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March 6, 2026

Venice revisited: shopping, lunch and two dinners

That’s not two dinners on one night. Obviously.

Our partner in crime on this trip was Alison, chef of her own restaurant in Norfolk for many years.

It was her first time in Italy and, as a fellow food obsessive, I was excited to show her the markets. Her husband declined to join us, knowing that food would be the dominant subject of conversation.

He was right. Here we are, photographing Puntarelle (it’s a chicory, dressed with anchovies and garlic and…. alright, we’ll stop now).

We went to Rialto and discussed the price of fish.

We decided against the Goby,

but it was worth it for people watching,

Then lunch at Bancogiro, site of the world’s first public merchant bank. Their terrace overlooks the Grand Canal, a few steps from Rialto Bridge.

There’s a menu, but it’s better to go into the bar and choose your cicheti from the glass cabinet, order a glass of wine, (or it’s always Spritz o’clock) and they’ll bring it all to your table.

Dinner at Osteria alle Testiere, where ‘it’s always SHOWTIME!’

Alle Testiere is an absolute legend. It’s one of those restaurants where the guests are eager to impress their hosts.

It’s essential to make your reservation well ahead. We like to book for the second service, and we’re usually the last to leave.

It’s tiny, founded 33 years ago by Luca di Vita and Bruno Gavagnin, who were formerly head waiter and chef respectively at Corte Sconta, renowned for its seafood.

It’s a long menu. Fish is the point here, they’re closed on Sunday and Monday, because the Rialto market isn’t open.

Luca took our order:

‘Three turbot? I hope we have enough’.

After dinner, Ali engaged Luca in conversation.

‘Bruno goes to Rialto every day, he’s like a child in a sweet shop, he wants to buy everything’.

Ali confided that in her restaurant she listed three choices for each course on her menu.

‘That’s my dream’ said Luca, ‘and the same for the wine list – just three that will go with anything you order’.

With that in mind, we ordered three desserts: pannacotta, zabaglione and a glorious dark chocolate mousse, swimming in a lagoon of Amaro.

Alle Testiere is open for lunch, and two sittings in the evening (book it as soon as you’ve booked your flight).

Trattoria del Local

Ali flew home the next day, and we decided to try the recent offshoot of Ristorante Local, which opened ten years ago and now has a Michelin star.

The young owners, Benedetta and Luca Fullin, were looking for somewhere nearby to store wine for Local, but when the opportunity came up to buy the premises from Olive Nera, the restaurant next door, they couldn’t resist…..

It’s pretty inside and, like Testiere, it’s small.

The wine list offers wines by the 125cl glass or 250cl carafe; the full list is available by scanning a code to your phone (a skill beyond my pay grade).

We had a vermouth, ‘classic from Turin’, and a glass of sparkling Franciacorta as aperitifs, then shared a carafe of ‘Giulietta’, a Garganega/Traminer blend; golden nectar, redolent of greengage, melon and honey.

Starters were a delicate snapper mousse, and an exemplary vitello tonnato.

Mains were lagoon fish with a rich stew of tomato, onion and capers.

I asked for a glass of light red wine, and was recommended a Carmenere by Inama, a favourite producer of fine Soave.

We shared a selection of hard cheeses, then a ‘Bonet’, a dark chocolate crème caramel. I couldn’t resist the waitress’s recommendation of a 10 year old dry Marsala; ‘With the Bonet it’s the end of the world’.

To finish, I was intrigued by Grappa di Tabacco.

Benedetta suggested a smell, ‘for you to understand’, and offered me a sniff of the cork and the open bottle.

Reader, I inhaled it, and accepted a glass. It was the colour of polished brass, quite fiery and the taste had something in common with a smoky Islay whisky.

It may have been my imagination, but it reminded me of the mild hallucinogenic effect of your first cigarette.

Benedetta smiled; ‘as an ex-smoker I don’t want to like it. But I do’.

Opened early in 2025, it’s still being checked out by locals, a lot of whom were clearly in the restaurant business. I think we were probably the only non-Italians there.

As we left, the chef was enjoying a fag break (the real thing) with his mates.

Full disclosure:

We spent more on dinner for two here than we had for three the night before at Testiere, but we did drink very well.

We were over excited, and turned right out of the restaurant – we should have gone left.

It’s easy to take a wrong turn in Venice.

http://www.osterialletestiere.it/

Starters & pasta 26 – 28 euros. Mains 32 euros. Desserts 12 euros. Extensive wine list from 24 euros a bottle.

http://www.trattoriadellocal.com/

Starters & pasta 16 – 25 euros. Mains 24 – 28 euros. Wine from 27 euros a bottle. Grappa di Tabacco – did I really?

January 24, 2026

Santa Marta farmers’ market, a hidden gem in Venice

Approaching to land at Marco Polo for a few days in Venice, I was leafing through ‘Walks in Venice, in the footsteps of 9 locals’ and came across The Mercato de Santa Marta, ‘a small but lively local market’ where every Monday morning, farmers from the mainland come to set up their stalls.

The book is by Katia Waegemans, founder of The Venice Insider, a travel blog for frequent visitors to Venice. It’s available from Amazon, the link is at the end of this post.

We landed on a Saturday in October, which gave us a day to settle in and be ready to find the market. The Santa Marta neighbourhood is in the depths of Dorsoduro.

Dorsoduro

We passed Tramontin, one of the few remaining boatyards that specialise in repairing gondolas, then through the campus of Venice University, where we paused for coffee in the student canteen before proceeding into a complex of unprepossessing halls of residence.

Gondolas at Tramontin

Old ladies were walking towards us with laden shopping trolleys, which is always a sign that you are getting close to a market; sure enough we rounded a corner and there it was. We headed for the busiest greengrocers’ stall, hoping we would be served eventually.

Fortunately a young student shared the helpful information (in English, she was Italian/Australian, an interesting mix) that we should take a ticket from the red dispenser (there’s one on every stall) and wait for our number to be called.

We came away with a good haul of fruit and veg for just 17 euros.

We were recommended to try ‘The Devil’s Beans’ with instructions on cooking by the cheerful stallholder, who threw in some parsley and sage to complete the dish.

Approaching Santa Marta

Shoppers were a mix of students and locals, I think we were the only non-Italians there. The quality of produce was excellent, and prices were very reasonable.

The plant stall

We picked up some pork and chicken, salame, cheese, buffalo pannacotta, and a beautiful yoghurt with forest fruits.

Best of all, I spotted ‘Puntarelle’, a salad vegetable that’s only available for a limited season, and rarely seen outside Italy.

Puntarelle

After shopping, lunch would be our reward

We decided to award ourselves a snack lunch of tramezzini, little sandwiches stuffed with various fillings, and headed across the Giudecca Canal to the Bar Palanca.

I’ve always been a little concerned about the Palanca since Time Out magazine listed it as one of its ‘bars with the best views in the world’.

I needn’t have worried.

We were greeted by a lovely waiter who’s been there for years; he fist-bumped each of us in turn, and firmly upsold the specials of the day to share. We were putty in his hands.

The star dish was an antipasto of tuna tartare, baccala mantecato (whipped salt cod), silver anchovies with pink peppercorns, and sarde in saor (sardines with onion, vinegar and golden raisins).

My enquiry about the delicate spicing of the tuna was met with the inevitable response:

‘It’s our secret mix’.

You can reach the market by vaporetto from the Grand Canal to the Santa Marta stop, or walk as we did from the San Basilio stop on the Giudecca Canal; cross to Palanca on the opposite side.

January 13, 2026

Amaro. For the avoidance of doubt.

‘It’s bitter, no?

This is the true Amaro’, explained Luca di Vita, the charming maitre d’ of Osteria alle Testiere in Venice.
It’s one of my favourite restaurants.

Amaro in Italian means bitter. It’s also a drink. Most of the commercial brands are a bit too sweet, and Luca has created his own ‘Nostrano’, (Ours).

It’s a drink to savour after a meal, a bit like port, but yes, bitter…..
It’s brownish red in colour, with a hint of green.

There’s sweetness, yes, but with the bitterness of rhubarb, artichoke (try Cynar, if you’re feeling adventurous) and who knows what other alchemy.

It’s stimulating, a punctuation that marks the end of a meal, and it supposedly helps the digestion.

Bitter flavours are prized by Italians in ways that we Brits might find challenging: radicchio, rocket, Campari, and the complexities of aged balsamic vinegar or Gorgonzola Piccante.

I dare you.

January 8, 2026

The history of a broken cello

I don’t usually watch The Repair Shop on BBC television, but it happened to be on over Christmas. It was the Christmas Special, filmed in a heavy snowfall; I only realised later it was probably recorded in the height of summer.

In the show, members of the public bring family treasures to be repaired by expert craftspeople.

In this episode Dame Helen Mirren was invited as a guest.

She presented the Repair Shop with a project which caught my attention; she works with Denville Hall, a retirement home for people in the theatrical profession. Past residents include Sir Richard Attenborough, Robert Hardy and Marianne Faithfull; Scottish comedian and actor Stanley Baxter died there last year.

It drew my interest because Denville Hall is located in Ducks Hill Road, Northwood, where I spent much of my childhood.

She told the story of Martin Landau, a theatre director who was a supporter of the home (not to be confused with the American actor of the same name).

Landau came to Britain on the Kindertransport, a Jewish child fleeing from Nazi Germany. Aged just 14, he never saw his parents again.

He brought with him his most treasured possession; a cello, which was deliberately broken by the German guards as he boarded the train. Despite the damage he kept it, and left it to Denville Hall on his death.

The project was to repair the cello so that it could be played again for the enjoyment of the residents of the hall.

Becky Horton, a stringed instrument restorer, described it as beautiful, but ‘a real mess’. It was badly cracked, and the neck was detached from its body.

It was a long and very anxious process to repair the cracks, and she became tense as the neck had to be glued in place very precisely, or the tone of the cello would be imperfect.

Later in the programme Helen Mirren returned to see the completed work. Becky told her that during the process of restoration, she had fallen in love with the instrument.

A celebrated cellist, Raphael Wallfisch, was introduced to play ‘Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas’, proving that after more than eighty years the cello was resonantly alive, with a future ahead of it.

December 21, 2025

A postcard from Turin

History is close to the surface

The emblem of Torino is a little bull. I happened upon this one, looking down at me from the wall of a house.

Turin was founded by the ancient Romans; Porta Palatina is a fragment of their city wall.

We stayed on Via Garibaldi, a pedestrianised shopping street in the Centro Storico.

Exploring on the first day, I could hear a drumbeat in the distance. As the drums came closer, fifers started to play ‘The British Grenadiers’, a bizarre choice of tune in this Italian city.

The banner commemorates local hero Pietro Micca, who sacrificed his life in 1706, defending his city against the French.

City of culture

Since the Winter Olympics of 2006, and with the declining importance of industry, Turin has sought to attract tourism. There are free walking tours available from Via Garibaldi, and you’ll happen upon small scale but interesting exhibitions, such as Gli Italiani at the Palazzo Falletti in Barolo, just off Via Garibaldi.

‘The Italians’ was a project undertaken in the sixties by French photographer Bruno Barbey, documenting the lives of ordinary Italians in a country still emerging from the aftermath of the Second World War.

Palermo 1963

Venezia 1962

There are grand museums and galleries too; Turin is home to a collection of Egyptian antiquities second only to the museum in Cairo, and an extraordinary museum of Italian cinema.

Where we ate, what we drank

The restaurants we went to were inexpensive and not touristy. Wines start at around 20 euros a bottle, and are often available in carafe.

La Taverna dei Mercanti

A cosy place with a menu largely based around thinly sliced veal and beef: carpaccio, brasato, tonnato.

If that weren’t confusing enough, I ordered a grappa. Good job I didn’t ask for a large one….

An elegant pour

Tre Galli (three cockerels, not to be confused with its nearby sister restaurant ‘Tre Galline’, three chickens) is a bit of a hipster place near Porta Palazzo market. The highlight for me was this dish of pasta with beans, chestnuts, pumpkin, gorgonzola and a wine reduction; like a big warm hug on a chilly November evening. We followed with a Zabaglione per condividere (a handy phrase, meaning ‘to share’).

Pasta Garfagnano

Pino & Pino was recommended by Giuditta, the owner of our apartment, as somewhere she eats regularly.

(She also has accommodation for skiing and sent me loads of photos, please DM me if you’re interested, and I’ll put you in touch).

We started with a foaming carafe of Frizzante, then demolished a bottle of red Dolcetto.

It was Carciofi (artichoke) season, and there were three specials on the blackboard. We had these ‘fritti’ and a salad of thinly sliced raw artichokes with lemon juice and shaved parmesan.

Anyone for tennis?

I can recommend Turin as a destination for a city break, there’s plenty to see (and eat!).

The ATP tournament is back in 2026, and we’re tempted to go for a return match….

December 18, 2025

Turin: searching for markets

The beauty of renting an apartment in an Italian city is that you have your own front door key, and a kitchen.

We based ourselves in a well appointed apartment on Via Garibaldi.

Even if you don’t want to do any complicated cooking, you can buy some exceptional salame, fresh pasta, cheese and fruit – you’ll even pick up some very acceptable wine for around €5 a bottle.

Turin used to have a reputation for being an industrial city, famous for the Fiat factory and little else, but it’s also the capital of Piedmont, a region with a rich agricultural tradition.

It’s the home of the Slow Food movement, which celebrates small scale producers.

Opening ceremony at the Slow Food festival, 2016

Residents still do their shopping at food markets, and there are excellent independent shops.

Porta Palazzo is the largest outdoor market in Europe and one of the oldest, attracting 100,000 visitors a week. Located on Piazza della Repubblica in the city centre, it consists of roughly half food stalls and half clothing.

There are three permanent food halls on the perimeter; the fish market has closed since I was last there in 2016, but there are still fish vendors in another building.

Best of the three is ‘L’Antica Tettoia dell’Orologio’, with a distinctive clock on its glass and iron façade. Inside you’ll find butchers (including horsemeat), cheese, and all kinds of speciality delicatessen.

Behind it is a little gem, the covered farmers’ market.

‘Mercato Centrale’ opened in 2019 on the northwest corner of the piazza. It’s a food court with a long bar at the centre, and plenty of choices for a lunch or snack: Brazilian or Moroccan food, a seafood bar, and of course food from the Italian regions. It was packed on Sunday, easier to negotiate the following day.

Upstairs there’s a cookery school, and a fashion mall.

The central bar at Mercato Centrale

There’s a counter devoted to the local Agnolotti del Plin (see my previous post, weren’t you paying attention?). ‘Plin’ are smaller than ravioli, and filled with meat – but I’ve never seen them offered fried before.

I was looking for something a little lighter.

I chose a warm focaccia with guanciale (cured pork cheek in melting slices) and potato, from a large bakery stall.

Mercato Centrale has outposts in Florence, Rome and Milan.

You’d think Porta Palazzzo would be enough for any city, but no. I was struck on this visit by the excellent street markets in other locations.

Perhaps best of all is the Sunday producers’ market in Piazza delle Erbe, aka Piazza Palazzo di Città. Star turn was the fresh pasta lady, who was enthusiastically offering tastings. I chose the goats’ cheese and caramelised onion.

The aforementioned wine producer was also happy to give tastings of perfectly decent Spumante, Dolcetto and Nebbiolo, mostly around €5 or 6 a bottle.

If food isn’t your thing, there’s a flea market, Balôn, to the northwest of Porta Palazzo.

On the second Sunday of the month it becomes the ‘Gran Balôn’ with seemingly endless stalls selling vintage posters, clothing, antiques, furniture, even bikes.

If all that’s not enough, on a clear day you can see the Alps from the city centre….

December 3, 2025

Turin: in Search of Stanley Tucci

My travelling companions were going to Turin for the ATP year-end tennis tournament.

I was there for the food. My last visit was in 2015, and I had some unfinished business.

Hollywood star Stanley Tucci, ‘Italian on both sides’, was a source of research in the Piedmont episode of his TV series ‘Searching for Italy’, available on Amazon Prime.

First stop, coffee

We followed in his footsteps for coffee at Al Bicerin, an institution on Piazza della Consolata since 1763. They run a queuing system, and once you sit down there’s a short wait while your drinks are made, and the complimentary biscotti are plated.

Al Bicerin

Pronounced Beech-erin, the eponymous drink consists of layers of espresso and dark hot chocolate, sipped through cold cream, a perfect start on a chilly morning. ‘We suggest not to stir it’.

So far, so good. Where to for lunch, Stanley?

Piola da Celso, an unassuming place on a quiet residential backstreet. Piola translates roughly as a tavern serving home cooked food.

Chef Elisabetta prepares everything herself each day, and Stanley was assured she makes the best Bagna Caôda in town. Traditionally eaten during the grape harvest and pressing, it’s a warm dipping sauce of garlic and anchovies, served with vegetables.

‘It has incredible flavour, and will give you incredible breath – the garlic kills everyone in front of you’.

I had to try it.

I walked there to work up an appetite, which was just as well. I was shown to a table next to a group of five men of a certain age, who were already deeply engrossed in pasta, tripe, roast rabbit, and carafes of red wine.

Elisabetta’s son Carlo was called over to speak to me in English. I did my best, and he quickly reassured me ‘your Italian is perfect’. (He’s as charming as he appeared to be on TV).

‘My name is Carlo, like your king’.

He recommended the mixed antipasto to start, with the last portion of Bagna Caôda.

I ordered un quartino dell’ Arneis, a 25cl carafe of the local white wine.

Bagna Cauda

The antipasto was a lesson in Piemontese dialect: vitel tonné, salame cotto, insalata russa, tomino with two sauces*.

*sliced veal with tuna & caper mayonnaise, baked salami, Russian salad, and tangy, creamy cheeses with red & green sauces – all specialities of the region; the salame you will only find there.

Tomino cheeses

Elisabetta came over, unbidden, to give me a taste of a mysterious green purée; I asked what it was, and she showed me a raw floret: ‘e broccolo, con un po di patate’…..

I ordered the agnolotti con salsa arrosto, ‘then you can decide what to do….’

An enormous pan of pasta arrived, dressed with parmesan and the rich juices of roast meat. ‘It’s ravioli, but here in Piemonte we call it agnolotti’.

I reluctantly declined the offers of meat and dessert, and opted for an espresso. Lunch was 28 euros.

Carlo asked my name, took an interest in where I was from, what was my work, and offered to call me a taxi.

Two days later I returned, this time with reinforcements.

I had phoned ahead, and Elisabetta recognised me, greeting me with a little curtsey.

Two of us shared the antipasti, then Tajarin, similar to spaghetti but fresh pasta, with tomato, followed by a slice of Bonet, a dense dark chocolate mousse with crumbled amaretti and mandarin jam.

Bonet with Amaro

Carlo recommended a glass of Amaro San Carlo (‘like me’) as a digestif, a bittersweet drink with flavours of alpine herbs.

Lunch for two came to £47.

He recommended booking for dinner a week in advance. There’s no website, just a Facebook page, so phone and practise your Italian; ask for Carlo, or ask your hotel to call.

Back at home, I watched ‘Searching for Italy’ again.

With the help of subtitles, it was Elisabetta who stole the show:

‘This will be the best Bagna Caôda you will have in your life.

It will resurrect a dead person’.

June 4, 2025

Paris street culture, and a lesson in French slang

After an exhibition at Musée Maillol, we were enjoying an aperitif outside a bar

but we weren’t expecting a spontaneous lesson in slang.

The bar was at a small crossroads in the 7th arrondissement, the embassy district. A squad of armed police appeared on the corner, and started directing traffic.

As a motorcyclist disobeyed his command and drove off, one of the officers shouted –

‘Putain!’

If you’re a fan of the French TV cop show ‘Spiral’ you’ll recognise the word, it peppers the dialogue liberally, but it was the first time I’ve heard it used in real life.

It means everything from an expression of mild irritation to the F Word; probably the latter on this occasion.

In due course the officers stopped all traffic to allow an SUV with blacked out windows to pass at speed unimpeded, escorted by police motorbikes and unmarked cars with blue lights flashing and sirens blaring.

Musée Maillol for some street culture

Musée Maillol is a good gallery to watch for photography exhibitions. We were there to see ‘Instants Données’ (‘Given Moments’), a retrospective of the work of Robert Doisneau.

‘The marvels of daily life are so exciting; no movie director can arrange the unexpected that you find in the street’.

Robert Doisneau, 1912 – 1994.

If you don’t recognise the photographer’s name, you’ll know his style. Starting in the 1930s by capturing the street life of children at school and at play, he went on to portray the hardship of workers in the Renault factory, portraits of artists and writers (famously Picasso and de Beauvoir) and downtrodden drinkers in the bars of Paris, reminiscent of the paintings of Toulouse Lautrec.

The exhibition continues until 12th October 2025.

https://museemaillol.com/expositions/robert-doisneau-instants-donnes/

Hockney 25

Earlier in the week we went on an expedition to the extraordinary, ship-shaped Louis Vuitton Foundation in Bois de Boulogne to see the retrospective that David Hockney regards as the most significant of his career.

Curated by the artist himself, he called in favours from collections around the world to loan significant works.

I had seen two Hockney shows before. In 2019 his works were hung alongside pictures by Van Gogh in Amsterdam; he memorably corrected our impression of Van Gogh as a depressive – ‘if you look at his paintings they’re full of joy’.

Then in 2021 came the exhibition of his iPad paintings at the Royal Academy.

In Paris the story begins with a portrait of the artist’s father, painted when Hockney was just 19, then a room of his early works that reflect his sexuality, still illegal at the time. Hockney is still producing work in his eighties, still innovating, and he’s clearly happiest when he’s working.

There’s his largest work to date, painted in the open air: ‘Bigger Trees near Warter’.

It was made of fifty canvas sections small enough to be transported by car, the oil paint still wet.

In 2019 Covid restrictions stranded Hockney at his home in Normandy. He started producing works every day to send to friends by email.

He was there partly to revisit the Bayeux Tapestry, which influenced his mural of the Norman countryside. The Vuitton Gallery is something of a space age warren, and sadly I missed that room altogether, although with over 400 works to view, it wasn’t a disaster…..

The exhibition closes with his collage of photographs of artworks from the 1400s to the present. They illustrate Hockney’s research that led him to the controversial theory that throughout the history of western art, painters have used optical devices to help them produce work. He applied his practitioner’s eye to reach a convincing conclusion.

Catch Hockney 25 until 31st August 2025:

https://www.fondationlouisvuitton.fr/en/events/david-hockney-25

Postscript from Paris

A feature of the city streets is the engraved plaques commemorating resistance fighters, often unidentified, who were killed in street battles to achieve the liberation of their city in August 1944.

In this anniversary year of Victory in Europe, this poignant memorial in a quiet street in the 7th caught my eye, on my way to the local wine shop.

‘A tribute to Lilian Vera Rolfe.

Born in this building in 1914 and executed in Ravensbrück in 1945.

A radio operator in the service of the British Special Operations Executive, formed in 1940 to support the resistance movements in Europe and to prepare for the landings on 6th June 1944′.

April 2, 2025

Last year in Ljubljana

I promised last November that I had returned.

It is only by diligent pestering (you know who you are) that I have been embarrassed into finally writing about a trip to Ljubljana in January 2024.

It’s the capital of Slovenia, a small country similar in size to the Netherlands. After Slovenian, most people speak English, then Hungarian, German or Italian, depending on which country is their nearest neighbour. My research for the visit led me to this handy guide to Slovenian pronunciation, and I realised that understanding the language wouldn’t be a problem….

I came across a helpful article from The Telegraph, which described Lubljana as ‘the Slovenian mirror-image of Edinburgh’. Much of the city is pedestrianised, so it’s very easy to get around. The main landmark in the centre is the Triple Bridge over the river, with plentiful cafés and bars on the riverside nearby.

We were invited to join a party of 14, organised by friends who had lured us to Stockholm in 2019 and Oslo in 2022, so despite being first timers we knew we would have fun.

It was mid January and Twelfth Night had been and gone, but the city was still decorated for Christmas. I asked a waitress when the decorations would be taken down. She looked puzzled for a moment, then vaguely suggested around the end of the month.

The building behind the Christmas tree (above) is a Franciscan monastery. It has an interesting museum attached, where I saw a photo of monks who were captured by the Gestapo during WW2.

Slovenia became part of Yugoslavia in 1945, and gained independence in 1991. ‘We have no ego’, says a local, ‘we’ve spent so long under the control of other people we’ve never learned to sneer’.

Another museum is dedicated to Joze Plecnik (1872-1957) in his home (below). His influence on Ljubljana has been compared to that of Gaudi on Barcelona. After working in Prague and Vienna he designed the city’s most distinctive buildings, including the Triple Bridge.

We stayed at the Heritage Hotel, Cevljarska Ulica 2, which is centrally located and the reception staff gave us helpful restaurant suggestions.

I particularly enjoyed the buffet breakfasts, with their novelty of a different fruit crumble every day!

Watch this space for recommendations on where to eat in Ljubljana, and features on the central market (I do like a market, and this one didn’t disappoint), a wine tasting at Grajska Vinoteka in Ljubljana Castle; and an expedition to the spectacular Castle Bled, with lunch in its restaurant where the view made be think of the villain’s lair in a Bond film.