Saint Ryan has a ring to it

---

I decided that for Nicola’s birthday present I would buy her flights to a mystery destination in Europe. I subtly asked her where she had been in Europe before and narrowed down the field. I booked flights and accommodation and told her to arrange time off from work. She was desperate to know where we were going and even tried to get her friends and family to coerce the information from me. I stood strong and told her that I was even going to pack her luggage. ‘Over my dead body, you wouldn’t be able to co-ordinate my outfits’ Nic replied. ‘Bikinis go with everything though’. That wasn’t a good answer; I wasn’t allowed to pack.

Anyway so on the morning of Wednesday the 15th of August (after a ridiculously early train from Barrow) we were standing at Liverpool airport and Nicola still had no idea where she was flying to. It would have been a better surprise if I could have blindfolded her and put on earmuffs, but I don’t think Nicola or security for that matter would have allowed it.

Nicola was happy to find out that Italy was our destination, she called her friends and family and told them. They all said I should be made a saint and wanted to throw a tickertape parade when we returned. Or maybe I overheard wrong. Anyway, we had a good flight with Ryanair, how could you go wrong with a name like that? From the airport we got a shuttle into Venice and then had the task of finding our B&B. In hindsight we should have taken a water taxi, walking around Venice in the middle of the day while it is scorching hot with packs on trying to not get lost is ummm, character building. Eventually we made it, had a cold shower, left our packs in our rooms and went for ice-creams, we deserved them and f*ck me they were good. They are called gelatis and must be eaten at least once daily. Well that was the rule we abided by.

Later on in the evening after a good walk around San Marco square and its surrounding areas we had a meal near the Rialto Bridge. I decided to try some wine with my Carbonara, when in Rome (or near Rome) and all that jazz. I don’t usually drink it and was surprised how much of an effect it had. I felt like I was constantly stumbling to my left (think Zoolander and his ambi-turning affliction on the catwalk), not a good thing when surrounded by so much water.

---

Photos

Labyrinth
There's an alleyway to the right if you look hard

Comments

[Fitch]

You romantic rascal! Or should I say complete and utter b@stard for making the rest of us guys look bad.