When some people say they “love travel” they mean Bali retreats and curated itineraries, and when I say I “love travel” I mean I panic-book £8.99 flights at 2am like a feral goblin with Wi-Fi.

Last February I decided to go to Italy for the day. Literally the day. Why? Because the flights were £8.99 each way. That is not a price. That is a personal attack on my willpower. As a Yorkshire girl who loves a bargain, the deal basically threw itself into my basket.

So off I went, leaving Manchester at 5.55am, a time that should genuinely be illegal. I landed in Milan Bergamo, inhaled a coffee strong enough to make my ancestors jittery, and wandered around Città Alta looking like someone who spends their afternoons in Spoons while every local floated past looking like they had walked straight out of a Vogue spread.

The Verona Hop

Next I hopped on a train to Verona for £7. Seven pounds. In the UK that gets you a sandwich, a packet of crisps and a soul-crushing sense of regret. In Italy it got me a whole city.

I had lunch outside the arena pretending I was sophisticated and not on the verge of passing out in my pasta. Then I visited Juliet’s balcony and resisted the urge to shout “block him babe” at full volume. Growth? Possibly. Restraint? Absolutely not my natural setting.

Sirmione or Bust

Then I jumped on another train to Sirmione for £5 which honestly felt like Italy was flirting with me. Sirmione was stunning. I explored the castle and Lake Garda with the chaotic enthusiasm of someone who had consumed 98 percent caffeine and 2 percent hope.

For a worrying minute I genuinely debated going feral and becoming a mysterious lakeside woman who only speaks in riddles and requests gelato.

The Journey Home

By 7pm I was dragging myself back to the airport for my 11pm flight. Nothing humbles you faster than sitting in departures eating snacks you don’t need while reevaluating all your choices under fluorescent lighting.

• Breakfast in Bergamo 🥐
• Lunch in Verona 🍝
• Dinner in Sirmione 🍕

A full Italian tasting menu brought to you by impulse decisions and a complete lack of chill.

The trains were all on time. Every last one. I was so shocked I almost applauded. I nearly filed a report just to confirm it actually happened.

I got home and slept like a baby. Specifically a baby who had rampaged across northern Italy in a single day like a caffeinated raccoon with a passport.

And honestly...

It was magical.

It was unhinged.

It was peak feral Yorkshire girl bargain-hunting excellence. ❤️