It's all been a bit full on but it's come together nicely - it's a very beautiful and striking show, which I won't even try to explain or describe. Perhaps one day when I have time to breathe (and and ADSL line) I'll post some pics.
Our time together in Venice is drawing to a close, it has been wonderful. I'm not sure what I'm going to do now, I mean I'll have free time!
Spoil the boys, have a kip, finish the biography of Sol Nte what I am writing. I founf it the other night, and do you know, in parts it's actually quite good.
A bit like Sol really!
“Good afternoon sir!” said a thick set barman
sporting a thick set handlebar moustache,
corduroy car-coat, well oiled pedal-pushers and
a pair of ice skates.
“Good afternoon bar-keep!” said Sol, who’d
never seen a handlebar moustache before, well
not one with bell and dynamo lamp anyway.
“How can I help you?” asked the barman.
“I wonder if you can help me” asked Sol, “I am a
little lost, I am tired an hungry and would like to
rest a while. Perhaps I may take advantage of
the warmth of your hearth and if you have a
menu I’d be most pleased to peruse it.”
“You look tired and hungry my friend” offered
the barman, “And if I am not mistaken have the
look of a man lost, tired and hungry. Sit you
down, rest you, take advantage of our hearth,
perhaps you would like to take a gander at the
menu whilst you warm yourself.”
He led Sol to an armchair by the fire. Sol settled
his arm into the chair and waited as the barman
pulled up another armchair, a footstool, and a
headboard. Sol settled himself and sat on the
“You make yourself comfortable whilst you look
at the menu,” said the barman, “I have other
customers to attend to.”
“I see that you have other customers to attend to,”
said Sol. “I’ll just make myself comfortable and
look at the menu while I wait. Oh and by the
way, it would appear that your skates are
Sol had the strangest feeling that the barman was
not only mumbling but in fact talking backwards
as he had not understood a word he had said.
Reaching into his travelling bag Sol pulled out his
reading monocle and looked at the menu. Turning
the menu the right way up he polished his monocle
on his shirt tail, making it completely unusable,
(seeing this however the barman did sneak up
and cut a small portion of Sol’s shirt tail off and
made his way quietly to the ‘Specials’ board,
where he added a new soup.) and was still
unable to read it. Squinting at the menu until his
good eye watered Sol simply could not make
head nor tail of what was written.
“This appears to be written in what I can only
assume to be ‘foreign’.” he thought. “Perhaps I am
near the docks.”