No ferry. One of those Italian strikes
again. So they camped for three nights
in the hall of the terminal. Harry in
his sleeping bag in between Sylvia
and Annette. On the boat, after they
had smoked some pot, gotten from
bikers they met aboard, Sylvia began
to make the first advances. That was
bound to go wrong. And indeed, on
a terrace in Olbia ...
the sisters were not just arguing, but
burst out squabbling, so loud that Harry
would have preferred traveling on alone,
but that wasn't an option ... one of the
two had to clear the field. Sylvia, the
oldest, got Annette so far to take the
next ferry back to Italy. After all it
turned out to be a fine vacation. Wild
camping on the beach, without a tent,
because they only had sleeping bags.
Harry, an army sleeping bag, you know,
with sleeves and a hood. Then there was,
the simple tasty cuisine of the island and
occasionally even a hotel room with a bath.