Here's a quick run through how each one of my days has been since I arrived here in Milan last Sunday night: Wake up at some point between 7 and 7.30 a.m. in my hotel room. It looks like I am now a preferred guest because I have been given a massive room with my own terrace, which would have been great if it were June, but is absolutely useless at this time of the year. The temperature has been hovering somewhere between zero and ten degrees so the doors have stayed closed and will remain so until I leave.
Even though I've been tempted to have breakfast in my room every morning, I've always ended up going to the restaurant because it's a bit depressing to spend the first couple of hours in a room lined in green damask. It's fine at night with the lights on, but in the morning, with little or no daylight coming in, it feels a bit like a coffin - and that's no way to get going, especially since I need to be full of beans for a full day ahead.
Once I've broken my fast, which usually happens at around 10 a.m., it's time to get going. The driver will be waiting outside to take me to pick up my boss and then go off for a day's work at the factories. I won't elaborate on that, except to say that it's like being in a cross between The Devil Wears Prada and Absolutely Fabulous. Still, I'm told that there are people who would kill for my job, so I'm not complaining.
Lunch is a few panini and tonnes of sweets, which keep the sugar levels high and the brain cells going. Sometimes it feels like a marathon, running from one side of the factory to the other, picking up materials and screaming at Italians who seem to take things con molto calma. To think that I used to be a calm person once upon a time!
At 6 p.m., the driver arrives, although that doesn't necessarily mean that it's time to leave. The poor man has been known to have waited for a couple of hours until we are finished, to then drive us back into the city. I would love to say that my evenings are spent in fancy restaurants with the rich and beautiful Milanese (who are nowhere to be seen), but the truth is that I've only eaten out once - every other meal has been brought up to my room on a tray, and quickly consumed before a warm bath and bedtime. How glamorous is that?
Tonight, I'm just about keeping my eyes open to write this as my bath fills up. If I manage to stay up, I've got a treat planned: I've finally managed to get my hands on a film I've waited about 25 years to get my hands on. An old Dino Risi film starring Monica Vitti called Noi donne siamo fatte cosi, which I saw with my cousins on television back in the days when colour was illegal and which we have been dying to see again since. So I'm going to sign off now, until next week.
Even though I've been tempted to have breakfast in my room every morning, I've always ended up going to the restaurant because it's a bit depressing to spend the first couple of hours in a room lined in green damask. It's fine at night with the lights on, but in the morning, with little or no daylight coming in, it feels a bit like a coffin - and that's no way to get going, especially since I need to be full of beans for a full day ahead.
Once I've broken my fast, which usually happens at around 10 a.m., it's time to get going. The driver will be waiting outside to take me to pick up my boss and then go off for a day's work at the factories. I won't elaborate on that, except to say that it's like being in a cross between The Devil Wears Prada and Absolutely Fabulous. Still, I'm told that there are people who would kill for my job, so I'm not complaining.
Lunch is a few panini and tonnes of sweets, which keep the sugar levels high and the brain cells going. Sometimes it feels like a marathon, running from one side of the factory to the other, picking up materials and screaming at Italians who seem to take things con molto calma. To think that I used to be a calm person once upon a time!
At 6 p.m., the driver arrives, although that doesn't necessarily mean that it's time to leave. The poor man has been known to have waited for a couple of hours until we are finished, to then drive us back into the city. I would love to say that my evenings are spent in fancy restaurants with the rich and beautiful Milanese (who are nowhere to be seen), but the truth is that I've only eaten out once - every other meal has been brought up to my room on a tray, and quickly consumed before a warm bath and bedtime. How glamorous is that?
Tonight, I'm just about keeping my eyes open to write this as my bath fills up. If I manage to stay up, I've got a treat planned: I've finally managed to get my hands on a film I've waited about 25 years to get my hands on. An old Dino Risi film starring Monica Vitti called Noi donne siamo fatte cosi, which I saw with my cousins on television back in the days when colour was illegal and which we have been dying to see again since. So I'm going to sign off now, until next week.