As has been our habit for the past few years, we met my stepson in Rome. He stayed at the same Daysleeper B&B in fact, although, being a first-class only travel kind of guy, he wasn’t too enamoured with what to him was downmarket – no room service, no forelock tugging staff and ambient noise from the street three stories below. The roaring vehicles, horns hnking, the squeal of the trolley wheels and the periodic ou-ah, ou-ah of ambulances and police cars were just the hum was of regular life going on. (since we’ve returned, it has struck me that North American life, especially in the country with the windows closed, pulses with silence instead.) Hub and I loved the place – it has…

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