Birthday!

You've probably noticed the name of this blog, so it isn't telling tales if I say it's my birthday. Long ago, I discovered various other people had the same date, but that's too old hat to go into.
I left Romania a day late because a horrific crash on the road to the airport last monday morning left about 6 dead and me too late for my plane to Rome from Cluz.
The only thing to do was to take the early flight the next morning to Milan, so an overnight stay in Cluz was sensible. I was delighted to discover that the muzak on the bus into town from the airport was opera.
I took the train from Milan to Via Reggio, Mrs. Lear having landed the day before at Pisa. The railway station at Milan is in the throes of renovation. If it ends up anything like the one at Kelleti it will be fantastic.
We were staying at Camaiore once more at the Oasi di Lombrici, excellently looked after by Roberto and Roberto, and, of course, the pug called Archibaldo.
The first morning, being my actual birthday, Mrs. Lear noticed a cook book in copious quantities, which she bought on being told the author was a friend of Roberta's, and a local celebrity chef.
I suggested she should cook us dinner, which she did that night , drinking two bottles of wine to every one the rest of us put away.
It was a simple meal of Fritata, Pasta in tomato, and chicken in Olives, washed down with Prosecco, local white and red and the dessert ( a scrummy panacotta cake) was assisted by an excellent sweet white, freezy cold and delicious. There are some photographs, but, unfortunately, everyone's hands were shaking a bit too much for any of them to make sense.
Various Ms. Lear's appeared over the next two days and Mrs. Lear's brother, so come Saturday we were at full family strength for dinner at Torre del Lago, where Puccini wrote most of his operas whilst slaughtering the local wildfowl. We stayed at the Hotel Butterfly, but were astonished to discover that the area hosts a famous gay beach. I just can't think of Italians as gay - I suppose I come from a generation which only knew the Italian Stallion.
Anyway, the food was excellent, the sun shone, and I nearly had enough time to finish some of the books I got for my birthday.
The most amusing thing was the endless stream of texts I got from people in UK telling me how heavy the rain was.