I can't quite believe I managed to get through the whole week without damaging the car. Sicily did its best to smash up the bodywork, but my skillful driving meant I avoided all the obstacles. Even though I was very tired on the way back to the airport I still managed to brake in time to avoid hitting a dog that nonchalantly strolled into the busy dual carriageway. I blasted my horn at it and it just looked up at me with a look of pity in its face as if to say "I am a Sicilian dog - you brake for me." I don't know if a car horn means anything to a dog - will it just freak it out more? -but it was my only real option. It just glanced at me in the same was as Big Foot glanced at the camera that time he was walking into the woods, then went on his way. Somehow he got through the other two lanes to the other side of the road. I am glad I got through the week without killing anything.
It was sad to leave the island; it felt like the holiday had only just begun; but soon enough we were flying over England's green and pleasant fields. And also the brown and unpleasant ones that smell of cow poo. I bought a Guardian at the airport, but it wasn't as exciting as getting one when abroad. Though the young woman at the counter was telling a colleague about how she had served Paris Hilton earlier in the day. She didn't seem to be as excited at serving me, but maybe she was just playing it cool.
I thought I had been overdoing it on the holiday, eating loads of pizza and pasta and bread and ice cream and drinking beer, and my jeans felt a bit tight, but when I got home I found I had lost some weight. I did skip lunch a few times and went to the gym in the hotel a few times, but I was still very surprised by this. It suggests that all my previous dieting attempts have been getting it wrong. Bread and beer are the way forwards!
Though much as I enjoyed having a couple of drinks while away, I didn't get as much out of it as I would have thought and think I might return to sobriety now I am home - after all I still haven't had a drink in the UK yet. Maybe my hard drinking days are over. Ha ha ha! Famous last words.
David Pashley was the only one of you to guess that I would last 100 days, so he will win something.
Anyway, good to be home. Much as I would prefer to still be in Sicily.
