August is often termed as one of those 'silly months' like Christmas time when nobody is expected to get anything done. Isn't that right? I've been using that excuse about my writing for the last 6 days so it must be right. I think about writing. I think about writing most of the day but manage to do anything but write. I don't know what it is but it's annoying and I'm just going to have go into a corner and give myself a hard time. There are so many things I could be writing about, Christmas for one as now is the time if you want to write something seasonal. But when it's 30 odd degrees and the whole of the country are on holiday from chemists, to newsagents to restaurants (well for Italy that's the case). It is the season when the city folk from Milan, Rome and Florence shake off their D & G (I'm told that's the correct way to refer said designer of 'have to have' clothes) don a sun-dress and shorts and head for their homes in the country. Houses which are empty for eleven months of the year come alive with chatter and laughter and all over the country on Sunday 15th August will be celebrating' Ferragosta', one of the most important catholic holidays. According to those in the know, this is the day that the Virgin was 'assunta in cielo', or in other words, taken to heaven to be with her son Jesus. It's a day for families and for celebration. So there is plenty of scope for a story to be told there in a number of ways. There is always a story to tell, whatever month or season it may be. So next week, I should be reporting on what literary delights I have penned...right?
Don't Think Just Write
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