At four o'clock on a Saturday morning, we staggered out of bed in our hotel room at Melleiha, Malta, and breakfasted on granola bars and--yes, I'm ashamed to admit it--a taste of Irish whiskey with our orange juice, before grabbing our bags and heading for the elevator to the lobby.

Actually it was elevators. Our daughter couldn't get into ours. She had managed to cram two suitcases full of clothes into one bulging bag, even though she knew we would only be gone for three days at the most. As seasoned travelers, Evie and I had a light overnight bag with shorts, tee shirts and changes of underwear. Katie, on the other hand, never went anywhere without a complete trousseau.

"I don't know what I'll be doing."

The last installment before the trip to Sicily

The good book says "Thou Shalt Not Steal." I have always prided myself on my honesty, but as Mark Twain once observed, "Much of what passes for morality is nothing more than lack of opportunity." Alas, an opportunity presented itself, and I couldn't resist. Little did I know how I would pay for my crime.