The light in the bedroom was turned off, although the door was open and the living room light provided partial illumination. I came in to say good nig...t and, as we often did, we got into a conversation, with me seated on the bed.My back was bothering me a little that night. Working all those hours in the rice paddies took its toll on me physically. Wendy had given me a massage earlier – a long-standing routine we'd never abandoned. I'd taken some pain medicine, but I was still experiencing mild. Are you ever going to stop going on about Botticelli? It was one painting that's all. Two months hanging around naked on a giant stinky oyster shell in a cowshed in Florence trying not to drown in pools of pig shit and spending half the day brushing chicken crap out of my hair. Hardly fun times. Danny? Danny? Fuck off then you fucking Tellytubby. Arse clanger.That's the problem with Italian men, even the smallest hint of infidelity and they get all huffy and emotional. Guess I'm just going to. More

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