Approaching Aosta and heading towards Mt. Blanc, we decided to have a Saturday night hotel as the rain was increasing and we have become a little sodden lately. Our room had a full size mannequin on the balcony, a charming girl dressed as a chef. My initial attempt to manipulate her resulted in a dislocated arm (hers). After showering I tried to hang some washing on her hand which fell off, bounced on the balcony and dropped into the alleyway outside the hotel entrance. Obviously not being dressed I sent Wendy out to retrieve it. A dangerous woman , I kept clear of her (the mannequin) after that.
Next day cycled the 35km to Courmayer from where we have to take the bus through the Mt. Blanc tunnel as no passes are open. Unfortunately it doesn't run on a Sunday so, having missed my first F.A. cup final since 1968, I retired to a bar to watch the climax of the Italian season. When Inter score to seal the title the guy sat next to me jumps up, hugs his mate then, in a state of high excitement, slaps his hand against a door, shattering a clip frame and sending glass flying everywhere. Drama indeed.
Later, cooking our meal on the balcony, I become aware of undue interest from the hotel owner standing outside below. There's plenty of sizzling and spicy mushroom aroma so I turn the stove off and wave nonchalantly before withdrawing into our room. Later, after relocating the cooker around the corner, she emerges again and stands chatting in a position to see both halves of our balcony. Aware that the rice is about to boil over I have to pretend to hang washing out before bending down to switch the cooker off. Eventually she looses interest but for discretion we decide to eat indoors.
And all the while the slab of Mont Blanc rears over us and provides a backdrop to our activities. Well it would if it wasn't wreathed in cloud...
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