Arts round up October 2015

Arts round up Oct 2015

Why has so little been said this autumn by this (post) august body of thinkers ? We dont spend all our time in bed - honest.

Well, there has been so little to enthuse about. The art shows Ive been to have been lamentable. Frank Auerbach is the greatest living British artist Waldemar Januszach told us in the Sunday Times. Really? Is that all we are left with in this post Freud and Bacon age? How about Hockney? Goldsworthy? Hurst and the other YBAs still creating. Mat Collishaw, Jeremy Dellar, how about Banksy? I didn't make it to Dismaland- Banksys super art theme park in Weston-Super-Mare, but everything I heard was positive and generous. He really is the real deal, not interested in fame and fortune, you never see him in his artistic output. Sarah Lucas take note ; maybe you arent as interesting and your weedy attempts to embarrass men are just feeble and pathetic, not oh so clever like I think you want us to think.
Auerbach at the Tate - so disappointing. Theres not one piece Id really want to own and cherish. What a paucity of ideas. What shall I paint today?
Lessee...oh, the view from the studio in Mornington Crescent ! What, again? Yes , again! If its good enough for Monet, its good enough for me. Plus I cant think of anything else. The early years included a piece that was so thickly plastered with paint, it was a wonder it hadnt all dripped in a long spaghetti like dollop. From afar this one of three figures in a garden was actually quite mesmerising, it has a ghostly quality that amazed me. So I am being harsh, but the later, badly mixed and roughly applied lines that were the "To the studio" series were just boring and low in quality.

The other show at the Tate Modern was  The World Goes Pop. Having paid - well if i wasnt a member - £15 or more, I wouldn't have been happy to see room after room of distinctly 2nd rate efforts by artists from around the world I had never heard of. Where were the Lichtensteins and Warhols I asked? "The idea wasn't to show the famous Americans, but show how Pop was created by artists from other parts of the globe" I was told at the info desk. Well OK, fine. But dont charge mega bucks as if the place was packed with dollar bills, Marilyns and Elvises. It just struck me as disingenuous and not worthy of my favourite art institution.
The best entertainment has been provided by the fabulous BBC radio channels 4, 4extra and 3, yet again. The series of plays, essays and documentaries commemorating Arthur Miller's birth has been a real treat and education. I have heard Death of a Salesman and View From the Bridge with David Suchet and Zoe Wanamaker having a great time with some of the best writing of the post war era. Howard Pinter's The Caretaker with David Warner was equally gripping, but I could not get to the end and stopped listening at a apposite time. Now a minor winge - BBC iplayer is quite hard to navigate, and now I cant find it again !
TV - now the remarkable Shane Meadows series This is England has finished, there is little left. Narcos is great on Netflix, but Homeland really is getting  dafter and dafter. I have a feeling it will end up like Lost, flogging the dead horse while no-one is watching.

Angus McGill - one of the Fleet st old school

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Dancing Thru the Blitz - When Paula Yates saw Lucy Worsley with Jools Holland

The Scene - Gods waiting room - Jools Holland has gone behind the red drapes and met the short man speaking in tongues - a la Twin Peaks...
"Whoooot refru fang yaaan tu ...."
"Um , I'm here to see Paula , she sent for me " says Jools.
"Ooo Kay...go ..." he points onward.
Jools enters a grand room, all huge Ming vases , fancy flock wallpaper and gold trimmed mirrors. A huge bed is centre stage, with Paula, in her finest peroxide blonde era, knee length taffeta gown and Loboutin heels , propped up in the middle by a mound of duck down pillows.
" Jooools " she shreeks, delight and fun pitched high into the rooms spaces. " How lovely to see you again ".
"Paula, its great to see you and everything, but its not my time yet...is it ..."
"Whaaat, no, just think of yourself as a visitor, my friends will show you out. Now, come and sit down, i need to have a teensy word in you ear..."
"OK Paula, "
"Now," she pats the bed in the space between them, coquetish looks and fluttering eyelashes ensue. Suddenly her face transforms into a rage ...
" What are you doing in the same programme as that dreadful, horrid, boring, ugly style-free bell-end i saw on tele last night?"
" Err, you mean Lucy?"
"Yes, I never thought you, style icon and cool chappy on my fave ever programme - The Tube---along with me of course"...cool, flirty Paula returns for an instant..."would ever lower yourself to share screen time with such a hopeless, attention seeking, useless uber UNCOOL lemon as her! How many times can a woman disgrace our sex on TV? She even gets herself doubled up, like a nitemare reflection in the ugly mirror !"
"Paula, things have changed ...."
"I'll say ! Who does she think she is, me? Who was who said I was the thinking man's goddess of the airwaves? "
"Um, was it you ? "
"Jools, you always are so naughty " she giggles. "Every time I turn to the egghead channels, there she is. And every series she puts herself in dead centre. If its about olden times homes, bedrooms and W/Cs, there she is, lying on a four poster or sitting on the hole in the castle wall, knickers round her ankles, acting out a dump as performed by Anne Boleyn in 1456....or whenever it was."
"I think your dates are a bit mixed up, Paula"
"Well at least I had a few dates. I seduced more rockstars on live TV than she has had Tinder matches. And I bet they are balding men who have had a freedom pass for years. My men were the right side of 35 and they were hot !"
"Lucy is alright."
 "She is the saddest sack of spuds Ive seen since Muriel Gray tried to win the egg n spoon race at Pixeys sports day in 85. Now go back, quit immediately , and Jools, spare us your singing while youre about it ! Foxes on heat are more tuneful than youre sorry efforts !"
"OK Paula, you re the boss !"
"Yes I am, and try to hang out with Cara Delevigne and Katey Moss, not some hopeless case from the swots class! Now go , and dont darken my door for 20 years, or I will set Bob on you !"
"OK Paula. Bye Paula."
Exit Jools, fade to red.

True Detective Season 2 Review - with Spoilers 
Nic Pizzolatto - where did it all go wrong?

Having written in defense of the much derided second series of True Detective, I feel like Ive got egg on my face. I argued the fantastic first series had earned our respect and time, hoping it all would be worth it. The 90 minute denoument did not deliver in so many ways.
Colin Farrell as the main male character, conflicted, self loathing bent cop Ray, he seems to be all about his ginger haired, podgy and uninterested 10 year old son. Having survived so many shoot outs, and with freedom, the girl and the money a 30 minute drive to the port away, he puts it all in peril just to take a last look at the boy, in the playground at school. You know, as he pulls off the freeway, that this is a fatally bad move. Sure enough, he returns to the car to see a transponder's red light flashing under the door, and petrol all over the road. Why then does he get in and press on ? Are all his options now used up ? I guess so. But why do it in the first place? This has not been Colin Farrell's finest hour - he has been OK in "In Bruges" and Terence Mallicks tale of Indians and white men trying to come to terms with each other, "The New World". You cant blame him for signing up to follow in Matthew McConaugheys footsteps. His role as Rust in series 1, along with the fabulous Dallas Buyers Club, redefined his career. How to go from lame romcom crumpet to serious, charisma zone central, look at those two roles. It has not worked that way for Farrell.
Nor has it worked for Vince Vaughn. Stuck in career limbo land like MM had been, he may have hoped this role as gangster number 1 Frank, would relaunch him as a cool actor. Afraid not. The character was an anachronism; a stuffed shirt macho man of suits and ties, trophy girlfriend and must win every showdown - never back down values. The thing is, he is operating in the new world of internet crime, Mexican desperadoes and Russian money. If you want a 2015 version of a crime lord, just look at Gus in Breaking Bad. That is original. Frank's comeuppance is so predictable, but the way he refuses to take his suit off and gets stabbed and left to die in the desert, seems so unnecessary. Give the man the suit and walk away . Its worth backing down to have your life spared. His denoument is nearly as painfully drawn out as his parting with his girlfriend , played by Kelly Reilly.
"Just go, I will see you in two weeks..." he tells her.
"No, I wont leave you". It goes on and on. Kelly Reilly - one question; what made you take such a lame duck role ? You have gone down in Hollywood's list of powerplayers and desirable actors to sign up, like Vaughn.

Rachel Mcadams was the star of the show as Ani. The finale seemed to side line her from the action. Someone needed to tell writer Pizzolatto to give her more to do. She could have gone and found out what happened to the missing kids and diamonds. Instead she twiddled her thumbs in a motel room while the two remaining male protagonists tried to take on the bad guys on their own. The last episode had ended so stunningly with the really bad cop shooting our new hero, as played by Taylor Kitsch, in the back. "No !" we cried. But the finale, with the twists of the plot so often resolved by someone telling someone else what had happened, never reached these heights of audience involvement.
If you have run out of money, time or inspiration, cut it short. I still hope we get a series 3, but keep it simple, stupid. This take on California noir added so little that was new to the genre. Chinatown and LA Confidential did it so much better, not to mention the daddies of the genre; The Maltese Falcon and The Long Goodbye. Chandler or Hammet you are not, Mr Pizzolato. Be yourself, but better.

True Detective Series 2 - Tension? Look no further HBO own it ! Also In Our Time - St Melvyn of Bragton deserves the recent TV retrospective, Audiobooks - Branagh and Tennant excel in Life and Fate, but does it make the bench marked by Jonathon Aris fabulous reading of A Thousand Autumns of Jacob de Zoet - David Mitchells's terrifying novel about trade with 18th c Japan  28-07-15

Its increasingly in vogue to announce to any group discussing anything that was on last night that the TV has been jettisoned. I dont know if thats so they dont have to pay the licence fee, or just watch what they want via Netflix or any other pc based platform. I am also unsure if this means they still have access to the latest HBO offerings on Sky Atlantic, which is becoming the only real reason i bother with all this expense. You can most assuredly get all the quality BBC tv and radio output on IPlayer. It makes sense, you watch when you want to, you dont need to wait a week for the next episode if you time it right. The latest 60s set spy thriller The Game was only 6 episodes in total so the complications of the early episodes timing out, as they did during Game of Thrones, doesnt occur.
Theres another group going around making self satisfied announcements at the water cooler who need to wipe the smug expression from their minds asap. The "Im not watching the new True Detective series" lot. Oh, how wrong can you be, you poor fools. You have just missed two of the best action sequences staged for TV since Walt and Jessie looked like gonners at the Mexican pool (BBad). First there was an almighty shoot out between protagonists and bad guys in S2 E4, then an edge of the pants getaway from a high class orgy in a secluded mansion - S2 E6. The protagonists are awful you say. The story is completely unfathomable you say. I cant get passed Colin Farrells eyebrows you say. Well, you should try for 3 reasons;

1-The Protagonists; Three cops, one gangster attempting to become legit.
Cop#1 Colin Farrell plays an unlikeable dinosaur bent cop.  He drinks, drugs, smokes, beats women, he is detestable. He takes about 5 grams of coke in the time it takes Johnny Thunders to play the intro to Jet Boy. It seems quite out of character that he likes the New York Dolls - hed be more a BeeGees kinda guy I'd have thought. So is it meant to be a point in his favour, or is this the go to drug taking song, like Iggys I Wanna Be Your Dog was used in Lock Stock. All this depravity is caused, apparently, because he has to suffer being watched interacting with his son by a social worker. He is fighting his wife for access or parental rights, you see, so he must have a heart somewhere.Waking up in a wrecked room, he phones her and does a complete volte face, which is stretching it even more.
Gangster - Vince Vaughan's character isnt much better, trying to claw his missing $5m back from deadly Mexican hoodlums, and keep his girlfriend happy, played by a wasted, in terms of acting - so far- Kelly Reilly.More later.
Male cop #2 - Taylor Kitsch, is as troubled as Farrell.He has a death wish. We know this because he accidentally discovered the eyeless victim of torture in S2 E1,  by turning the lights of his motorcycle off while thundering along at 100mph on the coast road at midnight. But somehow the cops perform wonders in the crucial scenes described. You cheer them on despite everything.
Cop #3 - It is, by some way,  Rachel McAdams' show. She is also damaged, the hallucinations at the orgy show us why, but more likeable and always excellent, the knife practice routine she goes through, before the orgy burns with speed and aggression, all the while gleaning info about the scene from her sister. When it comes to escaping, the precise use of a blade honed in the routine saves her life, at least twice.

2 - The plot and reality; although it is super hard to make out what is going on between who, the plot is deliberately opaque. You just have to try to keep up and hope all will become clear. Vaughan doesnt really know where his $5m has gone. He was investing in a land deal which would have taken him out of the crime world, but he is now forced to return, and he is up to his armpits in it. Not only do nasty, dangerous Mexican gang bangers threaten his turf, his cop on the inside, Farrell, holds a gun on him under the table in S2 E6. Things are looking increasingly precarious for this super confident macho man, who must not lose face as the bad guys prod and test him for weakness. Then there are the missing gem stones and the missing girls. It is multilayered - lets hope writer Nic Pizzolatto brings it altogether at the conclusion. He has done it before, give him the benefit, you owe Series 1 that.

3 - Tension. Having just survived a very nasty,  hit and miss shoot out in a LA street, with many bad guys spraying bulitts all over the place, the three cops looked utterly shell shocked. The reaction was not button the revolver in the holster and strut off to the bar. It was get down on your knees and try to stop shaking. McAdams is sick. This is how you would feel. But the attempt to infiltrate the party, starting on a bus taking hookers to a mansion by McAdams was almost too much to bear.

When they arrive, everything is confiscated. She stands in a line of girls dressed in gowns. A woman walks along the line, and sprays a substance into every mouth. "What is it ? " she asks the girl next along. "Oh, its great, its just to put you in a good mood". So McAdams has to deal with a room full of
men who have been told to take what they want. All the while her grip on reality begins to fade. She hallucinates an evil face like Bob from Twin Peaks. The other two meanwhile are breaking in down below, to get info and help her escape. What happens next is must see. Believe me and get the TV out of the cellar.

Audiobooks and BBC Radio
Ha ha, thats a laugh you say. I only watch on the PC, the TV is at my dads. So heres a thought. Have you tried BBC radio on iplayer or audiobooks on a platform like audible or youtube. You cannot beat the BBC for radio drama. They own it. Having listened to Dostoyevsky's The Idiot, I am now half way through Vassily Grossman's Life and Fate, starring Kenneth Branagh and David Tennant. Considering this is a 20th century attempt to replicate War and Peace with a cast of 40+ characters who all have long Russian names, this is a masterly production of a difficult book to follow. The familiarity of a voice like Brannaghs makes it so much easier to place yourself in the convoluted and lengthy story. The other problem is much of the action is set within the rat war of Stalingrad of 1942. A more difficult thing to dramatise on the radio is hard to imagine. The quality of script and acting is first class, you must excuse the overdone dashes from pillar to post trying to avoid sniper fire.Some of the battles and explosions are actually pretty good.

I dont think foreign readers have access to the BBC iplayers fabulous back catalogue of programmes, including over 300 episodes of Lord Melvyn of Bragton's In our Time series. Often its beyond obscure; Tagore anyone? But his examination of the Etruscans, or Bruegel's 1559 picture The Fight between Carnival and Lent are a joy. I recently listened to an examination of Wellington and Napoleon as battle commanders. It was all over in half an hour. It seemed so short; the programme was given an extra 15 minutes sometime during it's lengthy run. Melvyn is a one off, as a talking head pointed out in the recent profile of him that aired recently. It will be on iplayer no doubt - tv section.

As for audiobooks, I enjoyed Donna Tartts debut novel, a tale of over privileged Classics and Greek scholars at an American Yale type university, A Secret History. I was bored stiff by the second, The Little Friend. Both were read by the author herself, most capably. But i have found nothing to beat the masterly accents and life breathed into David Mitchell's brilliant tale of trade, intrigue and devilry in 1800 Japan - The 1000 Autumns of Jacob de Zoet. Cloud Atlas was the first tale that translated so well from the page, this audio version as read by Jonathon Aris and Paula Wilcox is the benchmark audiobook, and is even more enjoyable than the ingenious Cloud Atlas film.

#A Thousand Autumns of Jacob de Zoet
#Cloud Atlas
#David Mitchell
#Jonathon Aris
#In Our Time
#Donna Tarrt
#Audiobooks
#True Detective
#The Game
#Kenneth Branagh
#David Tennant

Picasso & Matisse Lovers of Modern art group first meeting - 20-06-15

Facebook group dedicated to Picasso & Matisse and all other modern art - Meet no 1 at Christies and Sotheby's on June 20 2015

The first ever meeting of the Modern Art lovers group was at Christies and then Sotheby's. These pre-auction previews are always great; you get a warm welcome, free cloakroom and thick book - from Christies at least- with (almost) everything to be sold in the day and evening auctions in the week to come. The fabulous Deux Lectrices by Picasso was my favourite piece on show - estmated at £15m by Sotheby's. The wondrous room of ceramics and mugs, vases and other pottery by Picasso was a pure joy .

- make sure you seek it out. Many of these have £50k - £80k estimates. It just goes to show the owl, faun and fish jugs, plates and vases still available at under £5k represent good value in 2015. Even if they dont have Picassos own hand on the bottom - ahem! - they are still worth buying. As these  on sale at Christies at 1pm on Thursday 25-06-15 came from the family collection, they come with a premium value. Just make sure you keep them away from kids and cats! 
There is a most healthy selection of British artworks on sale on the same Thursday evening starting at 6pm. A fabulous Hepworth sculpture ("Two Forms with White - Greek" est £1.3m - £1.8m) and a cute mini-size "Rocking Chair No 2" by Henry Moore (est over £1m) that would sit atop a mantlepiece most easily. Also two top drawer Lowrys , both est. under £1m, a Bomberg and a fab Burra ("Fish stall Glasgow" 1949) both under £0.5m est. The only picture with an estimate over £1m is the Stanley Spencer "Hilda and I at Burghclere" whci has a high est. of £1.8m. Perhaps more impressive was the Bacon triptych at Sotheby's.

Matisse was barely represented except for one exquisite piece. There was an impressive German Expressionism room, some lovely Scheile, one Kandinsky, and three ultra collectable Magrittes at Christies, The Picasso still life was small but lovely, but the large Picasso Christies were pinning there highest hopes has wobbled in expectations, and the Russian money has meant the Malevich abstract black / blue shape has come on as a late replacement in the starring role - £20m - £30m est. I cant help feeling it will go for more than the Picasso, just because Malevich portrait went for so much in the spring sale. We will see this week.

Tense bidding war ends with the Klimt portrait of Gertrude Loew going for £22m - Wednesday 24th Sotheby's Evening Sale -

A fantastically tense bidding war erupted half way through Sotheby's main auction of Modern art and Impressionism on Wednesday night. The auctioneer couldn't decide whether to be patient or bad tempered as the bids kept on coming in increments of point one - or £100,000 in laymans money.It surged to £15m odd fairly swiftly, and then there was a long pause. Fair warning was given, and it seemed the hammer would fall on the sweet but unspectacular portrait of Gertrude Loew. It has none of Klimts usual showmanship, no gold leaf, no arresting coats or emboidery, no flashy, look at me frame. But something seemed to happen in one of the telephone bidders ears, and we were off again. The auctioneers encouragement worked on one of the two parties, and he/she accepted his requests to go up by half a million in one bid, while at the other side of the room, the competition kept on bidding at £0.1m scale. Finally we reached £22m and no end of imploring could bring any more funds to bear. The lady with the plunging neckline shook her head and we knew it was over. With the usual extras, the Klimt went for just under £25m . 

The previously discussed Malevich black rectangle obscuring other coloured shapes went for over £20m, beating the Picasso "Deux Personages - La Lecture" - not Les Lectrices which i previously called it.. This fetched £16m, as did the famous Manet picture commonly known to hang at The Courthauld - "Le Bar aux Folies Begeres". This is a copy or similar version. A Degas went for over £15m, and a Gaughin still life went for over £10m.

Not everything was a success. One of the Legers (pictured above) didnt meet its reserve, nor did one of the Hepworths.  The Matisse i loved - "Femme a L'"Ombelle", a great beauty with an umbrella and seascape went for £2m. The other Leger picture - "La Femme Couchant" - did sell for £3.4m.
The main Picasso ceramics and pottery sale is on Thursday  - day sale.

May 2015 - Go Italia 2015 -See Dantes Inferno and live - only £1200 ! Four gory days in Rome 

May began with a trip to Italy, life was so sweet in Tuscany at a centuries old villa in Monterrigioni to see Kate and Paolo get hitched. So good was the do they will be singing songs in Bromley and Beckenham for years .
"Where Paolo goes, we all go."
The only cloud during those blissful Tuscan days was missing the pre-wedding drinks party when a two hour drive from Pisa ended up taking closer to five thanks to the Maps app on the mobile deciding to go down. No sat nav or ancient style paper maps?  No worries, all you need if your Sony Xperia refuses to work are some intelligible road signs.Cant be that hard, can it ? Ha ha ha !
Here's how it went - we knew we had to get to Siena to have any hope of finding Monterrigioni - but somehow we'd managed to drive into Firenze instead, which would have been nice to have bypassed. We go round in circles in the dark in the most ugly suburbs of a town I've seen since I was in Milan heading for the airport 5 years ago. Round we go.
We ask a group of kids hanging around a lone petrol station in the deserted streets: "Err, scusi, signorina, er, directione Siena?" "aah" - long discussion with friends ensues. Back to us, it included the following, i think: "Roma sinistra, destra, sinistra, diretto, tuuuuti, tuuuti diretto, aqui, destra...directione Fi Pi Li..."
"Oooh, thanks very much"
Travelling companion JK to me: "what did she say?"
Me: "I haven't the faintest ".
On we go, round we go, another hour passes, the same grotty roundabouts, flats, billboards, the same signs say 'Fi Pi Li' left, then 10m later, Fi Pi Li right.
On and on, I get a feel for Dantes inferno...in my head.
Finally we get out of Firenze.
Day after the big day and our goodbyes all done, we head off to Rome, having worked out this leg of the journey should be a synch - a straighforward breeze direct down the motorway. We decide there is  time to take in Siena on the way. We park the car - wander into centre ville.

Blimey, Siena FC were at home and fans were all converging on the ground, like a natural amphitheatre surrounded by hills in this most vertiginous of towns. The whole place is shaped like a volcano, with ancient alleys and shopping streets bending in a permanent arc, every so often a fabulous vista would open up to the left or right. Finally we come across the famous piazza where the town's districts race horses once a year for honour and glory.
Wow factor = 9 / 10
Now, where did we leave the car? Oh FFS factor = 5/10.
Onto the motorway, direction Roma, only it doesn't say Roma on any signs, and OMG - yet again the phone's Map app has mysteriously stopped working, completely. OMG FFS factor = 6/10.
Then the traffic slows right down - two accidents - delays. 4pm. Expectant Airbnb host rings;
"pronto, so you still going to be here at 5pm, si?"
'No, no, I explained to you before, 5pm is when we're dropping off our hire car at Termini  (Rome's railway station), so it's going to be more like 6, ok?'
'OK, but you have to get a taxi from the station to get here asap, it'll take you half an hour - 30 euros."
'What d'you mean, why would we spend loads on a taxi? we can get public transport surely?'
'If you do that it will take you at least an hour - and then I'll charge you a late fee, so you better get that taxi',
'Hang on a minute, what late fee?!  And you said your flat was central, 'near the Vatican' - now you're saying you're an hour away on public transport?!!'
'Listen - you get late fee ok if you not get here - ciao,' click, constant tone = OMG factor 6/10.
Back in the UK, choosing Rome Termini as the drop off location had seemed a really sensible, time saving location. Two and a half hours later, at 6.30pm, having been through the hell of finding the way first into central Rome and then to the railway station through one of Europe's most mental cities to drive in, JK is nearly in tears and I've been nearer to a road rage incident than in 30 years driving in UK.
I locate the Sixt car hire desk - deserted. Nearby man on another desk;
'scusi, dove, Sixt?'
Shrug, incoherent gesture, = va funculo? .OMG factor 8/10 .
The horror of the next thought takes my mind directly to the gates of Dantes inferno. It dawns on me we are going to have to keep this flaming car another night, park it and keep driving in this madness - with no idea how to find the flat.
We ring our expectant hosts again. JK does the talking. What did he say?
" He said if we don't get there within half an hour, he 's fining us".
"You are joking".
"No, and he shouted at me. He's really angry now." OMG factor = 7/10.

Over an hour later we admit defeat and finally have to resort to being found by a search party sent by the charmless (eg Roman) host and his icy female 'assistant'.
After narrowly being rammed twice, missing two pedestrians by millimeters who just walked out across a six lane road, looking the other way, and having missed seeing many sights , except in my peripheral vision - I handed over the punishment cash and thought the hell was over.
But oh no, not until you are in bed does the inferno die down. We went out for food, and on returning to the flat, I found I couldn't get in. The key looked like it was from the dark ages and no end of wiggling, pulling, pushing, lifting would entice the lock to shift. Oh yes and I'd left my phone inside the flat so we had no way of contacting them. Off we trooped, back to the restaurant where we had just spent 30 euros on pizza.
"Err, prego, can we use telephono ?"
"No"
"Oh but it's an emergency"
"No"
Ho ho, these Romans, they are such a loveable bunch!
JK: "please, the number is in Rome and we really are in emergency"
We show the number is local and get to phone the charming assistant lady.
"Oh, ha ha, yes , the lock is a bit difficult, you just need to...."
Instructions follow, we go back and hurrah, we are in, the day from hell is over, the inferno recedes, at least for day 1, err, or is it?
,

We take a good look round charmless ones place. Nice big terrace, TV works ! And fantastico, theres a kettle ! Turn it on, everything goes dark and stops. OMG factor 9/10. When will the 24 hrs from hell end, not until we are in hour 25, thats for definite. I find the fuse box, i throw every switch, ha, it all works again . Thank you Lord. Shall i risk the kettle, I have been looking forward to this cup of tea with increasingly fevered anticipation as the hours have passed. Try again, yes ! Never did a drink taste so good ! The bed, the pillow, hello bed, goodbye day from hell.
Day 2 starts with numero uno proirity, to return the rental car to drop off at Termini. We renegotiate Rome's roads without death, destruction or a pull by the many different types of cop in Italy. We get to the top of of the designated very hard to find multi story car park, having managed to replenish the petrol at an Italian garage. So complicated and confusing is the system that enterprising migrant men earn a living from tips having explained the process to us drivers.
You must pay first. Into an automated machine that gives no change and only accepts special Italian top up cards and 10 euro notes. Think that's confusing? Wait till you get to the drop off point for the hire car. One notice says "Do not drop your keys into the box below". Underneath is another notice
" Drop your keys in the box below ". FFS factor 8/10.
The man arrives. He inspects the car - a crappy, Air Con less, Sat Nav less, mini grade thing. He notices a dot, like a stone chip on the paint work. He writes copious notes and gets me to sign.
" Everything OK ?"
"Yes, no problem. Go to office now ".
In the 'office' - the desk back at Termini, the man spends for ever on the phone. I am not told why. I am Inglese, clearly equivalent in social status in Rome to a sewer rat. I give up trying to explain the problems we'd had when the man produces a miniscule leaflet, that was nowhere to be seen when I'd arrived at the deserted desk the day before, which has tiny writing and what appears to be a flowchart with mysterious symbols on it.
'See this is multi storey carpark, black white building very easy - no problem, no-one here yesterday?
anyone can follow!!'

After 20 mins, I am told I can go. I am too grateful to be out of there to double check that I won't be charged 250E for a new paint job.
First stop on my tour of the sights, the Colosseum. When JK tells me the steps inside are made for giants I realise I am too tired to even try. Then the Forum, the Capitaline, the Pantheon, Piazza Novarro, the Spanish Steps. There is so much. At the steps I can only lie weakly as my stomach has reacted badly to eating half a tub of Haagen Daas.  We make a special effort to see the Trevi Fountain at night. It is under scaffold and glass - no water, just dustbin trucks circling.
JK then walks into a plate glass window at a gelati shop and bangs her nose, very hard. She bursts into tears: "It's all so stressful - I just want to go home!" she cries. My heart goes out to her, it has been stressful, and our financial position is going so far into the red it feels like we will be in debt for years  to come, and we dk how much SixT are going to charge for a stone chip and day late return charge. Gulp, dont think about it, FFS enjoy yourself!

Jk bravely insists we must finish the planned squares at night tour and take in Piazza Navona, despite a worrying feeling I voice that we should be finding the bus to get home as there is a tube strike. We pause for a commemorative photo of the throbbing red nose by the famous fountain.
When we find a bus nearby that's going in the Vatican direction and thus ours - we feel blessed. I ask the driver - with a man sitting near him trying to stop me talking - to let us know when to get off. I keep asking - battling the belingerent old bastard who's getting increasingly on my case. All the other passengers stare at us impassively. Some time later we realise it looks like we are heading out of the city and perhaps we had better get off. Stepping down, we pass an incredibly unusual city dweller, one who is genuinely helpful and speaks English.
But you're miles away from where you need to be!" he exclaims "Didn't you ask the bus driver, or any of the passengers ?'
It turns out we are a two hour walk from home - with no chance of any transport, no passing taxis, no help. There is nothing for it but to put our best foot forward. One small advantage - in having to circumnavigate one half of the giant wall surrounding the Vatican, we see how huge it is, No wonder its got its own post office and bank. ~If you think walking around Buckingham Palace is bad, try doing this !
Day 3 - we go to the Vatican museums. So massive are they, it takes an hour to get to the Sistine Chapel.
"Silenzio!" again and again the cry rings out. We are shouted at, cajoled, told to stand up, take off hats, move, don't move, sit, don't sit. All the time you are craning your neck, trying to make out what Michelangelo had in mind, and what am I meant to have in my mind? Not Dante, I am fairly sure. It is incredible. As are the Raffaele (Raphael) rooms. The School of Athens is the easiest part to appreciate, being in front of you, not far off on the ceiling.

Wow factor = 10/10.
It is absolutely unmissable and the highlight of the entire Italian tour. And that includes the Day 4 trip to the legendary Cinecitta studios and its huge outdoor sets.  Roman centurions filming a swords and sandals remake of Ben Hur by the Russian director who did Leviathon trooped in front of us. There's also "Christ the Lord" in the making, and Ben Stiller was due to arrive the next day to film Zoolander part 3 on the set Scorsese had burnt down for the climax of Gangs of New York. Hollywood on the Tiber lives on, apparently.

Wow factor = 2/10.
Cinecitta was great and the staff were charming. I can only assume they weren't true Romans, because they universally treat us Brits like the shit on your shoe.
Back in the tube on our way to the airport, as a final last salvo, we were crushed yet again by the ruthless entry gates slamming abruptly shut on us - it felt like the last straw. "What the fuck is wrong with this place?'  I screamed at the unconcerned staff sitting in clear sight of us in their control room.
They bashed on the glass and screamed back, 'Davanti, Davanti!!' pointing furiously at another totally incomprehensively sign. Ow factor = 8/10.
I loved Rome, but the Romans are an acquired taste, and I am yet to acquire it !

Note = Fi Pi Li = Firenze Pisa Livorno - tutti directione !