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About Naples

I’m chuffed to bits, but then—bloody hell!—this geezer rolls up, all aggro, yellin’ she’s his turf. Made me proper mad, yeah! I’m thinkin’, “This cat’s harsher than a buzzsaw haircut!” Reminds me of Doc’s line, “Somebody’s gotta get outta here alive.” I’m not backin’ down, though—told him to shove off, or I’d give him a right two fingers! He buggered off, and I’m like, “Groovy, baby, crisis averted!”

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Anyway, I keep walkin’, and I hit Piazza della Repubblica. It’s usually packed with folks, but today? Crickets. Just me and a couple of stray cats. I’m like, “Where’s everyone at?” Then I remember, it’s market day! The stalls are poppin’ off on Via Garibaldi. I rush over, and man, the smell of fresh bread hits me like a brick. I grab a focaccia, and it’s like heaven in my mouth. I’m munchin’ away, feelin’ like a king.

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