The Sink Was Full Of Fishes

Jill came back home for Xmas 94, and later he got to return the hosting he had received in Belpaese.So it happened in that infamous March 1995 I was actually living alongside Riccardo and others in the most trendy and involving Town ever,a music Heaven which then was having just one element really "new", namely the level of advertising around about its supposed goodness.A few deserving exceptions in the PR and record companies presumptious newcomers were Tricky and Portishead but you try and ask even today in Italy who the hell are they, and beside some rare hyper-fanatic of trip-hop you'll (sadly) face high-fidelity imitations of a question mark.
I was in a really complex mind state back then, since the big Love of my life had quitted me, and I was determined to not give up at him yet, faithful I was having chances to gain him back. Not that easy, we were normally living something like 300 kilometres far away from one another, and even less easy thinkin we were so massively proud, the both of us, but I wanted him mine still, and his worried reactions on the eve of my travel for the four months-long staying in England made me happy and satisfied while cheering him on the phone. He acted like I was offending him with my choice to fly away. "Four months up there?My God, your English's so lame!How will you interact there?"Great way for disguising some disappointment or?..."And that's the reason I decided to go for actually:I'll get better at it being forced to use nothing else but it, don't you think?"
At the airport, mum was looking like one of the Ancient Romans "Prefiche", who were payed to cry out desperatly at funerals: pale and wet-eyed,all nerves tensed and the mouth which was like painted with an unnatural line tending down below.Pity her!It's hard to have a daughter like me, someone who's so stubborn that she couldn't care less if the idea she thinks is genious one would result to the whole rest of the world anything but foolish, like when I told her: "I want to reach a perfect command of English, and at Uni they adviced me to make it now, at the start of the classes: why should I miss this opportunity I've got to stay in London thanx to dad's contacts he offered me?I won't, I can't avoid to exploit my resources...I won't actually miss anything basilar out, and I'll prepare the firts two exams by myself so don't worry at all!"
My parents couldn't do anything against my will,at 19 I was a really talented strategist already, and it has always been a wasted effort to try to change my mind when I am convinced of my resolutions;and moreover, when I am fed enough with discussions, I use my skill at being nicely naughty which wins everyone's over in the fastest of ways.Yeah, I am lazy as hell, you know...
To fly around on planes has lost its charme nowadays,but some years ago they were bed of roses to me: every single cloud under the wings like I was watching from that slight hole they keep on tipping as windscreen was spectacular...To see all France from 10000 meters, what a magic!It was like watching a toucheable map...On that plane, I had no bad thoughts with me, no minding over the un-eatable cooking of British people, no bad vibes over the new habits I would have got to religiously follow, nothing capable of ruin my expecting mood.Ilaria, my best friend had chosen to fly in London with me and it was all I could have asked for, so nothing to fear then, only marvellous chances to take in full.I was unable to hold myself, and there was too much anguish in Italy...
A bit strangely to me, my friend and I accommodated exactly at Jill's, who was still living at family's unlike the majority of Britons at his age.Now that was really a top lodging, cos even if it was not the most massive of buildings in its rich neighborood,Jill's house got 4 bedrooms, 3 bathrooms (one furnished with a bidet!!)a huge living room, 2 study rooms and a kitchen sized like a sort of hangar. Watching out from our second floor balcony, Ilaria and I could see Saint John's Wood water canals and elegant roads, which concur to give to this part of London the name of Little Venice for its much sought-after atmosphere.One of the first curiosity Jill revealed to us was that not that further in the corner road was living sometimes none less than Paul McCartney and that he got to bump in his daughter Stella (the stilist!) more than once.Stunning, don't you think? Anyway,I fell in love with Dowland's house,fascinated due to the balanced elegance it was informed with, especially in the living room, which was dominated by this gigantic and yet not exaggerated fireplace, ready to communicate to all people sit down there a feeling of warmeness and peace.Classy, that's what any similar living room is.