The polyps did try to stage a rearguard action from the lower right quadrant beneath the kneecap, but so far haven't succeeded. Czech hydrogen peroxide is clearly good stuff.
So I'm not incapacitated, just in Italy. And these aren't necessarily the same thing. For one thing, the coffee's better, even on the trains. The little I can see of the place from the window of our glamorous 70s portakabin is quite attractive, albeit rainy.
Brief little Wednesday something-like-a-thirteen for the purposes of comparison with Cancun.
1. Blogger speaks Italian.
2. Pasta is a starter.
3. Mmmmm... coffee.
4. Less weirdness, generally.
5. Peas? Why peas?
6. Hooray for new no-smoking legislation. At last I can wear dry-clean-only trousers to restaurants.
7. One of these restaurants may have been run by a man who gave me an autographed volume of his own poetry.
8. The power of the blonde is magnified here.
9. This is a bit weird.
10. Gotta go get trained.
11. No toga.
12. No toga.
13. No toga.