Lovely Nashe drove the intrepid little family into Florence on our last morning to cath our train to Turin, whence we caught our flight to London. By the skin of our teeth. Despite catching a taxi from Turin station to the airport (driven by a Florentine woman with a big smile who told us all about her holiday driving through Belarus, the Ukraine... we were a little too tense to listen closely), we arrived at the check in desk 4 minutes after it had closed. Ed ran over to a know of uniformed officials, who curled their lips in disdain at his pathetic bleatings and remained obdurate and unsympathetic until... a woman caught sight of Jacob, bobbing along behind in my arms, and all changed. We were hurried through, and all was well.
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