Hmm, where were you and your keen insight thirty years ago to pour cold water on my adolescent mental machinations around helping dissuade creeping desertation around where i lived?

I was in Southern Italy, suffering for a weather that did not correspond to what I read in my school books, and learning to hate the words "Azores anticyclone".

And later I switched to yearning for the comparatively friendly Azores anticyclone every time the damned African anticyclone came uninvited to the heart of the Mediterranean Sea, and made itself at home for weeks at a time.

My partner's from Marche, and boy do they have a bit too much water at the moment... :/