An Italian Confession.

I've just got back from a long weekend in Italy. Yah. Sorrento, bless you.

For those of you uneducated berks, here is Sorrento in all it's glory:

 

 

 

Let me tell you something you probably don't know about me. Before my trip to Italy, I'd never once finished an entire pizza to myself. That's right, you heard me. Now back off!

Never. Not even when I'd had a skinful and thought that a £2.50 pizza from the local takeaway was a religion. My lack of ability to gorge consume always meant one good thing though...

Pizza for breakfast.

Let me tell you something that will now shock you to your very core now you know that about me...

In Italy, I ate two whole pizzas in one day.

Gulp. I know, I'm surprised you didn't hear about it on the news already.

Lunch

Dinner

Never has the rule, and it is a rule 'when in Rome' applied with more severity and seriousness.

If I may, your honour, I will just say that pizza in Italy is like no pizza I've ever had before. The dough is so much lighter, so it's devious because you don't feel that dodgy-stodgy-kill-me-now-hand-me-the-elasticated-waistband-trousers feeling with them. Those cheeky Italians know EXACTLY what they're doing when they knead that heavenly dough. I had serious cheese related nightmares that night, one that involved Danny from The Script chasing me. Dear God.

Plus, I was helping the local economy which I understand is in a right shitstate at the moment.

The moral of todays story? Go to Italy, eat pizza and you'll help the local economy.

Ciao!