I’ve been in Italy for a week now. Two dongles (you know, those devices they used in the stone age for Internet) four visits to the house later and today a giant satellite gets delivered. It’s going on the roof and the laptops happily have WiFi again. Although you do need to attach via cable. Of course my Mac doesn’t have a port for one of those old fashioned connections. So here I am, banished to dongle for the rest of the day, sighing softly under my breath.

My announcement about being available to hire at weddings and important parties (ask me to not be in Holland on your big day and I can guarantee; it will rain wherever I am and the sun will shine in Holland) is once again on. Wonderfully hard winds and tropical rain showers creating outside pools in unexpected places, like on the road to our house.

Today’s read. I’m totally engrossed in the biography of Wim Kieft. When I heard him clear his nose several times during football commentary, I honestly thought that he was probably out the night before, hanging over a mirror with a couple of cheerful ladies. But I hadn’t expected that he had snorted a half a million up his lonely nose in hotel rooms, or spent hours hiding in the bushes or made his exit via the hotel kitchen because he couldn’t pay the bill. I find it humiliating. And I have more sympathy for him by the page. May I ask you to go out and buy his book? It will help him pay off his debt payments (four big ones to go) and I know your love won’t mind. And why not buy a Grazia too for a shot of street style.

And then I took a walk along the Brindisi harbour, where you can sail to Greece from. This looks like a nice little boat.

This is vacation. Feet on the dashboard and a fresh coat of polish from a new pedicure.