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About Turin

Little fact for ya – back in Victorian times, they called ‘em “soiled doves,” ain’t that posh? Fuckin’ mental, history’s wild. Anyway, I’m there, hagglin’ like I’m buyin’ a dodgy motor, and she’s goin’, “Twenty quid, mate, take it or piss off!” Laughed me arse off – she’s got balls, fair play. Reminds me o’ that line, “This is my place!” – she owned that street corner like Yubaba owns the bathhouse, y’know?

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After that, I decide to hit up the local market on Via del Rivo. It’s buzzing with life! Fresh fruits, veggies, and all the locals are chatting away. I grab some prosciutto and cheese—classic Terni style, right? But then, I see this old lady, Nonna Rosa, trying to haggle for some tomatoes. She’s fierce! I’m talking full-on negotiation skills. I’m just standing there, munching on my cheese, thinking, “This lady could teach a masterclass in bargaining.”

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