Back to Italy reluctantly . . .

So I'm back in Italy again - or at least my body is.  Where I've left my mind I can't begin to guess!!  For the first time, I left Cumbria reluctantly.  The sun was shining, spring was starting to break over the river bank and my garden at the Mill desperately needed weeding - being choked with the nettles and ground elder brought by the winter floods.  I felt a real yearning to be in one place for longer than a week. All I can think is that I've just been doing too much travelling - too many suitcases, too many planes and trains.  But I can't stop because I've still got lots of research to do for the Norman Nicholson biography which keeps bringing me back to Britain.

Today I felt rather better because the sun - which has been very reluctant in Italy this year - did a bit of hazy shining, and - a month later than usual - the wild flowers are beginning to bloom in the olive grove in all their mad glory. 

Next week I'm on a plane again . . .  If the retreat at Moniack Mhor told me anything, it's that this crazy life of mine has to slow down.  I currently have two houses to look after in two separate countries, two gardens to weed, two lives to coordinate.  And it's too much.  Somewhere in the future, some difficult choices are going to have to be made.