retiredmartin

February 2026. Turin.

We woke up on that first morning in Turin feeling a bit like this;

I felt sorry (not sorry) for Mrs RM, who had gone pint, pint, half litre of white wine, pint of Leffe.

Luckily I Reali Bed & (sort of) Breakfast had a coffee machine, but even after five espressos neither of us felt like doing the day trip we’d spent the previous night planning.

A day walking, slowly, and definitely no pubs ever again. Let’s eat tick those chocolates !

“McDonalds finally found us, and we’re folklore in Turin”.

Ian McNabb sang those immortal lines in this modern political classic forty years ago,

a rage about the death of Liverpool under Thatcherism and its reputation after Heysel.

But though both cities saw populations plummet in the ’80s with the loss of industry, Turin has had the most spectacular drop,

a fall of a quarter in a generation. No wonder those streets look so quiet.

In contrast Liverpool has seen rapid growth, 10% this century, with one of the youngest populations in the UK.

Turin has aged, so while the cafes are full of gentlefolk,

Baratti e Milano an equal for Betty’s,

it’s a city apparently without the thrills of modern Britain. Which it’s likely they’re fine about, mocking the glossy Liverpool One shops and the loss of World Heritage status from afar.

Turin has a mole, a very large mole; the escalator to the top fully booked. I never book.

What do they think of us ? Their plastic tat could be straight from Oxford Circus.

and their soundtrack is Pink Floyd and Paramore. This was the only vaguely interesting record shop.

Like Liverpool, Turin has a McDonalds or two now but has otherwise survived the worse excesses of the chains.

You don’t really need Zizzi and Jamie’s when you’ve got simple places like Caffe della Basilica making pasta that was perfect for me, a little too much for Mrs RM’s delicate stomach.

Mrs RM retired to I Reali; I asked Chat GPT for Turin’s alternative scene,

Vanchiglia ? That’s literally the street we were staying on.

Will I find the Turin equivalent of Oldham Street, Love Lane or Kelham Island by walking down to the Po ?

Er, no. Down by the river, just an unremarkable bunker of a nightclub, and the local students drinking Aperol Spritz.