Rain is still pouring down and fog on hills. Reminds of the Woolacombe area of Devon, rolling hills to the sea. If it had not been for the lemon trees to my left or the vineyards in front it might well be Dying for a cup of coffee as no breakfast find a motorway petrol station no mean feat in Sicily they are mostly tucked away in villages a bit like 1950's Britain and drink coffee.
I am immediately ill both ends. However I press on but my eyes are sore and glasses don't work. I should have recognised the initial symptoms of food poisoning but didn't of course. I've still got a 110 km to go, but it takes me hours with very frequent stops and blurred vision. I eventually arrived at my destination to find it's yet another crap site and the bloke in charge there is drunk and of course has a strong Sicilian dialect.
If there is one word in Italian I know its sedici (its on the back of every imported car in the UK that my old company imported as in Sedici Valvole) Well it took ages for me to understand what he meant but eventually I paid in advance, not normal here and off he scuttles presumably to the bar with my lire.
He actually looked like a scruffy version of Ronnie Shanks Dad, but that's another story. It's getting dark so I go to bed, but as soon as I lie down I'm violently ill.
So I end up spending all evening and most of night in the toilet block until 4am when the storm that rages wakes me up, and as I do so - the electric goes and so does my heated toilet block. So I take a shower in cold water, dress and make my way back to The Black Pig, a journey of 150 yards but I don't make it, I pass out under a tree and wake up when its light.
Have to shower again in cold water [ never been so clean] Don't want to stay here so decide to push on yo my next stop I shouldn't do it really as its a long drive but this place is so depressing.