The last post about England discovering Russia and Britannia ruling the world made me remember my last European Holiday and how the English are not everyone’s favourite nation.

My beautiful sister-in-law and I were let loose on Paris, Rome and Venice (!)

We began in Paris and got mugged outside the Louvre on the first day. The next two days were spent in Police Station and British Consulate. Money, passports stolen.

We get issued emergency passports (a lovely gold colour) and carried on to Rome.

 

After a couple of hours in the Colosseum, we sit on the concrete outside chatting, with an ice cold beer, when one of the Colosseum guards came up.

“Are you English?” says he.

Now I’m half English, half Scottish. She is half English half Welsh.

“Yes,” says I, without thinking

Dirty look.

“You too?” Mr Guard asks her.

“No,” she replied. “I’m Welsh.” (Bloody Smarty pants)

They two had a lovely conversation. I admired the view – some young Italian men dressed as Centurions :o)

 

Next came Venice and an evening meal.

“Ah. You are English?” says the waiter.

I keep my mouth shut. She says “Yes.”

“You know that Italia are playing England at football tonight?” he asks.

Yup. We knew. Ordered risotto twice and chatted away together.

Waiter and Risotto arrive. I have no idea how they did it but the rice was striped green, white, red.

“Very funny'” says I.

Later. Waiter recommends ice cream for dessert and brings out a dish of basil, vanilla, strawberry ice cream.

 

If I’m ever asked the ‘Are you English?’ question again, I’m going to say NO. I’m Tartarian.

That’ll stop ’em.

;o)