Some of my faith in tourism has been restored. On my way back an English couple sitting opposite were reading Michael Baxendall's Painting and Experience in Fourteenth-Century Italy and George Holmes' Florence, Rome, and the Origins of the Renaissance. They, of course, were not those who made me despair in Florence, but still, it was heartening to see people asking why the art they are seeing is the way that it is, and prepared to read the research of some great experts to learn this.
Today I read Oriana Fallaci's article in Corriere della Sera, called 'Il nemico che trattiamo da amico'. She makes some very inflammatory remarks. Her voice is full of fear, full of searching. It doesn't make easy reading.
I'm sitting in Stansted. Words can hardly describe my feelings of utter disgust for this airport. '...it is not fit for humans now'.
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