"Sympatico"

FOR THE first day of our holiday we are experiencing a day of rain.

Rain in the morning. Rain in the afternoon.

And I, for one, am not entirely sorry.

My Good Lady has already told of our trip to Sorrento and the Amalfi Coast yesterday. She politely failed to mention my collision with a bus!

All right, not a collision exactly, more just a scrape. Enough to put a dint in our hire-car, though. Another one!

Just hope our insurance covers it.

Anyhow, a quiet day today. A time for the old nerves to get themselves settled.

We more or less lock ourselves away in our hotel room today and watch as the rain falls and we can get back to the business of reading our holiday books.

The rain eases off this evening and we venture out to our favourite restaurant. It's our fifth visit, and we're almost becoming part of the family there.

Our regular waiter, Mario, greets us like long, lost cousins, steers us away from the crudité on the menu with a very expressive gesture, and generally guides us through our choice of food with, as we would put it, a nod and a wink.

The point I'm getting at here, is how surprisingly well we get on with restaurant staff - we, who have little knowledge of the language, and yet who are, in their word, sympatico.

I have to say, I really like the Italians. Except as drivers (who are all insane) I love their warmth and friendliness and hosptiality. If only we spoke their language more fluently, I'm sure we'd be invited back here by some of the people we've met.