huhhhhhhhhh

That's a sigh. In 2.5 hours a taxi should roll up at my door to whisk me off to Manchester Airport. While typing this I'm listening to Radio 7's Ladies of Letters Go Global, in which Pat Routledge's character Vera is crossing the Carpathians on a donkey with a Transylvanian villain called Roman. From the sound of it the writer hasn't been lucky enough to visit the region in person, or she'd write something a bit more credible. It's funny, though.
I'm not now going to meet the author as promised earlier. Grr. He read his readings on Saturday (ie this evening) in Sibiu, and is leaving (on a jet plane, don't know when I'll be back again) at sparrowfart on Monday. And my abode is a good 2 hours drive from his. So that's that, then. What a shame. I'd virtually written the piece for the Times Lit Supp.
The weather's been glorious, apparently, but it's due to change tomorrow, about the time I touch down. Hey ho. So I don't know whether to take weatherproofs, snow shoes or shorts. This time last year there was a big and very sudden freeze (down to about -20C overnight) which burst pipes and cut the village off again for another few days.
When I come back, I will have 10 days of Carpathian gossip to relate.
La revedere