last day of serious dust

and a very strong smell of varnish.

Tomorrow, I clean. Again... again... and again...

The sun is shining after some bad weather. I went to Cassino this morning to stand in queues again, this time enjoying knowing I could communicate all that I needed, with a fair chance that I would also understand the replies. It is time to renew my documentation.

The nuns (there are always nuns) in the queue were in a habit I hadn't seen before, and I have seen quite a few different ones now. They wore large wooden crosses and rosary beads from their rope belts; their habits were in two quite different, very soft shades of blue. Another woman looked anxiously as though she might give birth in the waiting room before her documentation was approved; it was all I could do to not offer to rub her aching back as she shifted uncomfortably. The young man with her had tears in his eyes. I wonder what country they had fled from?

The gentleman who took my request had to go through it several times; I think he had forgotten me in the last 18 months, and had trouble understanding why anyone from New Zealand who was not here for work, not married to an Italian and had no Italian relatives would want to come and live here!

I came home to more dust, through everything again. Ah well, I am resigned to it now. The doors just don't stay shut when I am out.

The sun is catching my coats and towels and my room is a riot of colour.

It is dry enough to pick oranges, to be safe up the ladder.

Zacchi prefers the heater, silly dog!