Here at the palazzo de Ruch, the marble columns thought to be the work of the renaissance artist Giuseppe del Woerbleingio, admittedly a trifle naive from his early works and before he’d mastered actual carving, were guarded night and day by members of the Swiss guard ( admittedly a smaller outfit than the more well known group who guard his holiness at the Kremlin), they’re a dour bunch to be honest and sometimes when I look at the pizza covered doublets and rusty breastplates I wonder whether their heart is really in it.
Anyway after a few words with Charles and Frederick I was convinced by their argument to wit the pursuit of Alphonse for the mass slaughter of woodpidgeon, seems it’s fairly common in these parts no matter what your picture is, Alphonse is thinking pies. How is this to be reconciled? The personal appeal hasn’t worked, perhaps a resolution from the UN – probably not going to cut the proverbiale, a pithy note through the letterbox? I admit it seems useless, maybe I should take a deep breath and recognise that his culture of downing things for the pot is just as legit’ as mine even if different.
The day’s winding down now – a day of rest that seems to have been anything but restful but full of psychological and philosophical conjecture and debate.
Is it better to fight or fill a glass, should live and let live be carried as far as happy rats, do the lights on the green always turn a shade of purple in the autumn or is that merely stomach trouble. Who can say, who can say.
A taxi when you’re ready Marcel.
Ruby&Ruch 