One Hundred Summers by Vanessa Branson

Author:Vanessa Branson
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Mensch Publishing

8

FINDING BEAUTY

It was one of those spontaneous ideas you have while sitting in a pub on a freezing cold Friday night in the middle of winter. Hamish and I arranged to meet up in Florence, halfway into his month-long Italian ‘grand tour’, at midday on 1 April 1976, by the Fountain of Neptune in the Piazza della Signoria. A few weeks later, I’d saved enough money deep-frying chips and burgers at a tenpin-bowling alley for the airfare and booked myself an Alitalia flight to Pisa.

It took less than a minute to clear customs; my holdall contained nothing but a change of underwear, a toothbrush and a book – shamefully, given that I was about to discover the glories of the Italian Renaissance, The Pirate by Harold Robbins. I was wearing an ankle-length Indian cotton dress I’d bought from Kensington Market, black and red with an elaborately embroidered top panel inlaid with a twinkling mass of tiny mirrors, and a pair of vintage cowboy boots.

Once I’d left the airport, I flagged down a cheerful baker who was sputtering along in a three-wheeler van. On the way to Florence he offered me mounds of warm pastries and fired questions at me in rapid Italian. He dropped me off in the city centre, laughing and wishing me luck with my liaison. As I approached the magnificent stone fountain, I began to lose the confidence I’d possessed earlier in the day. After all, Hamish and I hadn’t confirmed our meeting – I’d simply taken him at his word. Had he been sober enough to remember? And if he had, would he have thought I was serious about joining him? And would his travel plans have worked out so that he was even in Florence at this time? Of course he wouldn’t be there – what an April fool I’d been! I sat for a while by the fountain, fantasising about picking up a dashing Italian one minute or of walking destitute around the city streets as if I was starring in a Fellini film.

Then I spotted my beautiful blond friend, tanned and leaner after a fortnight of lugging his art-book-filled backpack halfway around Italy. He stood smiling while brushing his unkempt fringe from his eyes. Of course he was going to turn up. After a minute of hellos he pulled out a map, laid it on the edge of the fountain and we planned our trip: five towns, including Perugia and Assisi, each with a multitude of churches and galleries housing the masterpieces on Hamish’s ‘must-see list’.

Hamish was studying fourteenth-century Italian Art and, unlike most of his peer group, he knew what he was going to do once he’d finished: he’d agreed to be apprenticed to a painting restorer called Dick Maelzer, who worked for the respected Old Master dealer, Edward Speelman. An in-depth knowledge of the history of art is essential for any restorer, and Hamish was focused on becoming the best in his field.

Once again, love was my great educator: Hamish’s passion for both the history and the magic of creativity was contagious.

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