Whenever Jen and I are in Italy, we like to play the Nun Game. Well, to be honest, it's just me who likes to play the Nun Game; Jen thinks it's silly and usually refuses to play to begin with, until her naturally competitive nature kicks in:
"Look a nun! Ten points! Yes!"
"I'm not playing."
"… Oh look, another nun! Ten more points!"
"…"
"… And there's a nun reading a newspaper. 20 points!"
"No way is a nun reading a newspaper worth 20 points!"
"You're just jealous because I'm on 40 points. That's 40 points to nil. You're rubbish at this game!"
"I'm not falling for it. I'm not playing your silly nun game."
"…"
"NUN ON A BIKE!! Forty-all! Yes!"
Last week, Jen and I were crossing a zebra crossing on our way to the Vatican. In Italy, zebra crossings don't indicate any right-of-way for pedestrians; they are merely there to inform drivers that they should swerve to avoid any pedestrians on them, rather than beeping their horns at them for being in the middle of the road.
Jen was a couple of paces in front of me on the zebra crossing, when a Fiat Panda came screeching round the corner and headed straight at her. Jen had to run to avoid being hit.
"Did you see that?!!" said Jen, after I'd caught up with her.
"Yes. What an idiot!"
"It was a nun! That's got to be worth a couple of hundred points: having a nun try to assassinate you with a Fiat Panda!"
I stopped playing at that point.