Win a week in Tuscany!
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O Where Art Though Tuscan Lover..
I am writing this as quickly as I can.
I don't have a computer so have been hiding under a table at an internet cafe until, just now, a large, flatulent woman went to the toilet, leaving her screen unattended and I have seized my chance to tell you my story in the modest hope that I may be reunited with my dear Pier Paolo once again.
3 years ago, following the death of my only real friend, Rover, I decided that I'd had enough of this pestilent land and stowed away aboard a ship. I had never left England before because mam said Tenerife was all we was good for and we couldn't afford that since dad went back on the crack.
On the boat to Pisa I was seasick and scared, but I thought of trusty Rover and how brave he had been at the last, and I held my nerve and did not venture out for air or give myself up. When finally the vessel came to a halt, I knew we had reached a place that was unlike anything I had ever known. I could feel the heat of a fiercer sun and the smells that did reach my nozzer were heady and fuller than anything I'd ever smelt in Hull.
Exhausted and starving, I wobbled out of my hidey hole into the light of a Tuscan morning. There on the quayside, was a litter of kittens fighting over a fish, which after some effort, I managed to wrest from the little critters and, feeling stronger for having eaten something, I limped towards a nearby cafe, hoping to find a leftover glass of water perhaps.
It was then that I clocked him – the most spellbinding figure of a man I had ever seen, with a smile plastered across his face, from ear to eyebrow, the strongest, brownest, sweatiest neck I had ever clapped eyes on and just a hint of playful belly peeking out from under his shirt as he swayed. There, yay, indeed, there he was – my Pier Paolo, frothing at the eyes and tooth with excitement as he played on a pipe, performing for the crowds. He was clearly not the most able of men – one leg was a good few inches shorter than the other – but still he managed to execute very confident roleypolies - three in a row, and to right himself and extend his cap as he landed in front of the tables.
I was entranced and could not help myself. Breathless I stared, and presently he did notice me and, coming over all shy, looked away and reddened. I cursed myself, but after a moment, he looked back at me, rubbing the back of his head and slowly his frown morphed into a grin. I was shocked and suddenly rather weak at the knees, but managed to smile myself. Oh! How my heart raced when he smiled back again wider still! Oh me! Oh me! Oh my!
Though I did not speak his language and he did not speak mine, we understood each other perfectly. He shared his capful of coins with me and we ate olives and drank wine and watched the light playing on the water as the day stretched out before us and then faded into a still, jasmine-scented night, full of promise.
I'd eaten olives before, but these weren't rubbery at all like the little slices you get on a dominoes pizza, they were almost like fruit or something, and the wine was so good I had to hold it in my mouth for ages before I swallowed it, which was a mistake because Pier Paolo is very funny and when he asked if I wanted to see his leaning tower, I exploded wine all over my face and all over his face and all over the table.
The women on the table next to us were talking about how naughty they felt drinking in the morning, which was dumb because we were shatfaced and it felt great. As they got louder and more giggly it somehow became really annoying and even though they were giggling in English, Pier Paolo seemed to instinctively understand how irksome they were – he's just so wonderfully sensitive like that.
He mocked them and mimicked them with his big funny face, until one of them, noting his derision, took umbridge at our fun and squealed on us to the owner, who took great delight in hoisting Pier Paolo up from his chair by the ear! He whimpered and begged, I know not what he said, but I could see that he was pleading, but the man was bigger and angrier and had sobriety on his side.
Oh no! She's coming back from the toilet! Please vote and help me go back to Tuscany to find my love. I haven't seen him since that day and we may never s
