Soon the lamb is rotating on its skewer, chicken is sizzling on the grill and falafel burbling in the deep-fryer (the cart is a symphony of efficient design, without an inch of wasted space).
I didn't want to go back to my silent little room, with Ilaria's news program burbling down the corridor, its ghostly echoes of Sam, and the temptation to check my e-mail every fifteen minutes.