The barman returned with bad news, he had ducked across the road to the nearby pastry shop only to find they were sold out. He shrugged in that theatrical Italian way. Maybe a bambino pizza ? It was 11am… maybe not. I looked around me, I’m the only other drinking coffee, the locals were all at various stages of downing their first birre of the day. Not in a hurry mind you for they had nothing to do, nowhere to go, only gossip to inhale. I decided on a cappuccino hoping the sweetness might fulfil my sugary urge and I had 100 kms to ride. The locals looked on in disdain at my frothy drink. I felt their eyes on me as I paid my few coins and remounted my bike, I hadn’t cut it today maybe tomorrow ?
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