SICILY: Sometimes it’s better not to know

I was sitting on the delightful terrace of our B&B, attempting to sketch Castelbuono and vaguely waiting for Nigel to return with the cuppa he had gone to make. After a while, there was still no sign and I decided he must have fallen asleep in our room. After all, we’d been for a long walk in the mountains earlier.

I went in, and he was just hanging out some damp clothing to dry.

‘I’ve been washing out some stuff to see me through until the end of the holiday.’

‘What took you so long?’

‘Ah, well, I washed it out in the bidet, but then the plug got stuck and I couldn’t dislodge it, so I had to bale out the bidet.’

‘Well it’s good you solved it. And you’re okay for clothes until the end of the week now. Wait. You say you baled out the bidet. What did you do that with?’

A long pause.

‘The tooth mug.’

I stared at him.

‘…obviously I cleaned it out thoroughly afterwards.’

And yet somehow I still don’t fancy using it.