"There is travel and there are babies. Everything else is drudgery and death."
So goes an aphorism from a character in You Shall Know Our Velocity, the book I read while I was away, by Dave Eggers. Well, there are all kinds of problems with that generalisation, Raymond, but sitting in bed in an apartment in the Italian port of Trieste, with an impressively pregnant B sleeping next to me, and the little boy S between us, it read like a truism.
There's an awful lot to do this week, all of it good. School tomorrow with the ten year olds acting out playlets based on the experiences of the HMS Belfast veterans. Going through the script of The May Queen in prep for the day's work on it with the cast on Saturday, followed by the reading at Southwark on Sunday. And it's my birthday (39) on Friday. Do you think it's too late for me to send out party invites? Haven't had a party in years.
Lots more on Trieste later, but for now here's a picture of B in Venice - we went on a day trip on Thursday.