“Whenever you talk about your country and your family, you always have the biggest smile on your face”, my colleague told me over lunch when we were talking about the Christmas holidays. I explained to him it’s because going home is something special and I’m allowed to be as nostalgic as I want. I can dream about that life there is better, that people are happier and that the air is cleaner. And flats are cheaper.
When Rosie left for New York she took all of her belongings with her, bar a bowl of jellybeans. Miss E and I have not left that bowl alone, every day we’ve slowly devoured everything from sour cherry, sizzling cinnamon and sunkist lemon. I’m telling you, jellybeaning is addictive – the sizzling cinnamon is not.
It’s not often I don’t finish watching a movie, but tonight I couldn’t bear another minute of Under the Tuscan sun. Simplified, it’s about an American divorcee who flees to Italy, buys a run-down house in Tuscany and eventually, meets the Italian man of her dreams.
This Sunday has been very different from last Sunday. I’ve been taking it very easy, not even leaving the flat. Last week however, I was back home in Sweden for the bank holiday. Mushroom picking is a perfect Sunday activity, so my mother and I drove out to get some chanterelles.