Captain's Log, Supplemental.

We are somewhere between Milan & Bologna, listening to all Italian radio has to offer. It seems to be the thing to play obscure tracks by famous artists. 

This morning's breakfast banter covered the idiosyncratic nature of language and the use of Pi in engineering. It's amazing the power of fresh bread, cheese and ham. 

The hotel, very smartly, has an underground car park. Unfortunately, in a manner that is becoming something of a habit, I chose the wrong time to bring the car above ground. I once saw a film ( I seem to recall by Steven Spielberg) about a man who is chased by a mysterious lorry, for no obvious reason. I get into our car and all of a sudden a Frenchman parks in front of me then proceeds to block me in at every step of my egress. This cat & mouse shanangins continues right until we park outside the main entrance of the hotel, at which point he runs into reception laughing all the way. Like the aforementioned film I'm baffled by this. I decide it's the kind of war that nobody can win and load our luggage into the boot.