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I went around the corner to a cute little family restaurant I’d driven past in the taxi on the way from the airport. It was busy, which was a good sign, but not too noisy. Perfect.
‘Table for one, please,’ I said to the ridiculously good-looking waiter with floppy dark hair, clean-shaven olive skin and greeny-brown eyes who greeted me with a beautiful smile as I stepped through the door. Seriously? What was it with these Italian men? Why were they all so hot? And more to the point, why couldn’t they all up sticks and come and live in London?
In the end it wasn’t so bad dining alone. I’d flicked through the literature that I had picked up from reception with details of all of the organised trips and made a shortlist. Then I WhatsApped some photos of my dinner to Roxy and Harrison, caught up on reading some articles whilst enjoying a glass of chianti and of course some dessert: an orange Florentine cake. Whilst it was nice, annoyingly, I had to admit, it wasn’t as tasty as Lorenzo’s recipe.
After dinner I went to the concierge with renewed optimism and booked myself on a pizza and gelato-making class for tomorrow and a day trip to Cinque Terre, which apparently was a collection of five lovely fishing villages tucked away on the Italian Rivera, for the Sunday. The coach would leave at 5 a.m. and then we wouldn’t get back to Florence until about 8 p.m. Perfect. That would take my mind off things for an entire day. Then on Monday it would be time to go home.
I neededan early night if I was going to be up at 4 a.m., ready for the coach to collect me at 5 a.m. Roxy had been messaging throughout the day to check up on me, so now I was back from my cookery lesson, I typed a summary of what I’d been up to:
Me
Hi, Roxy. How did the wedding go? Any single guys? What was the food like?
Today I went into Florence but tbh, I’d seen it all before when I went last month. I’d booked on to a pizza and gelato making course which was good. The pizza I made didn’t look as good as it could have but was tasty. Another dish to add to my growing Italian recipe repertoire! The chef was cute (the amount of good-looking men per square mile in this country is ridiculous!). Will send pics shortly.
Me
Tomorrow I’m booked on an all-day excursion to Cinque Terre (means something like ‘five lands’), which has beaches and looks interesting. Didn’t fancy Rome in the end. I’ve seen a lot of the attractions during press trips and just not cultured enough to do it all again right now. Then on Monday it’s home time.
Still get moments where I think about what could have been with Lorenzo…but I guess that’s what happens when you take a gamble. Sometimes you lose… xxx
Roxy
Gorgeous pics and adorable man!!
Was a very long day at the wedding (and zero hot guys—clearly they’re all in Italia!).
Good luck with the trip tomorrow. Keep me updated and stay positive—you really are amazing! xxx
Normally gettingup this early on a Sunday was a struggle, but I was relieved to be doing stuff and was looking forward to going to the beach and feeling the sun on my skin.
I popped on my jean shorts, a khaki t-shirt and also a black jumper, as it might be a bit chilly this time in the morning. I packed the leggings I’d worn on the Taste Holidays trip in my bag for later this evening and headed downstairs. As I waited at reception, I glanced at the weather forecast on display on the desk. Rain? Surely not?
‘Excuse me,’ I said to the stocky, suited man behind the desk, who was typing away on the computer in front of him. ‘It says on this forecast that there will be rain in Florence today. But is it likely to be raining in Cinque Terre too?’
‘Possibly, madam,’ he replied.
Don’t know if it’s just me, but being called ‘madam’ always made me feel about ninety.
‘Oh…I thought it would be sunny at this time of year,’ I said. ‘Do I have time to run upstairs and grab a brolly, I mean an umbrella?’
‘Sì, signora. If you are quick,’ he said.
I hurried to my room, unlocked my case, pulled out my umbrella and locked it again.
Should I bring my coat? Nah, it’d be too heavy to carry that around all day, and as I had packed sandals, snacks, water and a book for the journey, my bag already weighed a ton. This was beautiful Italy, not England, so if there was a little shower, it probably wouldn’t last long.
Oh dear…first the rain started trickling gently down the coach windows, but within five minutes it became torrential.You have got to be kidding me. All of the women in their spaghetti-strapped tops and cropped shorts started to lookverynervous. Like me, they must have thought that, as we were visiting beach towns in Italy, somehow it automatically guaranteed sunshine.
The rest of the day could only be described as being like a school trip from hell.
Luckily for me, I had my leggings to wear over my shorts (not a good look, even for the new me), a thin scarf, which I tried to use to cover my hair in a bid to stop it exploding into a ball of frizz, and my umbrella. But the rain was so heavy, even that was futile. We scrambled to the nearest tourist shop to buy flimsy plastic ponchos, which helped marginally, but we were in the middle of a storm. Why oh why hadn’t I packed my bloody coat! Had living in London not taught me anything? Never leave home without preparing for every conceivable meteorological possibility.
I had a flashback to when I was a student and had gone up to Kings Cross to do some research at the British Library. When I left the house, it was sunny, but I got out of the tube station it was raining, and then when I left the library a few hours later it was snowing. And this was in March! Three seasons in one day. Only in the UK, right? Well, evidently not…
My blue canvas shoes were now black and completely soaked through—it was like walking in a bath with slippers on. If I’d known I would be auditioning for the role of a drowned rat, I would’ve asked to attend the casting in London and stayed at home.
Not only was it raining, but it was windy and freezing cold too. Frankly, it made the British weather seem tropical. What’s more, it was only 11 a.m. and the coach wouldn’t be picking us up until 5 p.m., so I had six hours of this nightmare still to endure. Aaaarrrgghh!
