Both to and from Anacapri, the bus zig-zagged up and down the mountain, teetering on the brink of the precipice after precipice. I couldn't help but envisage some sort of catastrophic bussing incident - in my mind's eye, the bus left the road at one of the hair-pins and cartwheeled down the 2,000ft drop, with bits falling off left right and centre. As it happens, in my potentially morbid reverie, we all somehow climbed out of the wreckage, grinning away, to have an espresso at one of the quayside bars at the bottom (which was, in reality, what we ended up doing, minus the crashing bit, thank God).