During our last stay in Venice, Alison and I arranged for Telecom Italia to install a landline in our little apartmento. When the engineer turned up, Alison was away at the language school, so it was left for me to deal with him. He asked me a lot of questions, but I couldn’t give him any answers – primarily because I didn’t understand a fucking word he said! Next thing he’s on his mobile to his office, when I’m certain I heard him call me a “useless marito”. Alison assured me afterwards that he wouldn’t have said such a thing, but the sobriquet stuck. From then on, whenever I failed to do something practical or technical, I was the “useless marito”. But I think I’ve now redeemed myself to some extent. For the best part of three years, the paint on the ceiling in the shower room has been peeling and cracking. It has annoyed me all that time. I kept promising myself that I’d do something about it. And today I finally did. I sanded. I painted. I painted again. And I even cleaned the downlights and fan. Yes, there’s no stopping this former “useless marito” now. There’s a whole house to… Fuck, I need a holiday!