A few years ago, just before we became marito and moglia, Signor Seriousimo and I travelled from our practical home at the time, Londra, to our spiritual home, La Costa Amalfi, for a long weekend. That weekend lives on in the mistiest, dreamiest recesses of our memories.
What’s that got to do with a lime spliced g+t on a Tuesday night, I hear you ask.
Well, everything. On that minibreak, we stayed at the Santa Caterina, and had drinks and dinner at the divine Sirenuse hotel in Positano (where Miss A had her honeymoon,
cow), and these were the vessels from which we sipped. Amazing Carlo Moretti glasses, produced especially for the hotel. We called our bank, extended our overdrafts and bought two. Somehow, though, that never seemed enough. So on our return to London, we instigated a signficant capital raising, headed to Selfridges with the proceeds (us to puchasers of our debt paper: “we promise you’ll get your money back — and more!”) and bought a further six. All different, all hand-blown and coloured. Ye gods how I still love them.
Nearly had a cardiac infarction when a friend housesat for us once and we arrived home to see they’d gone for a spin in the dishwasher.
Speaking of los nuptialos, here’s what I wore on my noggin. Feast your eyes. Gratuitous pics of this will appear from time to time here at La’s virtual home, because — let’s face it — they can.
Yep, seriously. La Mamma Seriousimo happened to be friends with a man who was very Plugged In in the jewels world, and very generous with it too. To cut La long story short, this sparkly puppy winged its way to me pre-nuptials in a Tesco bag just in time for the big day. Truth be told, I wasn’t sure what gave me more joy that day: snagging Seriousimo or wearing the tiara. (Just as well Signor Seriousimo still doesn’t believe in blogs and will never read this.)
Sometimes, like now, I think about La Tiara and wish I could wear it every day, everywhere. To the Wordporium, to the bath, to bed. Til death or an over-zealous metal detector do us part.
This is La Nonna Joan and La Aunty Nola at the Trivialista-Seriousimo nuptial celebrations. Neither is with us anymore, and the world is infinitely poorer for it. *Sobs*
It’s coming up to La wedding anniversary, and ritual dictates we head to Tetsuya. Generally, we eat our weight in bread rolls smeared with truffle and parmesan butter, then battle bravely through 11 more courses. La normally opts for the extra oyster course too. The jovial sommelier, Stuart Halliday, always pretends to remember us and welcomes us like old friends. We love this; I lap it up like oyster liquor.
Have a sparkly Tuesday.