After a long absence, the sun has come out in Salento today.  It’s beautiful.  I’m sitting here writing next to an open window, a light, warm  breeze ruffling the curtains, and the sunlight glinting off the screen. Actually, that’s a bit annoying, but we’ll ignore that.  Except that I can’t, because now all I can see is the grubby fingermarks on my screen.  How do those *get* there?  I blame the Mac monkeys in the factory, as I’m damn sure I’ve never poked my screen about.  Oh well.


On the subject of hidden dirt, I got into my car earlier and noticed just how much *crap* there was over the outside of it.  While it’s been pouring with rain it’s not been obvious, but now?  Oh dear.  This weekend may have to be spent with a bucket of soapy water and a large sponge.  In the meantime, I’ll just take emergency intermediary measures: i.e. making liberal use of the windscreen washers, and driving in the dark as much as possible.  Nothing like ignoring a problem to make it go away.


The sun seems to have drawn out some of the crazier drivers around here as well.  This morning I have had to swerve to avoid not one but two cars reversing at speed into my path.  I was also stuck at a roundabout for a good minute, while a pair of old biddies drove their knackered old Fiat Uno  v e r y   s l o w l y  past my junction.  In the usual Italian fashion, they stared, utterly unabashed, at me as they did so.  I’m slowly getting used to this, but it’s still pretty disconcerting.  Especially when it’s car drivers doing it.  Look at the ROAD, dammit!  As well as the staring, these two were having a heated debate, complete with waving hands, which was even more unnerving.  What with the eyes not being on the road and the hands not being on the wheel, it’s a miracle they made it across the roundabout at all.  Sometimes I think Italian cars must be magic.  How else do you explain the way in which they stay on the road?