Today I have embarkened to Sicilily.
Indeed I write this as I sit at an secret airport awaiting my private jet to transport me and my companions luxuriously to there.
For those of you unfamiliar enough with what it is, it is Sicilily: an island in the middle of nowhere in the Caribbean, but which is described by all who have visited it as probably the most of the beatifullest islands anywhere in this old world of ours.
Page after page of descriptions by the islands very own tourist department lauds this sensationalistically gorgeous destination for the intrepid traveller like me, portraying it as a never-ending carnival of colour, sun, sea, sand and sexists.
I travel not alone, as is my preference but as per the terms of an injunction still in force, with Beattie, Tallulah, and the Genius Amanuensis. Lordy, lordy.
I have stuffed my box brownie 'dans mon trunks' and I will capture the glory of the island for you in all its glory, presenting it to you on a daily basis as "Glorious Sicilily", a collection of photos which I hope to parlay into a coffee table book of an photo essay type one for sale to you all at a reasonably price for your coffee table all of you.
Adieu!
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