August 3, 1985

 

Woke up early and went for breakfast. Again it was delicious. We had to change hotels so dad went and looked for one. He found one in about five minutes two doors away. It’s real expensive, I guess he must have looked around. We all walked to the Pitti Palace but could only stay half an hour or so because dad said to just leave the bags in the room and we had to be back by 12.

We changed hotels then went to the Uffizi. It was just closing so we watched the artists outside for a while then me, ma, and Cherie went swimming at the Bellariva. It was nice but I was the only one who swam which was dull. I found I could hold my breath for a long time at at this pool. We went back to the Uffizi but couldn’t find dad so we bought some fruit and water and walked home. Dad came home a few minutes later. We ate, rested, and then walked to the market, which was also just closing much to my dismay. We walked around the Duomo for a while. Cherie and I had a good time making faces, doing voices and laughing etc. but dad didn’t think it was funny. No, he’s all mad at us. The only thing that’s fun for him is being a martyr. We can only have fun his way. Anyway, we went back to the pensione. I put my hair in rags, packed my bags – which took about an hour each. We are going to Rome tomorrow so we have to pack overnight bags. I only packed two dresses. I really feel like drawing but dad won’t lend me his colours. He is such a grump. I offered to sit for him but he said no and then went into a tirade. He always blames us for a) not learning French b) not modeling for him c)”bitching” d) anything else that frustrates him.

 

 

 

 

 

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