I'm not missing you yet

Well. Another day, another train, this time the high-speed Frecciarossa (Le Duc would have been beside himself) down to Rome for my last weekend of this little Italian winter sojourn.

Feeling slightly weepy at the thought of it coming to an end. But there it is. There is the reproduction of the species to get on with. Plus transformation from scruffy and slightly alcoholic pit pony into immaculately groomed world famous novelist.

I sit in my window seat, clutching my gin and tonic (craftily mixed at home and disguised in a San Benedetto water bottle) and think about the things I’m going to miss. They are many:

- Peaceful afternoons in the Design Library, myself the only person at the stainless steel table

- The piped music that plays in the library on a loop

- Early evening prosecco whilst waiting for A. to finish being Busy and Important

- Aperitivi

- The twinkle in A.’s eyes after the second Negroni

- The hospitality of Elena, who never minded coming home to find that we’d taken over her flat

- Camping in our flat, with only three plastic mugs and a couple of forks

- Remembering to weigh my fruit and veg at the supermarket

- The sneaking pleasure of being mistaken for a local and asked questions in the street

- Looking out of my window at night and tasting the Italian air

- Stumbling through the streets at night, seeking cigarette machines that didn’t ask for identity cards

- The packing and unpacking of suitcases

- Recognising metro stops

- Friday nights on the Autostrade

- Searching for Lifegate Radio

- Being stuck with Radio Maria

- A.’s disgust at the weakness of my bladder

- Terrible Autogrill sandwiches

- The smell of turdette sausages en route

- Roman Pines

- Weekends in Maremma with a cast of thousands

- The shock of my reflection in Grosseto station toilets after said weekends

- Lombard fog rising up from the plains

- My satisfaction when I had said 10 things in Italian in a day

- Mastering the trapassato prossimo

- The gym where the receptionists call me darling

- The fact that the gym had a bar

- Meeting so many lovely new people

- Pretty people in the streets

- Glimpses of Milanese courtyards

- The glow from computers reflecting on our faces at night

- Composing a Life in the Day of...

- Laughing at our own cleverness

- Squinting at ourselves in the lift mirror

- Ranting with Guido about his lovelife

- Ranting with Enrico about poetry

- Ranting with A. about everything

- Knowing that F is in the same country

But most of all, I will miss A. - my Tot, El Presidente, Man of the House, olive picker extraordinaire, live-in muse, scrupulous editor, gin and tonic mixer, prosciutto-muncher, self-appointed manager of women, faithful travel companion and partner-in-crime.

Thank you for always knowing when to leave the country. And for taking me with you. Make sure you get back to London as soon as you can.