Out of a sow's ear...these photos are awful but a reminder of a day spent at a friend's office. She was charged with renovating a palazzo, outer buildings (including huge stables...all I could think was poor Hercules with that particular chore), & gardens...& starting a graduate business school for the Italian government. In English. And dealing with some sort of flower show or display that day & the bitterly complaining florists (about where each one had been assigned for their arrangement). And, and, and. My friend handled it all quite gracefully, including a depressed friend who showed up for three weeks with one pair of black jeans, three black turtlenecks, a boyfriend's old red pullover, & not much else. Oh, yes, a list of complaints about life. The other pictures from the trip are all in bright sunlight so I'm not sure what happened here. The flash went off, we thought so anyway. This is really for writing purposes & later. I know I always write that but 'tis true. (Ercolano is the Italian name for Herculaneum of Vesuvian fame/infamy.)
1 comment:
I was laughing with my son just the other day about the fact that no one is called Hercules anymore at least not in Canada.
Hercules, time for your Shreddies, etc.
Then I remember Hercule Poirot. Hercules Leek. Good Grief.
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