Benito’s Hiding Place 23#

As a hitchhiker you either go right or left or straight on - back is not an option.
We went right, as our left turn had been in Bologna. Thus we rocked up in Predappio near Forlì, a cute village completely redesigned to feed Mussolini’s vainglorious ego. The village was turned into a military parade ground and its character brutally vandalised by clunky fascist architecture.
Benito’s tucked away in the family crypt hiding inauspiciously at the rear of the Predappio cemetery attended by a guard of honour standing waxwork-like robed like an ancient Roman senator. You couldn’t make it up.