It has been foggy for an entire week already. The only thing that changes from day to day is the density of the fog, but foggy it mulishly remains. Often enough it gets so foggy that I cannot see a thing beyond the trees under my garden. The annoying thing is that my wireless weather station, a nifty electronic gadget connected to weather satellites by radio, has been showing sunshine for the entire period. I got this toy in June, but never before this week have I seen air pressures so high. The weather is supposed to be no less than stupendous, and so it apparently is in many parts of Istria, but the Mirna valley has been plagued by fog instead. Each morning I open the shutters in hope of the long-predicted sunshine, but to no avail. Fog, fog, fog. The phobia of British weather is thus starting to haunt me once again. Day by day, I am craving for sunshine with growing passion. And the weather station with its pretty symbol for the sun and its dazzling rays drives me ever more desperate.