I have loved Rome all my life. I went first when I was 10, to stay in a convent. The highlight then was slipping into a cage with two guard dogs, convinced I had a gift for soothing savage beasts. Reader, I survived.

The most recent was in April this year, which involved being pickpocketed at the Circo Massimo metro station. Honestly, it was a privilege to encounter such professionals. Fagin would have called them “good boys” – all right, good girls, if you want the truth.