Roman holiday

Vatican, the world’s smallest state, deserves mention however. If the Church of England thinks its moderately well off, well honestly its Mrs Bouquet to the Catholic Church. We walked around open mouthed, wondering how on earth you would insure such booty, or indeed catalogue it. I am sure a naughty priest could do a runner with some Etruscan and utterly irreplaceable urn and no one would be the wiser. Its just crammed everywhere, all this ancient stuff and more art than you can take. We had queued for what felt like 7 hours all around the edge of the walled city to get into the Vatican Museum, beset by Prada and Gucci handbag sellers (yes of course they’re genuine, mate) and then you find yourself shuffling through rooms 1 through 55 (or was it 255?) smirking at the fig leaves placed very retrospectively on all statues of men over the age of ooh, say 3, in order to get to the big prize: the Sistine Chapel, the Pope’s private prayer place and home to the most famous ceiling in the world. If people had come on pilgrimage then it might have been hard to find a place for quiet contemplation. Despite a rule of silence and no photography, the Chapel was heaving and humming with thousands of happy snappy and loud Japanese. But, like all these things, you have to do it. You just have to look at Michelangelo’s ceiling in awe and imagine the Pope hurling a punch at him after beating down the door to ask “so, how’s it all coming along, then?”

The wealth and the secrecy of the Vatican is staggering, and feels a bit obscene at times. But its certainly awe inspiring. St Peter’s Square is huge and humbling, and the Basilica itself is a fitting tribute to the all powerful. The kids lay on their backs while the sun sent shafts directly onto the altar: it sends shivers up your spine. Whilst supine, the kids noticed lights beneath the grilles in the floor. We had to explore, and found the Papal tombs. Here you can view the final resting places of Popes through the ages, but none more moving than that of John Paul II. It’s very sombre, and real nuns were in evidence for the first time in the city. JPII is held in huge esteem. You can still buy far more of his pictures, calendars, postcards and the like than that of new (or old) Benedict … I particularly liked the holographic card that changed from JPII to the new guy, and of course the pin up calendar of hunky priests with quite mindboggling hats. We argued long and hard about the merits of August over May.

So, we loved Rome. When your beloved suggests a mini break a la Bridget Jones, you couldn’t do much better. Get your scarf on, jump in your convertible, but don’t go jumping in the Trevi Fountain. They’ve had quite enough of that since La Dolce Vita, grazie.

Finally, Rome held the richest treasure of all – far beyond Marcus Aurelius’ walls or Hadrian’s tomb. Yes dear friends, it had … Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix in English, on July 11th. We were nearly wetting ourselves when we found the English language cinema and could SEE the big one, two days before its UK and US premiere. Ah, you may call us urbane. Yes, it’s only a film. But as far as us five were concerned, Rome put itself firmly in the favourite place category by giving us this unexpected and TOTALLY AWESOME surprise.