COMFORT ZONE

Very sad in a way and it needn't take more 'n' a few words to get the memory across.

Good reading thrills me but for my five years' eight months' caregivery  I couldnt enjoy it at home because any sort of silent or sedentary peace eventually attracted attention and begged the question why I wasnt properly employed raking and rotting on the treadmill of San Luca gardenry.  

Went out to buy a few things, snapped up a Spectator and NYT and instinctively drove to my old solitary haunts.Good reading thrills me but for my five years' eight months' caregivery  I couldnt enjoy it at home because any sort of silent or sedentary peace eventually attracted attention and begged the question why I wasnt properly employed raking and rotting on the treadmill of San Luca gardenry.

So I'd grab blissfull solitude when I went out - pull into anonymous caffs or inns where i wouldnt bump into Simperers and could sit quietly with myself; head down to the Venetian shipyard and breathe calmly and enjoy the view.  Today, Tuesday, 18 months after final freedom, Tasia Day, house tidied and meal prepared ~ but the instinct is still to grab the papers and head in any opposite direction. 

Through the gates was not home.

I used to walk down the pier and watch the Madelena fill with tourists for another day's lobsterising sea jaunt. Look at their faces and try to guess where they were from and how many days they had here. 

I'd wave goodbye as they cast anchor - every departure needs someone on the shore to wave a mouchoir and dab behind the eyes. I did it again today - the jolly-faced types on board probably had one room and a shared loo and basin and I had six strema and 300 sq feet of palazzo but I felt freer and snugger down by the gangplank than treading nervously between thrice accursèd garden tools and the remembered fear of coming face to face with some jardinerie chore.

The stench of theft that hung about the place. My younger gal still uses 'impunity' with easy accuracy once I'd illustrated it in a sentence describing the Double Theft of 2007.

Aliki Kayaloglou sings tomorrow night, free at the Old Fortress - it's not all Theft and Thwartery. 

Up! Seize the guitar, plunder the frigidaire for olives and feta and this morning's black bread.