The first six weeks here were quite tense and I was a bit on edge all of the time, what with everything being new and different, and I did a lot of my writing from 9pm to 1am. But the adrenaline is wearing off, and I’ve started getting to bed a little earlier, and Sebastian has been sick, and Nathaniel goes to school from 1pm to 3pm every day which really breaks up the afternoon, and I’ve started working on the house a bit, and Rachel’s mother was here for a week, and we’re getting ready for three straight weeks of visitors. Hmmm, no wonder I haven’t had any time to write.
On Saturday (today) I’m flying to Florence for five days, and will be driving and training around, looking for a town that we might want to live in after our year is up here in Cornwall. If you know of the perfect place, within 45 minutes by train of Florence, nice central piazza with at least three of four nice (but not expensive) restaurants, a couple of good cafes, with a little bit of night life, let me know. We’re interested in starting a tourist related business, and want to be close to, but not in, Florence. We know the usual suspects (Pisa, Fiesole, Lucca, etc.), and are looking for something a little less obvious, and a little more unspoilt.
Which reminds me of the joke that Rachel tells of the English couple who went to Italy for the first time (best told with a thick English accent). The couple is home after their vacation and the wife is telling one her friends about the trip. “Marjorie, we had the best time” says Jayne. “But the strangest thing happened – we never did find Florence, but we did find a lovely little city named Fir-en-say.”
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