We leant against one of the the old stone barriers and I imagined all the events that had taken place within its walls. The blood-thirsty voyeuristic ...pectacles, mock battles and racing chariots. So much history had unfolded there and it was impossible not to be moved by the sheer grandeur of the place.After a coffee and a shared tiramisu we walked back to the hotel. The sun was setting and Venus was burning, high above the eastern horizon.I opened the door to our room. I looked at Elizabeth,. ‘And you call me creepy?’ I beat her there, made my way to Post Alley and followed the scent of roasting beans and got a table, rain had given way to fast-scudding clouds over the sound, and now the tops of the Olympics were all aglow in the sunrise. Cool, clean air, roasting coffee, fresh pastry…life suddenly felt good again, and Mary-Jo showed up a few minutes later and I got a couple of two-liter quadruple-shot espressos. Nothing like a slight buzz to start the day, I always say. ‘Geesh, I. More

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