I Leave Tuscany «

I Leave Tuscany

Monday 29th August 2011

…not, I hope, for the very last time but certainly after three very happy weeks and knowing beyond doubt that it is in a very much better state than when found. Only on Thursday, Captain Blond Multi insisted that handle of the swimming pool fishing net, unfortunately protruding into view from the pool lounging area, be moved out of sight. For the Farewell/Welcome dinner (farewell to me, Laura Malcolm and Matt Driver; welcome to Bruce MacBain and Tancredo Viamare), the Photo Multi achieved miracles with candles and placed chairs before the unswitch-off-able electric lights to subdue them.

Captain Blond was much exercised all the day as to how a Greeting/Farewell dinner could be menu-ed. The Photo Multi thought a flambé might express the explosive joy of arrival as well as the burning tragedy of departure. In the end his symphony of candles in the baronial courtyard of the villa where the dinner was set was festive with sombre undertones.

The Multis have been marvellous this holiday, their provision and lavishment beyond compare. £4000 on fayne waynes alone, we reckon; and no price to pay, really no price to pay. Unlike loathed Smallmeal and Limpney, former friends,whose Glyndebourne, Covent Garden, Ivy, Tuscan villa and weekends at Massivebury were carefully aimed through the sights of a rifle. Execution might occur at any moment and, in my case, did.

The thing is, after the farewell/greeting dinner, we got through to the beyond, or tried to.

As I mentioned, Carol Earle had gained from one of the great museums of New York a day or two before. Conversation acquired a new rigour. We had topics. You’d have been astonished had you been there, which you weren’t. Adelaide, Elsa Hodgeman’s daughter, explained the iconography of Lady Gaga: the idea is she’s quite plain and ordinary, but look at her! Look at how she’s elaborated and made something of herself. Her fans do not worship from afar, but are embraced and given treats. Other topics included: why women live longer than men, what the new generation takes from the old and ….inheritance tax. This was fielded by Matt Driver, the media mogul and husband of Laura Malcolm (Laura and I, Adrian Edge, her gay friend, work together as necessary, to supervise him.) He wants it at 100%. Captain Blond and the Photo Multi agreed. They’re all hideously self-made. I put my handbag arm forward and said: ‘This is state socialism by any other name,’ which is what Margaret (I’m swaying more and more towards her) said about the 1983 Labour Party manifesto. The Photo Multi’s reason was that those who inherit money are more likely to be Leftie. He pronounced this then was overcome with mirth. I should mention too that there were a considerable number of lemon squeezers in his bedroom, bought at the Co-op for the attractive colours.

Anyway, Bruce MacBain and Tancredo Viamare arrived at the villa on Thursday evening. They’d been all over Italy in a Smart car looking for mini Mozzarellas. Of course, Bruce MacBain turned out to know all the same people as Elsa Hodgeman and her mother, Lady Newell (she was a bit naughty about the topics; her iPod always seemed to require attention as one was underway).

After the Farewell/Greeting dinner, I was going to bed in my suite when Tancredo Viamare came banging on the door, proposing a séance. ‘Can we get Granny back?’ I cried. But no, only the spirits of the house apparently. We sat around a table, holding hands. I thought: if I nearly fall asleep (it was 1.30 a.m) maybe I’ll believe in it enough.

But no spirits were forthcoming. Bruce and Tancredo made out that they get through to the beyond on a regular basis. I don’t believe a word of it.

It’s all a tremendous hoax.

So, the next day, Matt Driver and Laura and I, Adrian Edge, boarded at Florence for City airport. By luck, and on a non-paying basis, we managed to occupy the whole of Premier Plus Class, which was no different from the rest but at the front. Matt sat alone in the absolute front row with that air of stillness and head in papers (although there were no papers) that business greatnesses in transit have. People were looking and wondering. ‘This is what I’m used to,’ Matt said.

Now, I’m back in my sacred homeland, and Tuscany is so far, far away.