When I went outside to close the garage door it would not work. Turned out someone must have reached up and switched off the power to the roller door. Nice! Thanks, mate.
The weekend was spent going through all the things on my desk, sorting them into categories, putting them into folders, and then transferring them upstairs to the new two drawer filing cabinet that I raced out and bought last week. When I got it home I could not find its keys, so had to ring the shop and seek help. Somehow I assumed the keys would be in the lock, but no!
Obviously my eyesight is getting worse, as it transpired that the keys were in a clear plastic envelope stuck with clear tape to the clear plastic wrapping, and thus the dull silver of the keys blended nicely and invisibly with the dull grey of the cabinet. Being told this made me feel like a real dill. Especially since I did the helpless, hopeless little old lady act, evidently with a convincing air of verisimilitude. The cabinet is now in my bedroom cupboard, out of sight.
Part of my daily routine is to revise my travel summary document, which I will then email to myself, replete with scanned copy of passport and travel insurance. The phone card had to be checked. It had expired, but they waved a magic wand and reactivated it. I think I was talking to someone in India but fortunately we could understand each other. Then there is always the packing panic to contend with. I checked the baggage allowance - 40 kg - how can anyone lug that much around with them, especially on the way over, before any shopping can have been done?
However! I really am going to Italy. From the time I studied history at at school and encountered the art and learning of the Renaissance, it has been one of my abiding passions. I started learning the language while still at school, forgot a lot of it, and began again after my divorce. Isn't it interesting how unhappiness and misery manage to stimulate other interests, learning and different activities? And so you manage to heal.
Dr P gave me a trip early in our relationship, and I went with my third sister. We had six weeks away, and went to Paris as well as Italy. I was ecstatic, but my poor sister, who had never been away from home before, was desperately homesick. She cried every day and rang home constantly. I always knew I would love the country, and I did and still do, notwithstanding all its problems. It is so incredibly beautiful, the people are warm, generous and helpful, the history is splendid and fascinating, and so much of our civilisation originated there. Since that first trip Dr P, who is very generous in this way, has given me others, but with his increasing frailty and forgetfulness, I believed that it would not be possible for me to go away again. Even going to see family in Canberra or Melbourne is difficult. When my dearest friend died a year ago I went to her funeral, but had to come rushing home the next day, as Dr P had neglected himself, and was taken to hospital. So to be given the opportunity to have several weeks away is wonderful, and I am truly grateful. I hope he will be all right during my absence. And maybe his family will realise and understand better how much care I give him.
Five days to go! Then that long, long trip, with almost no sleep, and on Sunday afternoon, we arrive. I wish I could take some crochet with me to do on the flight, but apparently plastic crochet hooks are dangerous weapons and are prohibited. Easy to read books will have to suffice.
Dr P keeps asking me why I don't try another country, and the answer is that I have not finished Italy yet.
The weekend was spent going through all th
2 comments:
I like your reply. I'd be like that with England, I'm sure.
Ooh how exciting for you!!
Post a Comment