Nothing exciting to report. I've survived all my Italian driving, and was sort of enjoying it by the end. We're now on a small island in Northern Italy, catching up on sleep. For Holly's 18th birthday she asked me for a short story as a present, which she wanted delivered by her 19th birthday. It's been 960 words long for several months now, and is almost two months late, but I'm cheerfully finishing it for her, when I'm not dozing, eating, or being dragged around on walks.
("You like the walks! You're the one who drags people! That's not fair" says Holly, reading this over my shoulder.)
The story's called SUNBIRD. It just occurred to me that an awful lot of animals get eaten in it, which is a very odd sort of present for a vegetarian, but I expect she'll forgive me.
("You never told me that!" she just said, over my shoulder.)
Right. Hope all of you are having a wonderful time.