We took the bus from Bergamo to Edolo, a town in the mountains of north east Italy. The bus didn’t leave until 2.30 pm so we had to sit around in a park for much of the day. And when we got to the bus stand, it was very crowded. The ulimate denoument however was having to wile away the hours and then get on a bus driven by a total maniac.

He seemed to think that his bus was a car. I’ve never been in a bus accelerating so fast and then pulling up at the last minute centimetres from the vehicle in front. And once we left the outer suburbs of Bergamo, he pulled out all the stops. It’s been a long time since I have felt so uncomfortable – afraid – in a bus and over the years, we have done innumerable bus journeys.

Not only did this guy drive very fast, he also drove with one hand using to the other to hold his phone and talk – yell – to his various contacts – all the while with his foot planted on the accelerator. He went through red lights, swirved through corners and on two occassions, there were altercations with other enraged car drivers, when he was forced to stop before a bank up of traffic and they got out of their cars and threatened him. There were yelling matches and abuse, but it made no difference to his dangerous and crazy driving.

I was thankful when he got stuck on a mountain road behind a slow moving truck.

Finally in the last hours of the day we stopped at Edolo and I pretty glad about that for more reasons than one.

We got down with our rucksacks and took in the scene before us and everything seemed to fall into place: