The last time

Sunday, February 14th., Hotel Nettuno, Pisa.

We left Rome this morning.

Yesterday was a lovely day and Dorothy would go out for a drive along the Via Appia Antica. I told her it would tire and upset her, but she wanted to go, and we went. She was correct. The advantages of seeing the Campagna on such a day were obvious. The views were marvellous, especially the skies and other distances. Dorothy said she wanted to see it 'for the last time'. She repeated the phrase several times during the afternoon. Lots of people take a keen pleasure in the supposed sadness of seeing a thing for the last time. In fact I do myself. How many times have I revisited a favourite place, by the sea or out in the country, by myself, and wallowed in the thought that this might be my last time; it enhances the experience I think. And there seem to be no limits on how many 'last times' can be enjoyed!

I find that this year I have written more words than I have spent lire, and as a lire is worth 2d. and my words ought to be worth nearly 2s. each, I should be all right on balance.

We left Rome easily and comfortably for the 11.55 lusso to Paris, and got off the train at Pisa punctually at 5.25. A marvellous, cloudless, sunshiny day, with ditto scenery the whole way and smooth travelling. Descended at the Nettuno at Pisa. The plumbing in these Italian hotels is barbaric. Hot and cold water in each room and private bathroom (140 lire per day the lot), but the water running away out of the basins makes a perfect hades of a row - so much so that they cannot be used at night without waking the person in the next room. And single doors between rooms!

A curious echo

Wednesday, February 17th., Hotel Miramar, Genoa.

Pisa. Duomo in the morning. As Ash Wednesday, service going on. Large audience of choirboys and ecoliers and a few schoolgirls and old people. Many guests of various ranks. The parson began to preach, got up full speed in about twenty seconds, and then never paused or even hesitated for a word for about half an hour. Then he sat down and wiped his face, and then, still sitting, talked to the congregation about a collection. When you were close by he was perfectly audible. twenty yards off you distinctly heard two voices, and still further off you heard three or four voices, a babel of voices, all furiously arguing or wrangling. It was a most curious echo effect.

Hotel Miramar, Genoa

Arrived at Genoa at 6, on time, soon after a stormy sunset. Hotel there far fuller than we had ever seen it before. I finished Macaulay on "The Wars of the Spanish Succession", and began "Pilgrim's Progress", which promises well.