OK, I know you're bored with me banging on about my holiday now, but there's a nice story I want to tell, before we move on.
The work was lovely and, in a back corner beyond the paintings, an incongruous huddle of sofas and armchairs snuggled together around a rug. We were welcomed enthusiastically by two men and, in broken English, they explained that the elder, Enzo Campanino, was a painter and lecturer, his companion, a poet.
The exhibition was part of an Artists' Collective they had recently formed on the island, including musicians and writers, as well as painters. We were later joined by a pianist, although unfortunately she spoke no English at all (and my Italian is more or less limited to buon giorno).
Well, I couldn't resist it: I whipped out my sketchbook (ever the show-off) and showed them the drawings I'd done in the mountains. That was it: we were shown to the comfy chairs and presented with cake and glasses of Lemoncello (the delicious local tipple). I was given a huge guestbook and asked to do a drawing of Enzo.
I did my best (the pressure of proper portraiture is always a bit daunting). In return, Enzo gave me a lovely watercolour sketch as a memento: