Sunday 2 September 2007

A Taste for Marble (Preface)

I have returned in body, but my heart and soul seem to have been left behind in Italy. It happens every year, and memory reassures me that it will be only temporary; so that by tomorrow or the next day, I shall have accustomed myself to looking out upon a London street and not the Tuscan hills, my feet will have become inured to the rough warmth of carpeted floors instead of the cool smoothness of marble - and I shall be in a frame of mind from which to write and post a new instalment of the story.

It was Mutley I think, who doubted that I should be able to write a word when once the charm of Tuscany had taken hold, and I have to admit that he was absolutely right. I did try, but the enchantment was too great – and even had I been able to get an internet connection for more than three minutes at a time, I doubt that I’d have been able to do much more than endlessly (and tediously) rhapsodise.

I have returned to find many kind comments from friends however, and I thank you all most warmly for not forgetting me. Soon, I shall be back among you whole-heartedly again, telling my own story, and doing my best to catch up on all the interesting and exciting things that you must all have been writing and posting in my absence.

Before that can happen though, I have an explanation and an apology to make. I committed a rather serious topographical error when I spoke of the hills above Florence. I had intended to site the Macauley villa there, as it is a place I love well. But our own villa was situated in the Lucchese, not the Florentine hills; and I now feel that for authenticity’s sake I ought to stick with what I know best, and must therefore ask readers who know the areas in question, to be kind enough to make the required locational leap from Florence to Lucca.

A Taste for Marble, the instalment proper, will follow shortly...

9 comments:

Omega Mum said...

Oooh, it's going to be tough making geographical concessions of that seriousness, but I expect I, and your other readers, will come to terms with it after a modicum of counselling. Did you have a good time?

I Beatrice said...

Such a gloriously good time, OM, that I'm no longer fitted for ordinary life! How can I adjust to the absence of vistas, for a start.... at the villa, there was a Leonardo background from every window.

Thank you for coming so promptly to break the ice though. The next instalment has been brewing all the while in Tuscany, and will no doubt emerge in the fullness of time. Shall be over to visit you shortly.

Anonymous said...

I look forward to seeing what Lady M makes of the Lucchese hills, am also just back from hols!

I Beatrice said...

You'll know the feeling then, Anon - I'm a very long way just yet from knowing what Lady M made of the Lucchese hills, myself!

debio said...

But you will never return with soul intact from Italy - it grabs the spirit, remoulds and only returns in re-formed state.

I am moving with you from Florence to Lucca - and can't wait for your thoughts.

So hope you had a good time - makes a trip to the UK seem even more pedestrian.

I Beatrice said...

Thank you Debio, I'm glad you understand. I'm having the most awful trouble getting back into the spirit of blogging again, but am not yet defeated.

A trip to the UK can never be pedestrian though. I mean - the land of Dickens and Shakespeare and all that? Even Italy doesn't quite have the equivalent of those two.

I can't help remembering how instantly London felt like home to me besides, when I arrived here from NZ as a frightened girl, all those many years ago.

merry weather said...

Glad you're back, sounds like you've had a super holiday...

debio said...

Oh, iBeatrice, I think you are so much more culture-aware than I.

I love Shakespeare - hate Dickens - but I love opera more; and also Italian men in leather loafers without socks - the only nationality who can carry that one off!

I know - call me superficial...

I Beatrice said...

Oh, but to hate Dickens! How can I bear that? But I love opera too,

And have a son (the one who hires gorgeous villas in Tuscany for us), who wears his loafers without socks just as well as any Italian. Or so it seems to me, his proud Mum...