Stonehenge was closed.
And it was raining.
You couldn't get close to the actual stones unless you'd bought tickets ahead of time. Gemma and Paolo could see some big rocks in the distance as they drove up, but from the visitors' center, nothing.
"I promised you ancient mystery, and now it's nothing but a parking lot," said Paolo, half sad and half joking, as they got back in the car. "I should have looked it up."
"That's all right."
"I do know how to work the Internet."
"Oh, don't worry. I'm more excited about the sheep anyway."
He smiled. "Are you really?"
"Sure. Can you guarantee sheep?"
"Are you serious? Because I don't think I can actually guarantee sheep, and I don't want to let you down again."
"No. I don't care about sheep at all."
Paolo shook his head. "I should have known. Sheep are not Stonehenge. We have to face that. Even the very best sheep are never going to be Stonehenge."
"Let's eat the Swedish Fish," she said, to cheer him up.
"Perfect," said Paolo. "That is a perfect plan."