At last, Italy.

Frascati was the Italy I had hoped for but not found in Rome. It is a small town in the hills, at the end of a suburban rail line, 30 minutes from Rome. It has small squares, great restaurants, terracotta roofed houses, and a huge old villa overlooking it all. It is like being back in Dainfern in Jo'burg, but without the electric fences, barbed wire and armed security!

We had intended to do some shopping, but the shops closed at 1.00 pm for a three hour lunch break. Hence instead we took a stroll around town before looking for lunch and for somewhere to watch the crucial Italy vs Slovakia match (crucial in the male sense of the word. I don't think Elspeth would describe it in the same terms).

We found what we had been looking for when we spotted a police car parked outside a small restaurant. Actually the police car should not have been there as it was a pedestrian street, but miraculously the bollards which had been put there to prevent cars going down the street were moved to one side and then put back in place after the car was safely parked.

The restaurant was like a film set from The Sopranos with red checked table cloths, walls lined with wine bottles and a clientele consisting of large families and policemen. We do not speak much Italian and the waiter spoke no English, but we managed to agree that we would take a selection of starters, main courses and desserts. The food was sensational. The pasta was al dente and the sauces were perfect - not too heavy to overwhelm the pasta, but rather complementing the pasta and meat. The wine (Frascati of course) was crisp and chilled, and the desserts were artery clogging. We learned another important piece of Italian dining etiquette when I asked for my coffee to be served with dessert and the waiter almost had a stroke. "Non possible. Must be after dessert".

We watched with interest and increasing amusement as one group of police would leave to be replaced by another. The younger officers looked dashing in their blue uniforms with a scarlet red stripe down the side of the trousers. As the junior officers were succeeded at the tables by more senior colleagues, it became clear that the number of pips on the shoulders had a direct correlation to the strain on the waistband of the trousers. These senior policemen were clearly now relying on mental acuity rather than physical capability to capture their quarry.

We watched the football in Jonathan's Pub, purely for the sake of our brother-in-law. It was such a classy place, it even served Tennents Super. Italy lost 2-3 to Slovakia and deservedly so. There was much emotion in the bar with a rousing rendition of the national anthem, after which initial optimism was replaced by a sense of foreboding as it became clear that the ageing Italian side were struggling to cope with the more youthful Slovaks. When Slovakia went 2-0 up despair turned to anger, then briefly back to hope when Italy scored, and then when Slovakia scored their third, the place just emptied. We are turning out to be World Cup Jonahs. In Serbia we watched Serbia lose to Ghana. In Germany we watched Germany lose to Serbia. In Italy we watched Italy lose to Slovakia. We go to France next, but they do not need our presence in the country to lose their matches. They are doing very well on their own!

v