Non è farina del mio sacco

To succeed with the opposite sex, tell her you’re impotent. She can’t wait to disprove it.

Cary Grant

 

#blueastheskymovie

#lifeloveandhandbags

#damnrichardcurtis

 

 

I was outside Summer’s work at five past three. I sat there and watched as she came out of work.

“Leaving work early and going away. Perfect.”

We talked about work on the way up. She told me how busy she was, doing twelve and thirteen-hour days and going in at the weekends just to keep up. I told her all the things she already knew, she would get ill, she would burn out.

And her reply was she would love to do something different, but she didn’t know what.

We pulled up to the hotel, which looked amazing, like something out of Downton Abbey. A big house with a fountain and perfectly arranged lawns. I struggled in with all the bags and staggered into the wide entrance hall.

Chivalry gave me backache.

It was all creams and browns, with a big sofa one end and a huge green shrub in a pot the other.

“Are you hungry?” I felt like I needed to whisper. We stood in reception waiting for an old woman with the stoop to come back with our key.

Summer nodded.

“We’ll go, get changed and then go out.”

She shuffled back and looked at us in turn.

“Twin room? Two nights?”

I blushed and nodded. I had to admit, it did sound slightly dodgy.

“Room 214, up the stairs and round to the left.”

I could feel her watching us as we walked up the stairs. I think she was trying to work out ‘what we were’.

I bagsied the bathroom first, showered and changed.

“I’ll wait for you downstairs in the bar.” Summer was sat on the bed cross-legged, watching TV.

I didn’t want her to feel awkward. I had already given her the double bed, the single would be fine for me.

I waited in the bar and ordered diet coke.

She came down about half an hour later.

“Sorry I took so long.”

She was dressed in jeans and a low cut pink top. I didn’t realise how tiny she actually was.

“Do you want a drink here?”

“Let’s just go eat, I’m starving.”

She was so small, I anticipated the bread roll on the table would make her full, but that was fine.

We walked out of reception and down the road. It was warm and the street was busy. The streets were full of couples enjoying their night out, all walking hand in hand and looking happy.

We picked ‘Coliseum’, an Italian restaurant with huge windows in the front and a marble floor. It was only half full and the waiter showed us to a quiet table in the corner.

“Can I take your drinks order?”

“I will have a diet coke with no ice and also can we have a bottle of house white wine?”

The waiter looked at Summer. “And for you madam?”

“The wine is for her.”

She blushed. As he walked away she leaned forward.

“Thanks. Now he thinks I’m some old drunk.”

“I didn’t realise he’d met you before.”

She hit me with a bread stick. “I will be so drunk by the end of the night. You are a bad

influence.”

I smiled and went to the loo. When I came back, she was laughing.

“What?”

“The waiter came over and asked if it was really true the wine was only for me. I have never been so embarrassed.”

“Surely you have. Sorry.”

“Liar.”

The waiter soon came back.

“Your spaghetti madam. Your pasta sir.”

The food was lovely and we both cleared our plates. It was the most I had eaten in weeks.

“Would you like dessert?” Summer had now worked her way through most of the wine.

“Ice cream please.” She said.

“Make that two please.”

 

N.B The meaning of the Italian is ‘It wasn’t my idea.’

 

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