Tuesday, 18 July 2006

Countdown

It's only 16 sleeps until my Mum and Dad fly into town. We have a top class itinerary planned, hotels and cosy (read cheap) B&Bs all booked and a station wagon awaiting collection. It promises to be 18 full on days of travel, eating, sight seeing, translating and remembering why we don't all live together. I can't wait.

I will buy an esky in preparation for the trip (we already have a thermos), and will have a wet face washer and frozen water bottle at the ready (essentials for any summer travelling according to mother, and she's absolutely right). It will be stinking hot, and we will bless every air conditioning unit we meet, and curse every hotel room that promised such a modern function but fails to deliver.

August is shaping up to be a big month. Just as we drop the folks at the airport in Rome we have our AFS daughter Lucie (yep, I have a daughter, two actually) from Switzerland flying in, and another just-finished-school friend from Oz Cieon (what a wicked name), and maybe Gi's sister, Irene (why do I never call her my sister-in-law?) to juggle. We will do Rome a bit and then Lucie and Cieon are in Naples with us for a few days.

After that I am not taking any calls. We will both collapse in a state of exhaustion, and no doubt be completely broke (read - in debt to Mr Visa Card).

Sept is going to be busy for Gi with a Tui Na course commencing and hopefully a pick up in the massage once everyone returns from the summer 2 month hiatus (ridiculous country almost completely closes down unless it is a beach side or mountain location). I should be starting work teaching English, but it depends if I can pass the grammar test!!

I expect it will be heads down, hard work, hello visitors, and then a break at Xmas time when I am secretly conspiring to visit another part of the continent...but don't tell Gigi.

Our three sent-by-sea-mail boxes are still missing. We sent them in January, were told it would take 3 months, and have now been told that under International Law the Italian post office has two months before they need to respond to our 'where-the-hell-are-they?' query. It's only slightly worse than being pregnant, being way overdue and waiting, waiting. Why is it worse? Well, I already know what is in the boxes so there is no surprise to look forward to, and frankly I reckon a pregnant lady is more likely to deliver a baby than the Italian post office is likely to find our boxes. It's a deep ocean, and there are several thousand postal workers who might have decided the boxes looked far too interesting to be left alone.

Thank goodness it's only stuff, and not my left hand. By the way, the right hand is 100% again, told you I didn't need a doctor!

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