Stropps, I do love you so.
Had jolly time at beach today. One of those covered with loungers and brollies, all belonging to particular restaurants. DS and I frolicked in the waves, while DP remained fully clothed. Preferably reading his book. He has a tendency on holiday to go practically mute, and short tempered, leaving it to me to jolly proceedings on. As you can imagine, this wears thin pretty quickly. But I can never quite say anything, fearing the resultant sulk and affect on DS.
Anyway, drive to and from beach was eventful, with some prime examples of hair-raising Italian driving -tailgating, overtaking with mm to spare, cutting corners, and then parking with gay abandon. Navigating the towns is like a hazard perception test on acid.
Crazy sat nav insists on directing us down farm tracks, or up narrow, winding medieval city streets, with sharp bends and gaggles of old ladies on chairs. As the car we've given is a vast estate, and we declined the collision damage waiver, this becomes stressful.