Now, I seem to have uploaded an awful lot of pics from the local bar on the 26th. You really mustn't get the impression that we spend all our time in bars of an early afternoon. ... Right??
No, no, the glazed expression's got absolutely nothing to do with the Campari Spritz - look, the child's got it too, and she's on hot chocolate. There were some marvellous characters who came in and out of the bar, including a fat man of about 25 who sat slumped at a chair indulging in snuff (when did you last see someone taking snuff?), the Old Man of the Woods who shuffled in in boots that looked three sizes too big for him, a knitted hat that must have been pre-WW1 and a countenance craggy as the Dolomites all packaged up into a 5 foot 3 bundle of joy; and the bartender who seemed to be unable to keep more clothing on than a a remarkably thin black T shirt which showed off his tattoos nicely... as you can see we were all still in our coats. Mind you I guess if someone was to wear a tight black T shirt there could be worse people - I noticed that even the Littles was strangely glued to a bar seat facing him initially, and subsequently declared her hot chocolate was The Best I've Ever Had. Or perhaps it was just his obsession with monkeys.
One of the Non's specials - the photo that is. I've taken to carrying her camera around instead of mine, because it's so much less cumbersome - but in any case she took this one and I think it's rather artistic. A six-year-old's table view.
Inadvertent Poirot impression
Now, our REAL purpose on this walk was to see some of the ubandant artwork on the external house walls all around the village of Cibiana. Seems they've gone mad on murals, and highly interesting it is too. Indeed, why not paint your house with pictures rather than Dulux? The one underneath was entitled 'the letter from abroad', I think.
This one got sponsored by the European Union, the Whale said.
'Parently this one's famous, but keeps falling down. Depicts a battle involving valleys and Venetians. And ambushes. Don't ask me the details.
Beehives at rest.
Well, there we are. Either we were walking about picturesque villages under skies that denied any knowledge of ever having even seen a cloud, let alone associate with one, or we rolled the Littles in the snow, or we sat indoors and had cheese and wine while Lara looked at goblin sharks and deep sea gulper eels on the net. In the evening we played Rummikubs... for the record on the 25th the Whale trounced the girls and on the 26th he lost disgracefully. Not that anyone cackled 'revenge!' on the second night... of course.
I particularly liked this one
A strangely cat-infested house. They hung around the place like fat, hairy vultures.
Looking remarkably coy next to Mr Snowman
'I can touch the ceiling over our bed!'