The Day in the life of Tony Cliffe

The blog that's full of discussion, advice, travel and ramblings!

Month: December, 2019

December 31, 2019

2010-2019 the decade of change and achievement

2019…The end of a terrific year but also the end of what has been quite the decade! Looking back on the past decade it’s actually been quite the whirlwind. If my 2010 self was to read what I was to do and become in the next nine years, I don’t quite think he’d believe it. I’ve been on a journey of transformation, I’m a million miles away from that jaded and lost boy in 2010. 2010 me was I feel looking back, an outsider who never really fitted in. Present but vacant, slightly out of sync with everyone else. Someone who knew what they wanted to be but was not in a place where they could be that. I started the decade, lost.

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Some Happier 2010 times!

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Some Happier 2010 times!

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Some Happier 2010 times!

Its been well documented those who have followed me on this journey from day one about my disdain for sixth form and what went on in a particular classroom. This blog, while a million miles away from those early days of blog writing as a release and as a weapon, has its roots from the immaturity of sixth form. My passion for writing blogs was born out of that shitshow. There were many gems from Maricourt but there was a toxic group that I could not wait to leave behind.

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Life was better at Uni!

My life got significantly better when at the start of the decade I went to University. I had felt like I was hemmed in, in school. Learn hard, put the effort in, get the grades, get out. That’s what school was to me. One of my standout moments of this decade was and will always be that first-year residential field trip to Slapton in Feb of 2011. This decade I’ve had a few vital and pivotal moments where if I had chosen the other side of the coin, the other decision, life would be vastly different today. The first of that, was that February night on a cold, windswept Slapton beach. I still remember it vividly, the fresh sea breeze that tickled your face, the gentle and rhythmic pulse of the distant lighthouse casting a beam of light across the sand. Looking up and taking in a deep breath of air, exhaling and watching it disappear into the most unbelievably clear sky I had ever seen. It felt like the entire universe was out that night, the bluest of blue stars twinkled above like diamonds.

Before that night, I was ready to quit University. I had made up my mind, it wasn’t for me. I wasn’t challenged enough, I was constantly ill, I hated the commute. I was all but done. This first-year field trip was in my mind, a swansong. It just turned out to my surprise to be the start of an epic journey in academia. That night as we pulled up some driftwood and sat on large boulders, laughing and sharing stories into the night. I suddenly realised that with this group of people, we were all broken in some way and for the first time in my life, that wasn’t an issue. For the first time in such a long time, I had people around me who actually didn’t care about who you are or where in high school. They all had flaws as did I, and they didn’t care. They were human. I formed friendships that night that have lasted the sands of time. That field trip changed everything. I fell back in love with Geography because of that field trip, I realised that I could be who I wanted to be here, with these people.

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Sitting here now having completed a BSc, an MSc and recently a PhD, it seems crazy to me that I was so close to giving up all of that if it wasn’t for that goddamn beach and the chats that night. Not to forget Susan (you had to be there).

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Undergraduate years of 2010-2013 was a period of some crazy emotions. Once I committed to academic life, I found a place I could call home. I found something I was good at and oh boy it was one hell of a good time! Every day in Uni was a laugh with my Uni pals, Anthony, Alex, Mary, Hannah, Chloe, Stacey. The latter, well we all know how that particular episode of the decade turned out. I had fallen in love.  I let my walls down 100% again for someone for the first time in a few years and for those two years it was awe-inspiring, it was beautiful and it was terrifying all at the same time. As time has passed and the wounds have healed, I can look back on those times with a real warm glow. Now longer jaded by heartache and bitterness.  I owe her a lot for building the foundations of the person I am today. There are a lot of aspects of me today that define me that were unlocked by her. For one small example, cooking. I couldn’t cook beans on toast before I met her and would never venture outside of any dish that wasn’t made in the British isles! Yet with an Italian passion for food, that was unlocked in me. Food and cooking is a huge part of who I am now. I love to cook and I’m always cooking food for family and friends and dishes from all over the world!

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Then in 2013, as I was feeling on top of the world…it all came crashing down. The rug was whipped from under my feet. The breakup hit me out of the blue and knocked me for six for years! 2013-14 was brutal. I was depressed, everything was a struggle. Looking back now, I see why I struggled so much with it. As a very guarded person, I felt like I was betrayed when I let all of my walls down, the real emotional me was vulnerable and to then have that heart stood on in the fashion that she did was tough. Did it help that she got with the guy she was ‘just friends with at the party’ that I didn’t go to, two weeks after she broke it up out of the blue? No. No, it didn’t. Did it also help my recovery that we shared every class together and friendship group for that final year? No, that didn’t help either.

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Happier times in 2013

Truth be told though I was seething, I was angry, I was hurt. But actually, I was mad at myself. I am an achiever. It’s what I do, I set a goal and I will achieve it. I have a long list of honours, accolades and achievements. Yet, one had always evaded me. I would trade in all of my awards to just be loved by someone, to grow old with them and to have my own family. When she ended it, to me, it was a colossal failure on my part. It’s something that I did or didn’t do, it was my fault in some way is how I perceived it. I had a taste of that ultimate goal for it to no longer exist. It was tough.

2013 was by far the most challenging year of the decade for me. A week after I was hit by that out of the blue break up, I was informed that my eyes where 0.5 outside of the limit for becoming an Air Traffic Controller. A dream job that I had worked towards ever since I was little. My choices in school and even degree level were all geared up towards becoming an Air Traffic Controller. It’s all I ever wanted to do. In the space of 7 days, I had lost two dreams, out of the blue. I was once again, lost.

From 2010 to the start of 2013, I had discovered for the most part who I was as a person. I grew very self-assured of myself. 2013 knocked me right back to 2010. I didn’t know me anymore. I had spent years having such confidence in myself to looking in the mirror and not even recognising who I was. Every day was an effort. Academia became a lifeline again, amongst all of this dissertations had begun. The only way out of this hole I thought was to put everything into that dissertation. One last hurrah. Do well in this, get a good degree, build myself back up again, reinvent me again. I used all those emotions of anger and hurt and turned them into productivity. Which worked. I aced that dissertation and in the process fell in love with research. I was selected to go and present it at the biggest undergraduate conference in Plymouth. Backed by my supervisor and my friends, I didn’t think I was worthy but they believed. They pushed me to do it. From the back of that, I was selected to present that research in Parliament and came in the top 20 UK undergraduate researchers of the year. Not bad work for when I was at my lowest. That was the slow road to recovery.

Final year was a slog, but I finished with a 2:1. The goal was done. I had never felt prouder than that first graduation day, looking back at the certificate. It didn’t to me denote a degree, whenever I think back to my BSc days, it indicates all those made changes in my life, the soaring highs and greatest of lows. To me, it reminds me that I’m glad that I have that no matter how shit I feel, I have that inner stubbornness that just will never, ever, give up. No matter how much the odds are stacked against me. You pick yourself up, you keep working hard, you never give up.

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2014 and 15 were all about my Masters Things they never tell you about when starting a Masters Degree. Because I was still recovering from 2013 I don’t think at the time I really appreciated those years for what they were. A period of reflection, rebuilding, rebranding, regrowing. By the time our first residential to the desert in October came around, I saw the MSc as a new start. That summer I had clarity, I had dealt with a lot of stuff, I for the first time actually accepted me for me. I now knew what I wanted out of life and one of those things was to collect degrees. I loved research, I wanted to become a researcher. I wanted to help people in a way that I knew I could, via research. The MSc was academically very challenging but I adored that challenge. Being pushed every day intellectually was fun! It was such a great topic to study and my fellow classmates where legends. I feel really bad that we all never really stayed in touch but they were so perfect for that part of my life. I am grateful for every single one of them. That desert field trip without a doubt is the funniest field trip I have ever been on. God, I loved that course!2014…a year of rebuilding and success!

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2015 came another of those giant what-if moments, those crossroad decisions, a flip of a coin, a fork in the road of life. I’d finished my Masters, I’m now healed, I’m back to myself, I have the whole world ahead of me. Then the two jobs come at once. 29k 3 year contract in Nottingham with a global consultancy firm, or a 16k part-time tempory one year job as a research assistant. I was utterly torn between the logically me and the emotional me. Head and my Dad, wherein the consultancy job. No question. Financial security, job security, job progression, independence, moving out, new city. Yet, my heart wasn’t in it. I had fallen in love from Undergrad with research, but it was a lot of work, it didn’t pay well and there was no guarantee it would last longer than a year. I was conflicted, my parents were conflicted. Take the Nottingham job and I would be leaving home, I’d be leaving Liverpool, my life and I’d be on a career path in environmental consultancy.

On the other hand, take the RA job, stay at home but do something I was madly passionate about and really enjoyed but for pretty crap pay.

Then that talk at the river happened. Both of us, me and Chloe at a crossroads in life, both with massive decisions to make. Chloe, I have no doubt is my guardian angel. At the beach in Slapton, there during the hard times, there again at the river now a big life decision was to be made. My confidant, my guiding light, my soundboard. I summed Chloe up and the rest of my close friends up so well in this blog here:My dedication to the inner circle! After hours for the first time in a while, I had clarity over that decision. My mind was made up all because of her, I made the decision. I declined the consultancy job and for the first time ever the logical me went with my heart. I took the RA job. I turned onto the path of academia which has led me to where I am today.

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2015-2016 where the RA years (My 2016, a cracking year! ) (My Facebook status’ of the year and what a story it tells of 2015.) An incredibly rewarding, stressful, intense training I could ever receive being an RA in the department. I thought my development rate was staggering from BSc to MSc, but as an RA, I developed more in those years there than I had all the other years combined. I adored that job, as much as it was mental! It cemented to me that this is what I wanted to do as a career now. The research was home, I had found not where I expected to be but clearly where I was meant to be. I worked on a vast amount of projects, learnt so much and got to work with the most incredibly supportive colleagues a young RA could ever ask for! I was pushed to my limits and beyond in that job. It only became apparent when I started my PhD how much training I had unknowingly been through as the departments RA. I was a seasoned researcher soldier by the time the PhD wars came. I felt like a general when I walked into PhD life. To this day, those intense years where the best in terms of training for research and my career and it put me in a great position.

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Here we go again, three-year cycles in life, all going well and here comes the downer. Funding cuts across the University. RAs well we’re disposable. First to be cut was me. Here I am again, back at this familiar road. Find something I’m good at and I like and here comes something to take it away. Oddly, I was different this time. The disappointment didn’t come as a surprise, things were going too well so I was expecting this to occur. But more than that, after so many disappointments and setbacks in my life I was just like meh, okay, it’s another one, I’ll deal with it like I always do. No worries! I was gutted to be leaving the department but I also felt that maybe this was a blessing in disguise. A new chance to see this as rather than a setback, a new adventure, a new challenge. Since 2013 I’ve had the mindset of turning negatives into positives, even if that is only a small positive. I had learnt all that I could there, I couldn’t progress without a PhD. So PhD it is.

I’ve always been a firm believer that if you have the right attitude in life, if you work hard, then you build a door. If you do that, then life will give you opportunities and if you’ve worked hard and in the right way, then the opportunity will come and knock at that door that you’ve built. The day after I was told I was going to be unemployed, the PhD scholarship at LJMU was posted. My boss saw it, sent it to me. I quote “Jesus Tony, this PhD looks like it’s been written for you! Drones in fieldwork! You should apply”. There was an opportunity, knocking very loudly! I was so very nearly not going to apply until my work mum Sara knocked some sense into me (one of the very many unsung heroes of this decade for me! Thank you Sara!). I applied, did the interview, got the scholarship and the rest is history as they say!

2016-2019 and that’s where we end this decade. The PhD years. These past three years would never have happened without that decision way back in 2010 or that one in 2015. It’s a weird life when you think about it. If I had my way, I like to think I would have been an air traffic controller now, with a wife and maybe a kid. But life has a funny way of getting you where you need to be, not where you want to be. Here I am, in 2019, as a Doctor. I never thought or even entertained the thought that one day I would be Dr Cliffe, I’d be an editor of a Journal and a Senior Lecturer at 27 years old. Yet, for all of that journey, I am immensely proud that I am here. That I never gave up and that I feel I am where I’m meant to be right now. The past three years have undoubtedly been the best of the decade. I have so much love for my time on the PhD and the people who were in it My final day and my goodbye. I have grown again as a person to someone who I feel is the best and most rounded version of me there has ever been. The past three years have been the most intellectually challenging journey. It’s also been the most personally challenging as I’ve worked towards the highest academic qualification you can get. It’s been a fabulous time, especially all the friendships, relationships and travel that it brought me!

However, the past three years would not have been possible without my fellow PGRs, especially H105. They have been my rock throughout all of this! Friends that I know I will have forever! The battle of the Viva and my ode to H105  A perfect weekend: A wedding and Friendships Yet, they’re not alone in my thoughts as I look back on this decade. You see, for every fail and trust me I have 1000 fails to every one of my successes. You see, whether I’ve failed or I’ve achieved I’ve never been alone. I’ve had people in my life for those ten years who’ve been through everything, I’ve had people who’ve come and gone. Each time was leaving a piece of them with me that has changed me. People have left me with positives and some with lessons. I’ve had so many unsung heroes on this journey, so many people who when I lost faith, put their faith in me. I’ve had the most amazing mentors who backed me when I didn’t back myself, who pushed me beyond my perceived limits to see what I was truly capable of. This decade is littered with the most amazing, kind-hearted, dedicated, and loyal people I have ever met. I have had friends like Chloe, Emma, Hannah, Luke, Laura, Vic, Katie, the list goes on who have stood by me through thick and thin. Who has never waivered, who always believe in me and what I stand for. Without out, I wouldn’t be possible.

I feel as I end this decade that I am incredibly wealthy in terms of the company that I now keep. 2010 me was a lost boy who didn’t fit in. 2019 me is a man who has found a home, a family. I may not be where I thought I would be, but I’m where I feel I’m meant to be.

Let’s see what the new decade holds, 2010-2010 was the decade of achievement…I’m ready for the adventure of this new decade. What it will be called I guess I’ll find out in 10 years, but I am ready for it to be written!

 

Decade of Achievement

  • A – Levels
  • UK’s first parliamentary school speaker award winner
  • UK Good Citizen of the year award
  • BSc Geography
  • Novel published on Amazon
  • Top 20 UK undergraduate researchers (2013)
  • MSc Sustainability
  • Outstanding Academic Support staff overall winner 2016
  • Editor of IJSaP
  • 4 papers published
  • PhD
  • Driving Licence
  • Senior Lecturer
  • Deputy Chair of Ethics
  • Post Graduate Assessment Officer

 

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December 22, 2019

Lake Como and Monza Part 1

With the August rain hammering against the steamed windows of the local coffee shop, and in between the clinks and whoosh of cups and espresso machines I sat down for a long overdue catch up with my good friend Shaun. Shaun, I’ve known since High School and since we left that place many years ago we’ve always stayed in touch and our social meetups often involved two wheels. We’d cycled over Ireland together, the Isle of Man and would spend most weekends in a variety of weather, laughing and joking on our cycle rides. Yet, this was the first time in a year I’d seen him! Busy work commitments, my focus on finishing my PhD and a series of injuries this year meant neither of us had ventured out onto our bikes in a year, and our usual rides and catch-ups had been absent, except for the odd message here and there.

It was good to catch up, we had a lot to catch up on! Towards the end as the last drops of coffee dripped down the side of the cup, he asks “Fancy doing the Italian Grand Prix in a few weeks time, mate?”. Within 24 hours and many phone calls and messages later, flights, tickets, apartment were booked, and a rough itinerary agreed. We were off to Monza!

Monza is an iconic grand Prix, in fact, it’s the fastest Formula One GP on the calendar. One of the iconic historic tracks, along with Silverstone. I hadn’t made an F1 trip for a few years, I’ve spent many a coin in Silverstone and even abroad to Valencia for the now-defunct European GP race with my Bro Luke. A trip I remember fondly, having a holiday based around an F1 race is undoubtedly a good excuse as any to getaway! Truth be told, I needed the break. Since finishing the PhD I haven’t actually been away anywhere, and Italy was a place, despite my many travels, I hadn’t been to. Add to the fact that I hadn’t been away at all in 2019 (which for me is shocking! In 2017 I went away for a week or more every month, including Iceland and Canada and in 2018 another busy travel year with the highlights being Croatia, Switzerland and Norway) so I was desperate to get travelling again.

We agreed that we’d base ourselves out of the more expensive Lake Como (a place that is consistently on travel sites as the must-visit places in Italy) rather than the cheaper Bergamo, for a few logistical reasons. The flights were sold out on the Friday and the Monday to and from Milan in Manchester, with to my surprise, Ryanair being the only one to offer a daily flight to Milan from the North West. With Ryanair being Ryanair, their airport called Milan isn’t actually in Milan at all but situated in a town called Bergamo, an hours drive from Milan! So that meant a Thursday to Tuesday trip, five days we agreed in Bergamo was a bit too much. As pretty as Bergamo looked, five days would be a tall order, despite how cheap it was, i.e. £100 each for five nights! Also, to get to Monza, we’d have to get a 40-minute train into Milan and then another 40-minute train to Monza, with everyone else. Which would be chaos, especially after the race with everyone else heading to Milan. A bit of research and Como would be an hours drive to Milan from Bergamo and then a 40-minute train to Como. To get to Monza would only be a 20-minute train each day, going against the flow of everyone else. So we decided on that, plus Como has a hell of a lot more to do!

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Ready for Italy!

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With an 8 a.m. flight, we were off to Europe after a godawful .4 a.m. start and drive to Manchester (thanks for the lift as always to the legend that is my Dad!). Manchester is still a lousy airport to travel through, but it was for once, rather painless. We did laugh as we boarded the priority queue with every else on the plane doing the same, only 4 people were not priority! It was something out of a Come Fly With Me sketch! After an hours sleep on the plane, I woke up as we were flying over Switzerland, the blue lakes and Alps reaching up towards us through the clouds. As we descended further, we flew into Italy, across the sprawling Lake Como, over the airport before hooking left onto the approach. There is a joke in the Aviation Community about Ryanair pilots being Carrier pilots, along with plenty of youtube compilation clips. On arrival, we hit the runway so hard I thought the struts were going to erupt through the wings. Brutal.

On landing, however, is one of life’s best moments, that blast of heat and sun as you walk outside of the plane. That sure-fire sign that you’re finally on holiday! We had left 9c and arrived in 26c and blue skies, the alps glimmering in the distance. Yaas! We were off the plane and through immigration and waiting for our bag all within 5 minutes. Why any Brexiteer wants to stand in a non-Eu Queue for years is beyond me, but then again I guess they wouldn’t holiday in Europe would they? That would be a bit hypocritical! After getting our bags, we walked out of the busy terminal and into the simmering sun to find a bus. To get to Como, we had to get into Milan’s central train station and then catch a train to Switzerland which stopped at Como, the final stop before the border. Lucky, despite Bergamo being an hours drive from Milan, all the other low-cost airlines use Milan-Bergamo airport and therefore there is no shortage of bus companies offering one-way tickets between the airport and Milan station for between 5 and 8 euros.

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Next stop, Lake Como

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We were ushered onto a coach by an Italian Will.i.am including glasses and jaunty hat, paid him our 7 euros and basked in the relief from the sun in the air-conditioned cabin. The hour drive on the motorway and through villages was an excellent way to appreciate some of the countryside. However, what was a shock to both Shaun and me is how utterly terrible Milan looks. I expected Milan to be a beautiful Italian city, in reality, it gave off the vibe of an old eastern bloc town. It looked incredibly rundown, litter everywhere and most surprisingly, every building and sign had graffiti on it. Every. Single. One! Outside of the station as we got off the coach, with 60s prefab office buildings with a broken window and a scruffy park with beggars in it. Wow. This was not what I was expecting. I am sure there are parts of Milan which are beautiful, but the first impressions were less than impressive. We scurried inside of the mayhem of Milan central station. A huge station with over 28 platforms on numerous levels, going all over Italy and into Switerzland and France. After struggling to find our train and using Google translate we eventually bought our ticket, a whole 3.20 euro! Train travel is dirt cheap here! We spent ages trying to find our train, my go-to Google Maps had a train leaving, but the final destination was not the one on the board. In the end, we asked someone which train for Como. “Platform 5. Run”. We were at this point, on Platform 23 and the train was leaving in 5 minutes. We walked or maybe jogged with our rattling suitcases behind us, dodging the hoards of people. We managed to just bundle ourselves onto the train before it moved off Northwards towards Switzerland. Dripping in sweat but we made it!

As we rattled northwards, swaying in the aisles and being incredibly hot, an English family sitting down next to us asked us if we were off to Monza. We were indeed! We had a great chat as we heading through the Italian countryside. They were staying in Milan and were getting off at Monza to work out how long it would take over the next three days, they were sitting in the expensive seats in the Parabolica whereas Shaun and I were doing the far cheaper option of General Admission (£450 vs £98). We pulled up eventually into Monza station, bid farewell to them and then quickly took their seats (weirdly enough we’d bump into them again on race day!).

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After 40 minutes on the train, next stop Como Giaovani station pinged on the tannoy. Como came into view, the coloured buildings clinging to the mountainside, the glimmering lake, the sprawling city below. We had finally arrived!

Exiting the station I phoned the number I was given for our apartment, through broken English and my poor Italian we managed to work out that we’d both arrive in 20 minutes or so. With the phone away, we set off through the town to the apartment on the other side of this lavish place. It had started to cloud over slightly, high wispy clouds increasing the humidity making the 26c heat uncomfortable, especially in jeans, a backpack and lugging a suitcase around. Instantly, the vibe of Como was a world away from Milan. Clean ancient buildings, tree-lined narrow cobbled streets, architecture wherever you looked. Stunning. We weaved in and out of small narrow roads, the buildings close in each decorated with sprawling, green ivy or flower boxes, the different coloured wooden shutters adorning the windows.

Cafes tumbled out into the street, clinks of glasses, laughter and hurried waiters taking orders drifted through the air. Turn another corner, and a square so often found in Europe comes into view. Grand buildings, the hustle and bustle, more cafes. Exiting the square back through more narrow streets, a man with a pin-sharp suit races past on a vesper, followed by a woman on a pushbike with a basket on the front. Stops and enters one of the grocery stores with bright coloured fruit and veg that formed a mountain inside the crates that were stacked against the shop. The smell enticing you in. Another turn, another square, a gigantic cathedral, comes into view. Impressive. Everything about this place was impressive. Another glance at Google Maps, not far to go. A jaunt across the train tracks and taking our life into our hands crossing the main busy road in Como and we arrived outside of our apartment block.

There wasn’t much for us to do except wait for whoever it was to turn up. An odd thing staying in apartments when you’re on holiday, you’re relying on a complete stranger. You don’t know who they are, what they look like, will they murder you or not? I assumed by the 8.6 ratings on Booking.com that I wasn’t going to be killed, but you never know. While we did wait, I gasped in glee as an old Lancia Abarth roared past me. A true iconic Italian rally car. You couldn’t get any more Italian of seeing a Lancia, in Como. All that was missing was the tune of On Days Like These by Matt Monroe. We got a real feel for the “don’t drive in Italy” message that so many people go on about. They go on about it because they’re batshit crazy drivers. We watched in amazement and horror of Fiat 500’s shifting down gears and darting in and out of traffic to make places up. Scrambler bikes and mopeds weaved in and out, overtaking, undertaking, traffic lights being a suggestion rather than a rule. Ferrari, Lamborghini, Maseratti, supercar after supercar, their roaring engines echoing off the walls. This place was crazy!

The latter shouldn’t have surprised me much, this place is the go-to summer getaway for the rich. In fact, not only is it one of the most expensive real estate places in Italy but the entire world! The who’s who of people have homes here. I can see why. The lake takes 2 hours by boat end to end, and if it was anything like the bottom, Como, then I can totally see why the rich choose to have their fancy villas dotted all along this gigantic lake. If you could afford to, why would you not? We were eventually greeted by two young students, whether they owned this place or worked for some rich guy who did I don’t know but after showing us around and signing a few papers over we got our keys to a fabulous apartment. Two beds, a kitchen and an unbelievable view outside of our first-floor balcony. Oh, how we’d make us of that this trip!

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Apartment balcony views!

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A quick unpack and we headed out to stock up the fridge with food and beer, mostly beer. I had fallen in love with this place already, it was everything I hoped Lake Como would be. Grand, luxurious, charming but stunningly beautiful. Italian architecture at it’s best. Wow, it felt good to be on my travels again! We took a walk down to the lake first, amazed by the view and how James Bond it all felt as a private Sea Plane took off from a villa and made its way skyward. This is the life! Before stepping into the supermarket, we took a little stop in one of the many cafes in this town, enjoying the warmth and the local beer. I tell you that went down a treat in that heat!

After spending our time browsing inside and then exiting the supermarket, I commented to Shaun how dark it suddenly felt. Those of you who know me know I do a lot of weather stuff, particularly storms and oh boy my storm senses were tingling. In the relatively short space of time the clouds had rolled in, the sun no longer visible, the still air now slowly increasing in speed with a coolness to it. The rain was coming, but the sky always has that look, those telltale signs of instability in the atmosphere. “I reckon it’s going to thunder soon, mate. I have a feeling this place is going to blow in a big way”. Shaun probably thought I was a bit dramatic, to him yeah it had slowly clouded over, but there were no black clouds on the horizon, the wind was gentle if not cooling, but it was  ..6 p.m. now, of course, it would be cool. What is Tony going on about!?

We got back to the room and relaxed for a bit before setting about making our tea. To which we realised that we didn’t actually buy any oil for the frying pan, so tea was out of the question. Doh! Annoyingly when the apartment said Kitchen I expected the usual, fridge, sink, hob and oven but it had everything bar an oven or a grill, the only cooking appliance being a hob. A culinary challenge that would turn out to be to create a few hob only dishes! “Fuck. We forgot the oil!” … “ha! Shall we go for that classic Italian dish? McDonald’s?” “Yeah! Why not, we’ll cook tomorrow!”

We ventured back into Como and found a McDonalds, which was the grandest McDonalds I had ever stepped foot in! Using the self-service machine, I browsed the menu. Italian Mcies is far superior, loads more choice, including loaded fries and instead of water or coke, you could order beer! What!? A large chicken nugget meal and hamburger for me for similar prices here. The only problem with self-service is you better hope you know that languages numbers when they call them. We didn’t, so we hung around the front of the service area, and when they shouted if no one claimed it, it was probably ours. We gingerly showed our ticket each time; eventually, I got mine and then Shaun got his Grand Mac which was huge! We step outside, and suddenly all hell was breaking loose. I was right, a storm was brewing and it was close! Everyone else had started to make their way indoors while us typical brits sat outside as the rain began to fall, lightning forked across the sky in the distant alps, the claps of thunder rattling the old town and the wind howled.

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Lightning!

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I love thunder and lightning storms, I absolutely adore them, but I respect them. Sitting outside in what was quickly becoming one of the most intense lightning storms I had ever witnessed was not our best idea. I promptly ate mine, fighting to stop my fries being launched into the wind. Another clap and flash of thunder, closer, much much closer than before. Over the roar of the wind “How much you got left to eat mate?” I enquire, as another crack of thunder this time overhead. “Errrm, still my grand mac mate!”. We both burst into laughter. He hadn’t even touched his grand mac yet! Whether it was the fear of being killed in one of the most intense lightning storms this place has ever seen, I don’t know, but we laughed about that for ages. How he ate that and didn’t throw up from laughing, I’ll never know. Another rip in the air. It really was time to go. We walked back to the apartment, opened a few cans of beer and watched as the heavens indeed opened and one of the most magnificent, awe-inspiring and frightening thunder and lightning storms light up the ever-darkening sky. We sat in the safety of the balcony watching constant flashes of lightning, a frequency I had never experienced before, forking across the sky, waves of rain, rivers running in the streets.

We stayed outside for hours as the storm got more and more intense, daytime turned to night, not that we noticed much as the flashes continued to go off, the wind continued to gust and howl in the powerful downdrafts of the supercell. But watching nature at her most beautiful and most potent while looking out at a lit-up cathedral with a beer in hand was actually a pretty sweet way to end our first day in Como.

By time  ..11 p.m. came, with the storm finally showing signs of moving away in the distance, we called it quits. Shut the balcony up and got into bed. Little did we know, however, that the storm we had just witnessed was an appetiser, to the real storm that was just behind it. It would make itself known in the early hours of the morning, in a massive way!

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Part 2 soon!

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