Under attack

My slumber was rudely interrupted this morning by the crash of a canon firing. I am not making this up. It's a nationalist thing, apparently.

I'm told that this happens every day at noon, from the top of the Gianicolo - it's close enough to cause the windows to rattle fairly hard. And to cause one to have a heart attack in one's sleep. Pietro had to come in and pound my chest with the espresso pot to get my heart started again (that's what they use here instead of those shock-paddles).