Alatri

I spent the Saturday morning catching up on e-mail, and labelling the photographs I'd taken up the hill. It wasn't until late afternoon that J dragged me away on a road trip. We visited a hill-top town called Alatri that had a magnificent acropolis on its top dating from pre-Roman times. It was constructed from rather large blocks of stone and was some feat of engineering. The views were magnificent and by coincidence were of country that the 18th Regt had helped the Indians to clear of Germans back in '44. K's dad had been a part of that, as a signals man. The view over the town took in the old buildings with their terracotta roofs, church campaniles, clock towers and so on, and then behind them you could see other villages across the valley and even further up in the mountains. Very picturesque, and typically Italian.

I can't let the entry finish without mentioning Frosinone. Last time I passed through Frosinone my mother heard a stream of invective unmatched in that trip. Italians don't know how to sign-post and Frosinone is the nadir of their competence. A major road, the Via Cassalini, or SS6 peters out completely and starts again somewhere on the other side of town. Meanwhile travellers are left to guess which is the correct direction to go to join the two ends. As in 2004, this time twice. We lost the road to Alatri which occassioned great swearing, and on the way back we lost the way back to Cassino. J had to drive I was so steamed, and now she winds me up about it something wicked. (Whatever she says don't believe her - she's a liar. 8-)) F^%$#ing Italian signposters. The best part was the attempt to do a quick U-turn in a side lane only to unluckily find it one way the other way, and by some freakishly unfortunate coincidence have two cars coming up it at that very moment. Quick manouevre ended up being a study in confusion.