisse, it was 300% illegal by Australian standards. At the time, I was feeling irresponsible and claimed if it was OK for the Italians, it was OK for me.