Sweet Sharing

I think I may have mentioned in a previous post the Italian tradition of "confetti". Not the paper stuff that is so hard to sweep up and that you find under the couch two years after that really super New Year's Eve party, but the small packets of sugared almonds given as gifts to the guests at weddings, christenings, first communions and other grand events. We were in Firenze for the day on Wednesday and in typical fashion I had an idea where the restaurant we were headed to was located but took a  wrong turn and went passed a store that's sole purpose was to dispense - at no doubt astronomical prices - sweets to delight your guests and make the sisters of the mother-of-the-bride cluck their tongues in jealous righteousness at the expense of it all.

I thought I'd share two pictures of those sweet delights and also share the sweet delights offered by two of my dear blog buddies while I was at it.

As with so many window displays here this one has a touch of class and elegance about it without quite being over-the-top.  This whole shop just oozed "expensive"

Rosina Daintymouth - that's the name of the witch in Humperdinck's Hansel and Gretal - isn't the only one to make gingerbread houses to tempt unsuspecting innocents.  Over at She Who Seeks my blog buddy Debra chronicles the Gingerbread Houses that her Rare One, who is not - I might add - a witch, has constructed over the years to tempt her - nor I am implying that Debra is an "innocent". So before I get myself into further trouble just click on the link and take a look at some tasty temptations.  

The elaborate packaging - flowers, faux-pearls, ribbons - hide the simplest of sweets: sugared almonds.  It would almost be a shame to open the packages and I have a feel that more than one nonna has a collection from family events on display in her china cabinet.

My friend Yvette and I often seem to be on the same track with postings and memories. Last week I wrote about presepe here and she shared a comment about her own crèche. Now she has written a lovely post recounting her childhood memories of growing up in Marseilles after the war and the delightful traditions that she encountered then and continues today. It fills my heart with joy to see that the rituals of a Provencal Christmastide are alive, well and being passed on to her grandchildren. And I wish I had a piece of that gâteaux des Rois and a glass of the vin cuit.

14 gennaio - Santa Macrina l'Anziana

And He Confound the Language of All the Earth ...

Languages are filled with "false friends" - anyone who speaks Spanish or French runs up against them constantly in Italian. But its not exclusive to the Romance languages. An anglophone could be forgiven for responding with a list of their University degrees if being told by an Italian that they were maleducato (badly brought up) though the Italian would wonder if all holders of Doctorates were ill-mannered.

And an Italian would be equally puzzled and a little concerned if you said you had bought "confetti" to throw at a wedding. I mean "confetti" is perfectly acceptable at a marriage, baptism or even a graduation but if you throw it here someone could get an eye put out.

My colleague Antonella is getting married today and she distributed the traditional "confetti" in the office yesterday. All the guests at her wedding will receive one of these little tulle bags.


Bedecked and beribboned it holds one of my favorites sweets - "confetti" - sugared or Jordan almonds. They are said to represent both the wish that a couple will have a fertile marriage and to remind them of the bittersweet nature of any relationship.

So here the bridge and groom will give their guests "confetti" and I will go to a shop and buy "coriandoli" to throw at them. And no I will not be throwing a pungent smelling green much beloved in Mexican cooking, that would be "coriandolo". Language is so complicated!

10 ottobre - San Tommaso di Villanova

A Taste for la Pasqua

La Pasqua (Easter) is next week and as well as the observations across the river - I'm told Big Ben and boys have a real bang up series of events planned - Italian families will be celebrating the holiday gathering for traditional meals. Every region has its particular foods or dishes associated with Easter though most include lamb as a main course. Last year, at my friends Simonetta and Renato's we began with broad beans, pecorino cheese and sausage. I don't recall if this was a Roman tradition or just a household one, but I do know it was a traditional start to the Easter meal.

Renato is cutting the sausage to accompany the pecorino and broad beans. Simon, Simonetta, Alberto Testa (a renowned Italian dancer, choreographer and critic) and Renato enjoy the beginning of the meal.

Natale con i tuoi, la Pasqua con chi vuoi -- "Christmas at home and Easter with whomever you wish" is an old Italian saying but most people still try to spend Easter weekend with families. However given distances and time it is not always possible. Take for example my friend Marco - you may recall he's the Napoletano who was teaching us to swear a while back. His family is not able to be together this Easter so he's heading down to Napoli this weekend. And even though he may not be getting to enjoy a traditional Napoletano Easter meal, he is going to be keeping up at least one local tradition: La Pastiera. Though many families leave the making of this Easter pastry to their local pasticceria, he tells me that his mother has always made her own and for many years its been a tradition for him to work along side her.

When I asked about her recipe he shrugged and said: About the recipe, I think every Napoletano has his own. A check on the Internet revealed the truth in his statement. The variations in preparation time and measurements are many but the basics remain the same: wheat kernels, candied citron, candied orange peel, orange flower water, and fresh ricotta.

There are several versions of how the recipe began. First there is the old legend of the mermaid Partenope and her use of the gifts given to her by the people of the Gulf. There is another story that says, like many things Napoletano, the sweet was born out of a time of want and hunger. The city had been gripped in a long famine and just before Easter a grain ship arrived. People were so hungry that rather than grind the wheat for bread they threw it directly into boiling water. Still another story suggests a nun in one of the many convents in Napoli was making a dolci for Easter and wanted to capture the scent of the orange blossoms in the cloister - thus orange flower water became a main ingredient.

Whichever story you choose to believe I have been told that it is possible to taste spring in every bite. And my friend Jolka tells me you can only get authentic Napoletano Pasteria one place in Roma. However Marco scoffs at that thought - he assures me that it isn't Pasteria if it isn't made in the shadow of Vesuvius and then is really only authentic if it comes from his mother's kitchen!

Maybe I should just ask him to save a piece and bring it back for me? I just wonder what the chances are of there being any left at the end of Sunday's dinner.

Here are a few sites that have recipes for "Authentic" Napoletano Pasteria:

http://www.eat-online.net/english/habits/easter/pastiera_napoletana.htm

http://www.dianasdesserts.com/index.cfm/fuseaction/recipes.recipeListing/filter/dianas/recipeID/128/Recipe.cfm

http://www.bakingobsession.com/2008/03/21/neapolitan-ricotta-and-wheat-berry-easter-pie-pastiera-napoletana/

And back in 1990 the New York Sunday Times published a Neapolitan Easter Menu that included a recipe for the traditional desert.

03 aprile - San Luigi Scrosoppi

Epiphania II

The streets were deserted this morning as I walked to work - the normal din of traffic at the main intersection of Regina Margherita and Nomentana totally stilled. The buses and trams are empty and most bars and shops are closed for the day. January 6th is a holiday in Italy - for everyone except us it would appear. Theoretically it is the Feast of the Epiphany but really is is a celebration of La Befana, a folkloric figure who's name may well be a corruption of the word Epiphania.

I wrote about her, her story and some of the traditions surrounding her last year at this time. I've since come across a slightly darker telling of her story. According to one legend she was an simple woman with a child she loved with all her heart. When the child died she became mad in her grief. When she heard of the birth of Jesus she set out to find him, in her madness believing him to be her lost child. When she found the Christ Child she presented him with simple gifts of sweets and oranges. The delighted infant smiled and gave La Befana a gift in return: for one brief night each year she would be the mother of all the children in Italy.

Though the tradition continues of La Befana bringing gifts on the eve of Epiphany, I noticed a very subtle change from last year - more of the Befani being sold at the Christmas market in Piazza Navona resembled witches. Now my friend Vin was very specific last year - La Befana is not a witch, she does not wear a pointed hat but a headscarf. Her face is not evil, only wrinkled and ugly and sooty from coming down the chimney. But even the windows (at the right) of Dagnino, the Sicilian confectionery, had Befani that resemble Halloween witches more than the old lady of Italy folklore. The only reason I can think of for the change in persona is that what's made for Halloween in North American can also be used for Befana in Italy. I hope that isn't the reason but I fear it may well be.

One friend told me he recalls that when he was a child the night before Epiphania was the most magical time of the year. And though Babo Natale may be slowly taking over I'm sure that last night it was the same for children throughout Italy. La Befana, pointed hat or not, made her rounds, visiting the children; leaving the traditional gifts of sweets, pastries and fruits for the good children and lumps of coal for the bad ones. And perhaps still looking for her lost child.

Just a side note: it is traditional here to leave out a biscuit and a glass of wine for La Befana - and quite often the tipple will be the same as the favorite libation of the master of the house. Strange how these things work.

06 gennaio - La Epiphania

Three Keys in the Fountain

No I haven't got the lyrics wrong - for anyone who might just remember the old movie with Dorothy McGuire mooning over Clifton Webb (whatever was Dorothy thinking mooning over Clifton Webb????????)

It nice to see that there are less people around town now that tourist season is officially over.

Down at Fonatana di Trevi the best vantage point for picture taking is the portico of the Chiesi di Santi Vincenzo e Anastasio. Though I've been there several times I had never noticed these padlocks hanging from the railings surrounding the steps.


So what was this? A new form of thank offering to the Saints for favours granted? A prayer token in the Chinese style? A whole lot of bike locks that had been left behind?

No to all three. These are lucchetti d'amore(padlocks of love) - the latest trend in declaring your undying love. Apparently the tradition (can something three years old be a tradition?) started on a lamp post at Ponte Milvio and now has spread to a more upscale neighbourhood. After writing names on the lock, you attach it the fence and then throw the key, as a symbol of your deathless passion, into the fountain.

Which one will the fountain choose?

15 ottobre - Santa Teresa d'Avila

We Gather Together ...

And no I'm not early with this wish - for Canadians this weekend is Thanksgiving - hey the harvests come earlier when you live in an igloo! Also our holiday is based on the old Church of England calender which designated the second Sunday of October as Harvest Thanksgiving.

I remember this Hymn from my childhood as we celebrated the harvest in our small parish church - I love the pure Englishness of it being matched with what is obviously more than a flower show in this video.

We've celebrated Thanksgiving in Mexico, Egypt, Poland and when we lived in Chicago we had two - ours in October and American Thanksgiving in November. This will be the second year we've celebrated here in Rome and we are breaking with a few traditions. Because Laurent is heading for Tokyo early Monday morning we are having our Thanksgiving meal on Sunday as lunch - but in true Roman style not until around 2 pm which means we'll finish at 8 pm.

Where food is concerned we're going fusion and I don't mean tomato sauce on everything. Our Thanksgiving meal has always started with Smokey Pumpkin Soup but this year that will be replaced by Pumpkin Ravioli in a red pepper-cream sauce followed by the more traditional fare of the season with a few small changes. Its almost impossible to get a whole turkey here - the butcher looks at you as if you're mad that you would think he would even have such a thing. But you can buy turkey breast, thighs and drumsticks - though again when you ask for the whole breast the butcher regards you with some suspicion because you aren't asking him to cut it into scallops - so our guests will be dinning on turkey bits! And rather than the traditional green along with their whipped potatoes (with prosciutto and mozzarella) and glazed carrots our guests will be having sauted chicory with garlic and grilled zucchini. Desert will remain as it always has been, my friend Naomi's incredible Apple Mousseline with Zabaglione sauce - there are some traditions you just don't play with - except we just may get some fresh fig or chestnut gelato to go with it. Or maybe both!

One tradition that will continue is celebrating the festival with friends. Our old friend Ron and his partner Gord will be arriving early Sunday morning and joining us and our Roman friends Larry and Vin. I've lost count of the number of holiday meals we've shared with Ron but it will be wonderful to have him and Gord here with us this year.

To all our other friends - we wish we could gather around the table with you as we have in years past but as lunch starts on Sunday we'll be toasting you one and all.

And I leave you with this little poem from my friend Carole Collette:

May your stuffing be tasty
May your turkey plump,
May your potatoes and gravy
Have never a lump.
May your yams be delicious
And your pies take the prize,
And may your Thanksgiving dinner
Stay off your thighs!

09 ottobre - San Daniele Comboni

Name the Day

At dinner last night our good friend Larry surprised Laurent by presenting him with a holy card (above) and wishing him a "Happy Name Day vigil." And indeed today is the Feast Day of Saint Lawrence (Laurent, Lorenzo,)Deacon and Martyr, after whom Laurent was named.

Though not as widely observed here in Italy as in some countries (Poland for example where it is more important than a birthday)a Name Day or Onomastico is still a cause for celebration in some parts of the country. Laurent has decided that a celebration and a gift would be in order. On both those counts he is going to be sadly disappointed.

Larry mentioned that, to the best of his knowledge, there was no Saint William so I was out of luck. WRONG LARRY WRONG!! I found three so I have my choice: January 10th - St William of Bourges; June 8th - St William of York; or June 25th - St William the Abbot.

Perhaps I should reconsider that celebration and gift idea of Laurent's, I could make out like a bandit!

Correction: Along with a slightly revisionist take on last evening's conversation Larry e-mailed me a list of 61 Saint Williams (though a few go by several variations of their name - a saintly trait that I myself have emulated - so its probably more like 50.) Still it could make for a not bad haul.

10 agosto - San Lorenzo

Supper with Friends

Lately I've found that little things are triggering memories - it may be a word, a picture, a sound, something on the street or even a taste or smell. Suddenly a long-forgotten event or person springs to mind.

And they went, and found as he had said unto them; and they made ready the passover. And when the hour was come, he sat down, and the twelve apostles with him.

St. Luke 22;13-14.

We were strolling near the Cathedral in Athens last Saturday around an area of shops that specialize in church adornments. When I saw this icon in a store window memories of Holy Week at my old Anglican parish in Toronto came flooding back and with them one name: Elizabeth Lemberger.

Elizabeth was an Austrian Jew who had converted to Anglicanism after her escape to England at the onset of the Anchluss. Alone at the end of the war she immigrated to Toronto and became part of an incredible parish family at St Thomas - Huron St. Every year after the Vigil and First Mass of Easter a group of us would gather in Elizabeth's cramped apartment over a laundromat on Bloor St for a Passover supper. She would prepare many of the traditional Seder dishes and a few recipes she remembered from her childhood to share with her extended parish family. For her it was a way of remembering and celebrating the faith of her birth and the faith it gave birth to and the family she lost with a family she had found.

It has been over 30 years since I sat at one of those dinners and 15 years now since I last saw her, we lost touch as I moved around the world. But as I looked at that icon last Saturday the memory of her ladling hot, savory, aromatic broth into a bowl of broken matzo was as vivid as though it were yesterday.

22 marzo - Sabato Santo

Candle in the Wind

As I mentioned in an earlier post there are shrines all over the city. Many are built into the walls that surround estates or courtyards and are tended to by local societies or confraternities. Flowers, petitions and candles are left imploring the protection or favour of the Saint being honoured - in most cases Santa Maria Virgine. This particular shrine - to the Virgin - is set into the wall surrounding our Villa complex.


As well as the plastic flowers (at many shrines they are real and changed regularly) and petitions that are attached to the grill there has been a red votive candle on the ground in front of the shrine for the past two weeks. When the first burnt out it was replaced. What I as an non-Italian find unusual is this votive has sat on the ground totally unmolested for that long. The walls may be sprayed with graffiti, people may throw litter on the streets but that candle has not moved. And ours is a busy street with two embassies side-by-side and a very large elementary-junior school at one corner. You would think that a bright red glass votive holder would be the target for, at the least, a prank of some kind. But there it sits - burning, representing some one's intentions and concerns. Had this been back in Ottawa I'm pretty sure that within a day it would have been used as a football or stolen.

It says a lot about the power of traditions, and perhaps superstition, in this country.

28 febbraio - San Osvaldo

An Italian Christmas Tradition - La Befana

Last evening all over Italy, while children where sleeping, an old lady on a broomstick was flying into their homes and leaving presents in their stockings. The good boys and girls where receiving candy coins and other treats; the bad got the traditional lump of coal. La Befana may sound like Santa Claus but she's been around since the 13th century and though she may look like a witch her story is a touching one.
Babo Natale (Santa Claus) is making inroads but the tradition of La Befana - a corruption of the word Epifania (Epiphany)- is still very strong in most families here. Shop windows are filled with her image and dolls and figurines of the old lady are available all over town.
Strangely for Italy, a country obsessed with food traditions, there are no particular foods associated with La Befana. That doesn't stop the pastry shops from making up cakes and goodies. Of course, there's a a gold coin (chocolate) on the cakes for good luck. At our dinner tonight each guest will get a small bag of gold-foiled covered chocolate coins for good luck.

And we did go a little over board buying Befane this year. The one at the top of the page is currently guarding the china cabinet and these two are on our Christmas tree.

La Befana vien di notte
Con le scarpe tutte rotte
Col vestito alla romana
Viva, Viva La Befana!

La Befana comes by night
With her shoes old and broken
She comes dressed in the Roman way
Long life to the Befana!

Guess we have a new tradition in our house. Buono feste a tutti!

Update: Our friend Vincenzo tells me that last picture is actually a witch - La Befana would never wear a pointed cap. She always wears a headscarf. I still like her anyway.

06 gennaio - Epifania de Nostre Signore

The Traditions of Christmas - Advent Calenders

Advent Calenders, marking the days between the first day of Advent and Christmas Eve, are a Lutheran religious tradition that has found its way into the secular celebration of Christmas. Each day a window in the calender is opened to reveal a saying, a Christmas symbol or on more elaborate calenders chocolates or games. According to this delightful website - gloriously and badly translated from German into English - the first known calender was created in 1851. The tradition fell by the wayside during the Second World War and was revived after 1946. The website has a great display of historic calenders including a rather charming White House calender from the '50s.

The first few years we were together Laurent and I always had an Advent Calender in the house. I don't remember how the tradition started but I think we may have found a Sellmer Calender in a Horchow catalogue, when the luxury mail order house was still family run and had novel items. We continued the tradition for many years but over the past five or six it has fallen by the wayside.

This year we're reviving the tradition of opening a window each day on a unique Advent Calender. Our friend Larry has created his version of an Advent Calender on his blog, AmoRoma. Each day Larry posts a photo of a window here in Rome with a writing appropriate to the Advent season. I've posted a sidebar link to Larry's Advent Calender for anyone who'd like to join us in this tradition.

5 decembre - San Guilio

Parlo del Piu e del Meno - Le Tradizione di Natale

Several of my blog buddies have posted Christmas stories or Christmas features. And I thought it would be nice to share my friends posts for those of you who may not visit them.

• Over at Dulce y Peligroso RG shares the memory of the first Christmas after the death of his father and an unusual, and touching, celebration.


• His Boston Buddy Evilganome has an equally touching but frankly hysterical story of a wayward Christmas tree and his mother Doris.


• Auld Hat has the complete and utter History of those Reindeer that do all the hauling for the fat man.

05 decembre - San Guilio

Our Silver Balls

Oh for God's sake get your minds out of the gutters. I am talking about a beautiful tradition here.

The first Christmas that Laurent and I spent together was in 1979. It had been a year of firsts: we had our first apartment, our first vacation together, our first Christmas Eve open house, our first Christmas tree - artificial since himself is allergic to pine oil - and on that tree hung our first sterling silver Christmas ball from Neiman-Marcus engraved with the year. Now in 2007 we have 29 - one for each year we've been together.

In those early days the arrival of the N-M Christmas book, so unlike the dull uninspired thing it is today, was a major event: fun, full of surprises and unique things for Christmas. I ordered from it regularly - things that have become part of our Christmas tradtions. But the most important tradition has always been that Sterling Silver Christmas ball. Its simple, nothing more than the year engraved on it but each year no matter where we have lived - Mexico City, Cairo, Amman, Warsaw - somehow we've add one to our collection to celebrate another year together. Some years its been iffy however on Sunday our friend Robert came back from his Thanksgiving trip to Ohio with this year's addition.

Last year was a different story. Our friend Blake (Reese's Uncle Pervy) suggested that to save on duty (a whopping 45%) we send it to his friends in Up State New York. As we would be in Hong Kong at Christmas Blake would pick it up when he saw them at New Year's and our tradition would continue unbroken. Understand that Blake is one of our oldest and best-loved friends but he can be, well to be kind, a little forgetful at times.

• In the excitement of the season Blake forgets to mention the incoming parcel to his friends
• Unsolicited parcel arrives containing a silver ball with the year engraved on it and friends assume it is an appreciation gift from one of the many charities they contribute to over the year
• Not finding it to their taste they give it to a friend for his Christmas tree and 28 years of tradition goes up in smoke
• Blake trembles in fear at the prospect of telling me but I being a good and loving friend tell him between clenched teeth that it really does matter
• Blake being forgetful not stupid doesn't for a moment believe me and goes on to E-bay where he finds one for much less than I paid
• The tradition continues

However Laurent and I have agreed that next year - number 30 - may mark the end of the tradition. We're running out of room on the tree and its got to the point where - given how expensive our balls have become (oh stop it!!!) - the tree is now worth more than the gifts under it.

27 november - San Virgilio

Far San Martino (Doing the Saint Martin)

Sounds either like some sort of disco dance or a strange sexual position doesn't it. It actually means observing the traditions of the Feast of St Martin of Tours. There are all sorts of customs attached to this day throughout Europe and the Christian East.*

A stroll past the window of Dagnino today after our visit to the Rothko and Kubrick exhibitions introduced us to a few Sicilian food (of course) traditions.


We decided to observe a few of the traditions ouselves so we had a bottle of the Bordolino Novello with Sunday dinner and some biscotti di San Martino with our tea.

11 novembere - San Martino di Tours

*Many of the traditions are covered in this entry in Wilson's Almanac, however McAfee Site advisor suggesst that there may be chance of spyware attached to this site but a quick scan after several visits has revealed nothing thus far. Just thought it was only fair to give warning.

All Hallow's Eve

Halloween is not a tradition here in Italy but you wouldn't know it from the window displays in confectioneries, bars and pastry shops. Pumpkins, witches, ghosts and skeletons abound! The next two days will be the important one's - All Saint's tomorrow and All Soul's on Friday. In my acolyte days (not sure if I ever mentioned that I was an acolyte in the Anglican church for one period there) those were two of my favorite Feast Days. The glorious music and ritual of celebrating the Saints and commemorating the Souls of the Faithful Departed, at least in my parish, were theatre of the highest degree.



And speaking of theatre - take that for a link William Zinsser! - Gallery Met and The New Yorker have joined forces and mounted an exhibition of work by New Yorker artists based on Humperdink's Hansel und Gretal. The online slide show highlights some of the work on display - William Wegman's contribution is a hoot and Gahan Wilson's take on the H&G saga is, as always, wonderfully macabre. And Roz Chast gives the tale her own particular twist.

And speaking of opera - zap again Zinsser! - I'll have a post up about Oberto in Bussetto (sounds like a title for a Greek tragedy) shortly.


31 ottobre - Santa Lucilla

Nostalgia - Victoria Day

There was a time in this fair land when Victoria Day - the 24th of May - was a big celebration - at least in English Canada. We celebrated the reigning Monarch's birthday, commemorated Queen Victoria's birthday, cried hip-hooray for the British Empire and trumpeted our British heritage. It was all very WASP, all very jingoistic. A celebration of an Empire that was fading away.

On the Saturday cottages were opened for the summer and preparations made for the weekends events. On Sunday, after a suitably solemn service of Morning Prayer with special anthem, family and friends gathered for the first picnic of the year. We proudly strung Union Jacks and Red Ensigns from house to tree, ate our hot dogs (though my mother frowned on that - you never knew what they put in those things!), drank our lemonade and when it finally got dark lit our fireworks. The Burning School House was a great favorite but I particularly loved the fairy light fascination of the sparklers - shades of things to come?

On the Monday a street parade formed up at Horner Public School and marched the four blocks over to the Alderwood Community Park. Lead by the local scout troop (my brother proudly carrying the Union Jack), The Maple Leaf Forever blaring from a tinny speaker mounted on an old Ford pick-up, the Girl Guides giggling and waving their Union Jacks, followed by a throng of costumed kids with decorated bikes, trikes and wagons. The rearguard was brought up by the Alderwood Volunteer Fire Brigade truck the blast of its horn scaring the smaller kids who were lagging behind.

There were prizes for the best decorated bike - guaranteed if you used Union Jacks, a picture of the King or Queen or red, white and blue streamers you'd win some sort of prize. There was a prayer from the local Anglican minister asking a blessing on the Monarch and their loyal Dominion of Canada, speechs from our MPP and Alderman and God Save the Queen shrilly led by the public school choir and rousingly sung by one and all. Later that night was the "big" fireworks display - 15 or 20 rockets donated by the Hands Fireworks Co., some Catherine Wheels and more sparklers for all the kids.

Like the Empire we celebrated back then most of the May 24th traditions have faded away. It's now just the first long weekend of the summer. This past few days people opened their cottages and there were BBQs and picnics, but there were no parades and I haven't heard a single firework all evening. Sure there's fireworks on Canada Day, July 1st but I always thought how lucky I was back then: I had two chances to burn that old schoolhouse.

I think the picture at the top of the page dates from 1949 and that fine looking pair of gentlemen at the left are my father Ab (Albert) and me (notice that damned tuft of hair again.) The lady behind us is my beloved Aunt Lil. Until the day she died she kept her Belfast accent and she was the only one who could get away with calling me Billy when I became an adult. The way she said it was musical.