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About Genoa

Gets me blood boilin tho, these hipsters now buyin em up, payin stupid cash for somethin I’d scrap for a tenner back in the day. Makes me wanna scream, “You’re a bunch of bellends!” But then - quiet thought in me head - maybe I’m jealous, eh? Cos when I was a lad, me uncle had an Escort, blue one, rusty as fuck, and we’d bomb round the estate, wind in me hair, feelin like kings. “Past is just a story we tell ourselves,” *Her* says, and ain’t that the truth? Nostalgia’s a sneaky bitch.

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After the session, I’m starving. I hit up this little trattoria on Via Garibaldi. The food is bomb! I order some pasta, and it’s like a hug in a bowl. Seriously, I could live off this stuff. But then, the waiter spills water all over me. I’m soaked! I’m laughing, but inside, I’m like, “Really? Is this how we’re doing today?”

Xylella, assessments completed on Lecciana and Leccio del Corno