Once we’d recovered from lugging the bags up to our 4th Floor apartment, it was time to explore and eat, because it felt a long a long time since breakfast. The big mistake I regularly make is bowling up to places and expecting that we’ll be the only people interested in eating there at peak time on a Friday night. Given the amount of reading round the subject I do on where to eat/drink etc I don’t leave too much to chance in terms of quality, so why don’t I just reserve a table. I think it’s because Catering doesn’t like to over plan or feel we aren’t being spontaneous (little does he know), so I do the research and then walk us around a place ending up at my preferred choice of restaurant, which he usually agrees to, only to find it’s fully booked. Our choices then are usually a) wait and return when they have a table free (we are invariably plastered by then having wandered off to pour more alcohol on empty stomachs) or b) go with an alternative (usually inferior) eating establishment, this option has the capacity to turn me quite grumpy.

Anyway, after a walk around checking out the sunset + an aperitivo pit stop, we arrived at my pre-selected fish restaurant only to be sent away for an hour and a half. It was tough, but a bottle of wine later we got part of a table in a side street at the fried fish restaurant I had set my heart on – happy days.

Sun setting on Trapani Old Town & Catering

More sunset – no Catering

What do you mean you are fully booked – there were people literally squatting on the kerb so that they could eat – not an option we could contemplate given Catering’s dodgy knees!

That’s OK, we can wait and drink at a bar round the corner

So when we finally returned, ready to eat our fingers if needs be, we discovered they sell the fried fish by the metre or half metre board.

We settled for a half metre in the end, with chips (probably unnecessary)

Catering inherently suspicious of any wine that doesn’t arrive in a bottle, but the half litre jug was actually perfectly acceptable, given we had already had a “while you’re waiting” bottle down the road.

It was all going swimmingly well until we remembered we had 12 flights of stairs to climb to get to bed.