After one has been strapped to one's desk with one's eyes glued to one's screen until the wee small hours of the morning, for days if not weeks, one gets a bit squirrely. I gaze out at my garden growing exponentially taller and greener and appealing to me to go out and thrash it back to regulation size, and I deny it what it deserves, pour another cup of coffee and deal with the next item in my virtual in-tray.
But at some point, the deadline is met and all the things left to do are filing and cleaning out the hardrive. But one's bottom is heavy from 10,000 hours of sitting and all one (that is, I) want to do is go striding off somewhere, in the sun, and breath in the landscape, and clear the brain to take in only what is in front of it. To feel refreshed, reborn. A renaissance.
And nothing says renaissance better than Italy, notably Florence and Venice. So I pack my bag with the minimum, gather my husband and a clutch of euros, and hie my way to the airport. Tomorrow I will land in Tuscany and already I can taste the wine!
