April is turning out to be a strange walking companion. We dossed in a cold B&B in a small village and April sleeps on the floor. She talks in her sleep - All "whattya and whyya and gettofff". When we get up she makes a big song and dance about brushing her teeth and in the end I let her use my Oral B. Then there is a bit of scene when we finally get on the road - the beautiful Petra is grouchy sombrero wearer today not chatty and snarling. April looks a bit goofy and her glasses are jet black and she often skips. The tarten skirt she is wearing gets seriously muddy and I laugh a lot when she goes a full spinnin top into a mega puddle. Petra snarls some more and tromps off offering no help. So that leaves me to help the poor April sod out of her mess.
Walking gets pretty boring along straight roads with traffic so we veer off into country where almost immediately we meet a man with no teeth who trys to tell us something but we cannot understand a word he is saying so we run off. I decide that here would be a nice place to own a Nano Ipod so I could dift off listening to Bernard Fanning or Amy Winehouse - you know what I mean - this deafening silence from Petra is getting to me. So at the next village the wine shop is most open thank god and we resort to Chianti and olives with bread rolls and goats cheese. The mood increases in the right direction towards something vaguely resembling happy and stays that way for a couple of hours, when we then romp in some hay and fall asleep. I am as lucky as a king - like Henry the Big 8th. Gor Blimey guvnor I am having a good walk in Italy ...
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