Ah, England.

E’ una bellissima giornata inglese. Scendi e c’e’ il caratteristico odore di stantio della moquette. Si percepisce ancora, incredibilmente, il classico odore della vernice che usano qua sulle porte bianche (sara’ perche’ le ho recentemente pulite?). Fuori c’e’ quiete assoluta, e’ tutto bagnato, e nell’aria si percepisce, ma non cade torrenziale, eppure scende, la pioggia. Animali che che dormono risoluti, fanno le fusa o giocano dappertutto, di sopra ragazzi (ormai sono tutti e due ragazzi, Ghigo oggi compie 13 anni) e bambine delicate che dormono. Da qualche parte un marito silenzioso e i suoi 30 minuti di bagno per rendere le sue carni profumate al punto giusto, per me. E’ un bel posto. It is one lovely English morning. You come downstairs and there’s the familiar musty smell from the carpet. You can still incredibly only faintly perceive the typical smell of the white paint you find over most English doors (that might be because I recently cleaned them). Outside there is total quiet, there’s a general feeling of wetness, you know it’s raining though you can’t really see it. Animals downstairs either doggedly sleeping, elegantly purring or bounding about, upstairs boys (as from today, they’re both teenagers, as Dylan’s thirteen today) and a sweet little girl sleep. Somewhere a silent husband and his 30 minutes of bath a day to make his skin just the right intensity of scent, for me. It’s a good place.
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