ITALIAN FOR BEGINNERS

Whew.  Or words to that effect.

The book, after four months of constant thought - well apart from December, I cannot write in December - has left the building.

It felt much, much longer, but that's winter for you.  I'm now getting up to light, there are snowdrops in the hedgerows, crocus and primroses in my garden and suddenly I want to be out there doing stuff.  (A couple of big weeds bought it yesterday afternoon after I'd hit the send button!)

The book is set in Rome.  I had planned a research trip last spring.  To check a few details, walk the streets, remind myself how the place feels and sounds.  The day before we were due to fly everything was grounded because of the ash cloud.  And then I had another deadline and so I've had to rely on memory.  And the pictures from my last trip.  But writing the book has made me more desperate than ever to go back.

It's the story of two generations, two love stories separated by 60 years.  (Me not following the script again.)  I foresee a certain amount of "cutting" in my future but I can only write the book that I can write.  If that makes sense.  I might rewrite it, it might end up very different (that has happened before!), but I'm glad I wrote this one.  Eventually.


Of course the first thing that happens when I hit "send" and the ms is despatched to my lovely editor, is that I immediately start thinking about all the things I should have included.

What the heroine would have been thinking when the black moment hit.  Something she would have taken with her. But that's okay.  I have not the slightest doubt that said editor will have a few thoughts of her own so I'll open a new file, make some notes and then, when the revisions come back, I can include my own.

Anyway, I thought you'd like to see who I've been playing with for the last four months.  So here are Matteo di Serrone and Sarah Gratton.

Sarah's tiny apartment is on the top floor of the yellow house on the left.  And that's her minute terrace, just big enough for two.  And the pot of lemon thyme.

Now I'm going to treat myself to a reading binge.  The best beloved bought me a Kindle for a surprise present last week and I've loaded a Jane Lovering, a Susanna Kearsley and a Michael Dibden.  I've also got a new Kate Hardy to read and I've finally got around to reading Eat, Pray Love (it's paper so it's the bathtime book).

I also need to do something about a book I have to deliver in August.  An idea would be good.

In the meantime I'm supposed to mention that BECOMING THE TYCOON'S BRIDE is now on sale in the US.

PIN UPS, HEROES AND ITALY

One of my loops is attempting to compile a list of the fifty most fanciable men. I am ashamed to admit that I didn't recognise a lot of the names, but the serious drooling that was going on over Richard Armitage sent me to his web page hoping that he might just might prove a lookalike for the hero-in-progress.

He's not a match but I thought I'd post a photograph anyway. Just for you. :)



MORE ITALY

This gate is four thousand years old. It was on the dh's "most want to see" list but he wasn't sure where it was, then on a trip to Castell del Cyclope he turned around and there it was. Magic.

That's him looking v. small beneath it. And the walls, glimpsed behind, were all constructed of blocks of stone that size. Four thousand years ago. On the top of a mountain. Amazing.


This is the view from the castle. That's Arpino on the hilltop below -- we went there last year and thought that was pretty high up. It's where Marius and Cicero were born (and Cicero was murdered for those of you who watched "Rome").









And these are some olives in situ on the tree.


Travelling on the train from Rome to Bari we saw millions of olive trees. And thousands of buffalo, too. And both the Mediterranean and the Adriatic. It took five hours but I really enjoyed it. I'd have enjoyed it a lot more if I'd had a decent book.

This one offers a master-class in how not to write dialogue -- even Victorian dialogue.





AND THANK YOU

Finally a huge thank you to everyone who commented on the branding issue. I was overwhelmed by the wonderful things that you all said -- to be compared to chocolate, words fail me. Or maybe not.

"Liz Fielding -- surprisingly better than chocolate..."

It's not exactly snappy is it? I begin to see why they pay experts six figure sums to come up with this kind of slogan.

THE PANTHEON

Day Three of the Great Italian Adventure

It was, in fact, a half day. Early closing in Rome for the two of us. It started with the hideous job of packing, booking out of out hotel and then we had a couple of hours before we had to leave for the Terminal and the rail journey south. What to do? There was no contest. We weren't leaving Rome without seeing the Pantheon, with it's great dome, that masterpiece in Roman concrete.

The bronze roof was robbed -- the story goes that it was used to make canons by an early pope to defend the Castel San'Angelo -- the marble has gone, apart from a few fragments that cling here and there. When it was new it must have looked liked a huge and glorious wedding cake.



It is still a stunning sight. The thing is, that on the television, you see these great momuments and the camera angles always suggest that they are in vast areas of space. On the contrary. They are all tucked away, hidden, so that you come upon them without warning, an architectural, historical kick in the guts. We passed Trajan's column on the way to the Pantheon, standing in the tiniest little square, surrounded by tall buildings. We didn't stop, there wasn't time and in fact a mould was taken of the column donkeys years ago and a copy -- in rather better condition than the original -- resides in the V&A. So we can take a really close look any time.

The Pantheon is fronted by a charming square. A street cafe where you can sit and just look. There's an obelisk in the centre for the photo opportunity, charming houses, a sign at the side indicating that something important involving a wedding happened in the 14th Century. By then the Pantheon had been standing there for fifteen hundred years.

The reason for its preservation is simple. It was converted from the Pantheon of the gods to a Christian church in the 5th century. It's still in use today, it's niches filled with saints rather than statues of Roman gods.

But forget all that marble. This is it's true glory. The roof.

The dome is half of a perfect sphere. A masterpiece of engineering design that still looks as crisp and new and the day it was finished.

Concrete as art.

Okay, I've been married to an civil engineer for thirty-five years, watched concrete being poured in more countries than I can remember and the enthusiasm tends to be catching. But there were tears in the engineer's eyes as he looked up in wonder.

Honestly.

There was just time for one more visit to our favourite spot in the Piazza del Popolo, time to take this photograph of Bacchus, then it was time to take the train and go south to Matera and the Women's Fiction Festival. The journey took around five hours, speeding through Italy on one of those fabulous tilting trains, with long tantalising view of both the Mediterranean and Adriatic before we arrived at Bari to be met by Matteo.

We arrived after dark at our hotel, deep in the Sassi caves, then stepped out to walk to a nearby restaurant. This was the view. And yes, that pale disk on the left is a great big full moon.

THE GLORY THAT WAS ROME

Day Two of the Great Italian Adventure

We made an early start on day two and since we didn't want to wear ourselves out before we reached the forum, we walked around the corner to the Piazza del Popolo and picked up a cab. The driver dropped us in the perfect spot.

Watching all those programmes about the Romans on the television hadn't been wasted. I immediately spotted Trajan's market -- on the other side of a four lane highway, Augustus's forum was to the left of it. But below us lay the big deal. The glory that was Rome.

Everyone had told me that the forum was "small" and, admittedly, on the television you only see that little bit with stubs of columns. Listen. I've walked around it. It is not small! There's enough there to keep a body captivated for days.

The Curia Julia, the tomb of Romulus, the temple Augustus built in honour of his uncle, the deified Julius Caesar which, following his defeat of Anthony at Acteum, he adorned with the rostra of Anthony's ships.

My photographs don't do it justice but the dh is hors d'combat with a cold picked up on the plane home so his will have to wait until he's feeling better.

This is the arch of Titus. Those of you who enjoy Lindsey Davis's Marcus Didio Falco books will remember him as the irritating son of Vespasian.

We met a charming American couple whilst admiring the Arch. Seeing we had a guide book, they stopped to ask if we spoke English.

A bit, we admitted and paused for a chat; these unexpected meetings of mind are one of the joys of travelling.

We didn't make it up to the Palatine. When they talk about the seven hills of Rome, believe me they aren't joking. That was one hill too many and we'd already worn our legs down to the knees.

We paused to take a look at Vespasian's greatest monument, the Coloseum, which is right next door to the forum. We'd already driven around it twice. There were about a milion visitors swarming around it and despite the fact that the dh's engineering soul longed to look at the gubbins, neither of us was capable of walking another step.

We didn't get to visit the Domus Aurea, either. That's another place that requires an advance appointment to see.

Never mind. Next time.

When Augustus defeated Anthony and Cleopatra, he took possession of the Egyptian treasury (he paid his army for three decades on the spoils and there was so much money in Rome -- all those returning soldiers with ten years pay in their pockets -- that the moneylenders had to reduce their rates from 12 to 4 per cent). He also brought home a few souvenirs. Obelisks seem to have been a favourite. They are everywhere.

After a pause for breath we did make it to an art gallery. It was the wrong art gallery. Worse, once we'd got in there, we couldn't find out way out. I didn't like anything I saw hanging on the walls, but I did like a notice informing visitors "What To Do in an Earthquake". The first instruction was "Do Not Panic".

Fans of "Dad's Army" will understand why I'm still grinning.

Dinner was at a pavement cafe. There is a photograph, taken by a kindly German gent, but it's out of focus. A pity. It's probably the only photograph taken of me in the last two weeks in which I'm not flushed with exertion!