My blogging intentions were of the best – earlier today, when it seemed like all was well in hand in preparing to fly to Rome this evening. Lots of time to sort out and organize what needed to be sorted out and organized, take the dogs for two walks, go to get milk for the dog sitter in case he wanted some for his breakfast coffee, watch (second time round) the final devastatingly sad and powerful episode of Breaking Bad which I’d saved for the occasion, and also write a thoughtful little blog about an interesting benchmark tasting of some top local red blends which I had attended at Klein Constantia earlier this week.
Well, it was all done, in a bit more of a hurry than I’d planned, except for the thoughtful little blog, which must wait. I certainly don’t have the emotional energy to write it now, as I sit at Cape Town airport waiting for my flight, though I’m unfashionably, not to mention unnecessarily, early. Perhaps I’ll get down to writing it in Rome.
I’m slightly embarrassed to admit that this is a trip to Europe without real wine intentions. Oh, I do intend to drink plenty of the stuff (and I’ve even packed a nice Spiegelau glass, as I doubt if the flat I’ve rented will run to anything decent in the stemware line), but I won’t be visiting wineries or vineyards. No doubt this is shocking, but still.
Instead, I’m planning on finding out a great deal more about the great Baroque architect and sculptor Bernini, and the other equally great Baroque architect, Borromini. And I shall do a lot of walking, and eating and drinking and reading, and perhaps even thinking. All in wonderful Rome.
Trouble is, I’m missing my dogs already.