When I was in my twenties I lived in Rome. Our apartment had a roof terrace, where you were allowed to hang your washing. It was a perfect sun trap, views of the seven hills, and a nice cooling breeze, but we had a very grumpy concierge who would not allow us to sunbathe up there. (It was something to do with the rental contract.) We used to take our washing up then strip off to our bikinis, but she always seemed to catch us! One day I did several loads of washing, sunbathing in-between, and she didn't appear, Emboldened, I took the last load up without putting my clothes on, and gave the door a shove as I left. I'd left the keys inside! As I reached the roof it began to thunder. I had to walk past her cubicle in my bikini, along the busy road by the Tiber to a friend's house, in a bikini and flip flops, with the enraged portiera shouting at me. Fortunately the letting agent saw the funny side.
Is it me or am I getting mixed messages
How do you acknowledge Easter.
Can You Name 5 More Songs? (number 2)
Water Pollution -“ A National Disgrace”? A case for renationalisation?