Romantic? I don't think so.

It may not have escaped your notice that a certain Mr Clooney got married this week.  Heck, even my relatively staid morning broadsheet has printed picture after picture the last three days so if this world-shattering (ha!) event has passed you by, you must be living in a cave.  Frankly, the whole circus - for that is what it seems to have been - is of no interest to me whatsoever.  Quite why such a large proportion of the female population has been oohing and aahing is way beyond my understanding.  After all, what has the said Mr Clooney got that I haven't?  Apart from a few millions, that is.  But I suppose there are those who might think him a little better looking than me. . .

His wedding was a far cry from my own, fifty years ago this coming Friday.  (And yes, I have bought her a card, possibly the first time I have ever done that for a wedding anniversary.)  We were married in the red-brick church almost opposite the Young Bat's family home, the reception was in a room over a pub, and our honeymoon was in Somerset.

The Grand Canal

I did take to Old Bat to Venice once.  In conversation with a fellow Lion before we went, he told us that Venice is the most romantic city in the world.  I'm sure he hasn't visited all of them just to check, but in any case I disagree.  I didn't really find the city that romantic.  Granted, the Grand Canal has a certain charm and the fact that there are no roads makes the place interesting, but I thought it run down, almost falling into the water, and there was way too much graffiti.

A little less romantic!

 It perhaps didn't help that St Mark's square was flooded when we got there.  This was part of the queu to go into the cathedral.  We didn't bother but went for a coffee in Café Florian.