With a quick trip to Foggia in Italy to see my aunt, planned for tomorrow, most of the day was filled with not doing much (me), whilst St Jan of Cannes prepared for our little sojourn. By way of a little background, when I was four years old, my parents split up and my mother and I moved from Bristol to live with her sister, Pia, in Harrogate. I see Pia as a sort of surrogate mother, hence the desire. It's a secret trip (so you're not telling many people - Ed) because Zia Pia would probably not want us to go. Because she couldn't put us up and feed us, she would see it as a slight that we were in town and not staying with them. Such is Italian hospitality. As her illnesses are likely to be long term, then the only way that we can show our support is to travel quietly and put ourselves up in a hotel. It's the least we can do and easier done by presenting it as a fait accompli. (A little trip to Italy is hardly a penance, so no brownie points for you - Ed)
Not wanting to hide my light under a bushel (don't worry a bushel is very small - Ed), it's not strictly true that I did nothing all day. I cleaned the car, which I see as a real pleasure and not really work. Have you ever noticed how much faster the car goes when you have cleaned it boys? And, I also assisted in Jan's disturbing fetish for washing clothes, by helping her to find all my filthy rags. Is it just me, (er,yes - Ed) or have you ever noticed how much nicer clothes are to wear when they are dirty, boys?
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