Wishee Washee Can't Find A Dryer.

SULZANO.

A very noisy night, we had the lot. Busy traffic, car alarms, drunken teenagers and dustbin wagons at 6 am. The occupants of the old caravan next door sleep all day, come alive at night and appear Eastern European. You can guess what occupation Rosie thinks they do. So our sleep was fitful at best.

We are knocking on the supermarket door at 8 am. Even so , we are not the first in the queue. Pick up provisions for tomorrow not knowing what shops we will find lakeside.

Have to park the van 15 minutes away from the start, all spaces were full of resident parking. The organiser moves the start board up a hill. It looks like we will have to run downhill until we realise that it is only for the photo shoot.

A two lap relatively flat course has a field of about 120. I race a couple of women from 1 mile out. I finish in the middle. Rosie is talking to a namesake. She and her husband live in Singapore, work for Generali and are in Milan for a meeting. Two of their colleagues flew in at 6:30 this morning and came straight to the run.

We decide to set off before having breakfast. The journey is a difficult one, skirting Milan. At one traffic light, the car in front turns right and the car in the outer lane to my left also turns right. Call at a petrol station. I have two choices, serve myself or pay an extra 18 cents per litre to be served. Who would choose the latter? We stop in Caravaggio, in the grounds of a sanctuary for tea and croissants.

The clouds drop and drizzle affects us for several miles. Rosie considers changing the destination but we push on. Our destination is Lago d'Iseo. The campsite is almost on the lake. Fill with water, charge all gadgets and Rosie uses the washing machine. She reckons it was a wedding present for the 80 year old owner. Unfortunately, there is no drier and it's a very still day. We're forced to eat our dinner with damp washing hanging inside the van.

Go for a couple of walks, first down to the lake to consider taking the bikes to the traffic free Monte Isola. The ferry price would total 30 euro so we decide against it.

We're treated to a procession of classic sports cars passing the campsite. They sport numbers on their doors, we notice cars numbered 105. You can just see a white one dropping down the hill in the background. We walk up to the waterfall then on to the eleventh century church. Finally, we drop down to the village again.

Mass is at 18:30 so we attend. As we find in Spain, the language is a musical one. At the end of mass, everyone rushes out. Perhaps they are hoping to catch the second half of the semi final.