Proceeding Along

 

My legs are tired after the go-karting on Sunday and then three days of continuous walking around first Venice in the cold and now Florence in the not so cold.

I actually proceed in cities, as I want to take it all in.

One of the ushers at our wedding all of those years ago, was a Police Constable and he told me what proceeding was. It's a slow pace, that takes you effortless up the street from place to place, whilst you observe what is going on. Think the titles on the Bill, where the two policeman walk in step to the music.

I think it was the late great Kenneth Williams, who in a comedy sketch as a policeman, said that he was proceeding up the High Street in a northerly direction. He then added that this was difficult because the High Street ran east to west.

But that is what I have been doing. Just wandering and observing without a guide book and in Venice I didn't bother with a map. There are always signs to the Rialto, St. Marks, the Vaporetti or other familiar places, so you can't get lost. And there aren't any nasties in plastic macs, such as haunted Julie Christie in Don't Look Now!

You spot things and smile. Perhaps, you had a nice meal there or perhaps Celia bought some clothes or shoes there. Florence it was always shoes or handbags! But they are always good memories.

Or if they weren't they were funny ones! Perhaps a meal that was so awful, it was good. But I can't remember any of the latter in Venice, although I did get glutened once.

As I proceed I graze. Typically, this will be a cappacino, a water or some ham, tomato, melon or other tasty snack. They are so much tastier here. And so less formal. And always I can be sure of the gluten.

Celia and I used to do this grazing too.

We also used to comment on what people were wearing. Not that in Florence and Venice, it wasn't nearly awlays complimentary. Our family phrase, was "Mutton dressed as mutton", which we both thought terribly obvious and could never understand why it never turned up in comedy except once on Allo, Allo, years after we'd started to use it. Perhaps, I should send it to Nigel Rees on Quote Unquote.

Now, I still observe the ladies. Celia knows I will and told me as much to continue to do so a few weeks before she died. But it's slightly different, as whereas, we'd say that's a nice dress, coat or jumper and Celia would like something like it! Now I tend to think, I want one. And it isn't the clothes.

But then, she told me to move on.

I suppose for myself, it's female company I miss. Most of my friends seem to be women and many are widowed. Those that aren't are very happily married. But you can't have late night cuddles, giggles and jokes to end a day on a high note with someone on the phone.

But still watching the eye candy of an Italian city is some sort of compensation.

In any city, I always find one and Florence has been no exception. Every city has its Original Heidelberg, just like the ones my father had and I used to mind. These venerable machines were the lifeblood of the printing industry until about the 1960s, but like classic literature they refuse to die. The one I found was doing what they do best and continuing to print letterheads and postcards. They are also good at numbering, embosing, scoring and cutting things, which is one of the reasons they still exist. (I remember embarassing the curator and a load of German school-children in the Science Museum in Berlin, by expounding my thoughts and memories of the machines.)

I must go to Heidelberg. After all it is twinned with Cambridge.

This morning I had one of those surprises, that should be less so.

I wanted to go to Santa Croce, as it has the tomb of Galileo, but I was early, so I walked into the centre and passed a museum that I'd not visited before. It is the Museo del Bargello and has the usual art and history well laid out as most museums do in this part of Italy.

But they were cleaning Donatello's statue of David. This is perhaps lifesize and much smaller than the magnificent Michaelangelo, that stands in three places in the city.

But they weren't cleaning it in some hidden away laboratory, they had laid the status down in the gallery and doing it there with solvents and lasers.

Fascinating! Museums should do this more.

Finally, I got to Santa Croce, paid my respects and then wandered into an exhibition of prints by a famous Italian print maker. I didn't write down his name, as I was so excited to see his press.

Not just any proofing press, but one similar to my father's on which I used to print posters for him in the 1950s and 60s. Sadly, this one was undated and I was unable to be sure of the make or age, as no-one was around. But then, my father was proud of his, as it was dated something like 1780, which made it much older than nearly all you find either working or in museums.

Don't laugh, but many small printers have proofing presses that date to the middle eighteen hundreds. Now that was engineering.

I will continue my proceeding, grazing and observing. Perhaps down to Science Museum by the Arno, across the Ponte Vecchio and into the parks on the other side of the river. I'll return by Ferragamo and the duomo.