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11th February 2024

Stephen’s Monday proved just as busy as his previous Friday had been. Not only was he late home for a curtailed lunch but it was past 7.30 before he was back in the evening. That, though, signalled a transition to a more flexible arrangement for the rest of the week, as after a very hectic period and the start of the runway shows, the pressure of work has diminished considerably.

This made it possible finally for Bertrando on Tuesday morning to announce that they would go on their office Christmas do and told Cecilia to book them in somewhere. This was not quite as easy as it might seem, what with some still being on their post festive break and some not open for lunch at the moment and the odd one not able to accommodate them. It ended up with Bertrando driving them up the coast to Porto Recanati and Da Fabietto (At Little Fabio’s), a shabby chic fish restaurant where a wealth of ladies of a certain age (some with their dogs) were eating – and eating very well.

Stephen and his luncheon companions tucked into several plates of seafood in different guises, all of which were more than acceptable, and following a Montalbano-esque walk along the seafront he was home not long after 5.

It was the same the next day, but on Thursday he was back at the unheard of time of 3.15. Fortunately, he found me just finishing off cleaning the bedroom and not lounging on the settee, flipping through magazines and eating Turkish Delight. What we did gorge on later in the day was homemade pizza when we went to Marco and Maddalena’s to take his birthday present round – a day late but they were otherwise occupied on the Wednesday. Maddalena had said to come for dinner, and in her usual way of under-catering placed three large platters full of slices of pizza with, I think, seven different toppings. Well, we had to sample each variety as it was only polite, and some we had to try twice just to make sure.

The other week when we were there, Marco, if you recall, treated us to his own version of Name That Tune. This time we ate to the backdrop of Sanremo, the annual musical event that takes over RAI 1 for five hours per night for five nights before, using a complex voting system, the winning song is decided. We were also treated to that night’s international guest, who is paid some ridiculous amount to self-promote (the previous night, I think, it was John Travolta, presumably to help pay for his next tranche of cosmetic surgery – allegedly). Thursday it was Russell Crowe, looking wild and unkempt and somewhat bigger than his Gladiator days, and singing a track from his latest album – a cunning move on the part of the organisers, designed it would appear to make the songs in the contest sound so much better.

There was a change to our routine on Friday when I had an appointment at 9.00 with the nice Dr Scorolli, the oculist, for my annual check-up. I had half expected that he would say the left eye was ripe for an intervention, and I was correct in so far as it is almost ready. He upped the prescription for the contact lens to the highest it can go before it will have no increased effect (the lens for the glasses hit that point a while ago) and said to see how I get on. If my lack of clear vision in that eye becomes too annoying then go back, maybe in six months. As my right eye is doing all the heavy lifting and I am managing more than adequately we will have to wait and see (no pun intended).

Because of the appointment we had to delay the supermarket shopping till yesterday, followed by more shopping this morning when we made a trip to Corridomnia to stock up on household products at Risparmio Casa and a couple of other things from a couple of other shops, which were very necessary (or they were once we had seen them). It was then time for lunch at DiverXo, not that we were treating ourselves. It was purely for research purposes to compare and contrast with Sushi Koi at Cuore Adriatico. As yet, we have not arrived at any definite conclusions, so it’s highly likely we may have to visit each one again sometime in the not-too-distant future.