I said I wasn't going to post any more pictures of stunning views. I'm afraid I was lying. Not bad for a cheap camera phone, this one, although the raw material it had to work with was breathtaking:

We took an early morning 3km walk up steep inclines to Villa Jovis, former residence of the Emperor Tiberius in something like 50AD. Thus it was awfully old, and in some state of disrepair. The Romans certainly didn't build their residences to last, did they, not like Mont Blanc & their fountain pens, for instance. In fact, I'd go as far to say that the buildings had become ruined by centuries of neglect, which presumably what gives them the name ruins. We spent a while imagining where people might have stood, slept, cooked, or indulged in displays of gymnastic sex for the pleasure of the pervy old Emperor. He actually ruled the Roman Empire from this place, apparently sending signals by fire to the mainland in order to dispense various edicts. I can't imagine how this could have worked. One flash for keep building roads, two for invade Gaul, what? I can only assume that the real person running the Roman Empire at that time was the chap interpreting the signals over in Sorrento. And do we know his name? No, we do not.

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I don't know about the incidence of heart attacks in Italy as opposed to the UK, but I have to say that this “long lunches” thing is something I could get used to. Clocking off at 1pm, coming back at 4, working till about 6.30, strolling home. The only problem with this is when you decide you could really do with a packet of bread sticks at about 2pm. The main supermarket in Capri obviously adheres to these opening hours, too, leaving a gaping hole in the middle of the day where no groceries are available to the general public. Visiting local supermarkets is an important part of going abroad, so we hung around until opening time, and eventually took to the aisles to gaze at unfamiliar tins, oddly shaped vegetables, and ultimately hoping for that Holy Grail of the amusingly named product to photograph and show to the reader(s) of this journal. But I have to warn you, there was slim pickings here in Capri. No “Plopp” chocolate, as I have enjoyed in Sweden, and no Spunky milkshake, or Shit crisps, which I hope both exist somewhere. For a while I thought the best I could do was this:

Which, you have to admit, isn't even vaguely amusing, and in the end I had to settle for this, a horrible slim plastic snip-pack of cubes of tuna. “Ideal for salads”, it says on the side of the pack. Yes, crap salads.