Everything begins and ends at exactly the right time and place

Thursday

9.00 pm: Lady V arrives at Testaccio High, laden with baggage and sweating lightly, to rapturous greeting from Swigga Jackson and The Horrid Hound.

9.03 pm: Decide to pop to local dive bar for quick one before gala screening of new season of L Word on Big O projector.

9.07 pm: Install ourselves on vertiginous bar stools and order round of vod poms.

9.15 pm: Order another.

Proceed to spent the next 3 hours DOWNING vod poms, RANTING furiously on vital topics of life and love, GUFFAWING at our own cleverness and SLAPPING thighs. SCOFF at bemused barman’s excuse that we have drunk bar dry of grapefruit and move on to lemon as mixer.

12.30 am: Return home. Pork down pizza standing by breakfast bar. Change into comfy jim-jams and snuggle into bed, vastly excited at prospect of lezzer film fest.

12.35 am: Big O begins to emit noxious smells. Film refuses to load. We refuse to believe it but efforts to resuscitate prove useless.

12.55 am: Pass out, muttering crossly

Friday

7.30 am: Wake up and congratulate each other on feeling GREAT! Swigga J INCANDESCENT with rage at double whammy on broken projector front and says sternly that we shall not leave Rome without one. Lady V mildly suggests it could be sparking socket, not projector, at root of problem.

7.45 am: Swigga plugs in projector in sitting room. Seems to work. Projects classic B&W film onto wall and instructs Lady V to watch and test all the way through

8.00 am: Jax goes to work. Lady V turns off film and crawls back into bed.

8.15 am: Vile hound leaps on Lady V’s face, forcing her to face the day.

The next few hours are spent with anxious questioning from Swigga, reassurance from V, searching for Mitsubishi dealers and Smeg engineers. V knocks off batch of Mondadori editing in record time whilst Swigga strides off to Vatican for press conf.

2.00 pm: Agree on gmail chat that this hangover is a CREEPER and that we both feel EXECRABLE.

In an attempt to recover, Lady V takes Maude on epic walk around Rome, revisiting morning-after Trastevere bar and reliving fond memories of Oddone High naughtiness.

5.00 pm: Jax texts to say we shall NOT be leaving Rome tonight but instead going to look at potential flats and then have QUIET NIGHT IN with movies and broth. The next morning to be spent buying FRESH PRODUCE from market and running errands. Lady V gulps down disappointment and agrees. Pours a glass of red.

6.00 pm: Arrive at condominium in San Lorenzo. Both fall deeply and devastatingly in love with beautiful flat with terrace and pizza oven and room for V to stay. However, is vastly over budget so see two more, smaller and less luxe. Pout at cruel pricing.

6.45 pm: Call Little J to report back. Jax incoherently mumbles about pizza ovens. Lady V put on phone to be grilled about size/light/aspect. Both confess to not knowing which direction terrace faces.

6.30 pm: Decide to check out local hood. Enter nearest bar and order prosec. Gush about housing.

7.00 pm: Decide food is essential to early night. Prowl streets in search of pizza. Pizzeria says no bookings until 8. Retire to another bar for more prosec. Rant about soft furnishings and Georgia O’Keefe.

8.00 pm (on the dot): Rock up to pizzeria and order 1 large steak, 1 large pizza, ½ litre red and ½ litre white. Pork down the lot. REFUSE to acknowledge hints to leave as restaurant gets busy and INSIST on finishing wine before moving a muscle.

9.30 pm: Unable to find a taxi, cross Rome on foot in pouring rain. Eschew gay street but on arrival in Testaccio, decide to pop into traditional wine bar for quick one. Stand outside congratulating ourselves on non-smoking. Have 3 for the road whilst discussing potential celebs for impending book launch. Agree on Miranda Richardson, Annie Lennox, Jeanette Winterson and Andrew Lloyd Webber.

12.30: Pass out.

Saturday

7.30 am: Lady V woken from slumber by insistent and irritating alarm. Puts in earplugs. Noise continues at 15 min intervals for next hour. Puts pillow on head.

8.30 am: Swigga Jax opens beady eye. Throws dog across room and stalks off, clad only in strange cricket shorts to turn off alarm in other room.

Peace reigns.

Check blogs. Agree that we feel GREAT. Internet breaks. Curse loudly and stumble into bathroom to cleanse for 10 am meeting with landlord.

10.20 am: Landlord has still not arrived. Ravenous, decide to go down to bar for coffee and cornetti. Meet landlord in hall and take him with us. Discuss feminism, New York and dogs. Swigga spirits him off for negotiations whilst V takes Maude for pee.

11.00 am: Get cab to Little J’s neighbourhood to find car. Driving rain. Roads closed. Driver lost. Eventually manage to locate Mina and CROW with triumph. Dive from cab to car. RECOIL at vile stench emanating from within. Swigga reaches into enfer, pulls out bloodied bone and chucks onto street. Lady V retches. Drive off quickly with widows open.

One hour later, lost in streets of Rome. End up outside Swiggs’ flat. Leap into bar for sustenance. Drive off, porking down pizza. Swiggs spill tomato on trousers. V dabs ineffectually with scented tissue. Decide to draw onto hard shoulder and eat our deep fried balls of rice with dignity and pose. Agree we may have another creeper on our hands.

12.30 pm: Eventually leave Rome. Lady V takes the wheel, expertly navigating the Aurelia.

3.30 pm: Turn off the crossroads of death, heading for the hills, trying to ignore ominous darkening of skies.

3.45 pm: Arrive at Marcella’s to greet and deliver cheque. Maude deposits turd just outside front door. Mommy congratulates her.

Arrive at house to discover stabbed freezer full of decomposing fodder. Lady V retches again. Swigga takes the helm, mopping furiously. Put on kettle for tea.

4.30 pm: Lady V constructs fire. Jax sorts out projector. Realises vital plug has been left in Rome. V backs off in terror. Luckily we realise we can make do and mend. Congratulate ourselves on Best of British Wartime Spirit.

4.35 pm: Decide we need a proper drink, not poxy tea. Open a bottle each. Remember we forgot to buy fresh produce but discover jar of porcini risotto. Lady V knocks it together, Milanese fashion, nodding smugly as she expertly stirs.

4.45 pm: Light candles in honour of missing Tot. Settle down in front of ROARING fire to film about Canadian lesbians, porking down 5 portions of risotto each. Both admit to feeling a bit hot under the collar. Decide Lady V must find girlfriend IMMEDIATELY.

Perch in fireplace nodding sagely. Decide we should have done this years ago (Marjorie).

Pop on Picnic at Hanging Rock and tremble at schoolgirl eroticism. Giggle at blatent line-stealing from Swigga in everyday life.

Lady V decides to bake potatoes in fire.

8.00 pm: Swigga unearths potatoes, charred and somewhat reduced. Tosses on table. Undeterred, V opens tin of tuna and mixes with shards of potato. Swigga declines and opens another bottle.

Short musical interlude whilst we dance wildly to Abba classics, featuring impromptu karaoke renderings followed by serious discussion of Belle and Sebastian lyrics slash nostalgia over geekish schooldays.

10:00 pm: Decide to watch Clueless. Halfway through, Jax passes out. V decides Alicia Silverstone is future wife. Blows out candles assiduously, remembering past admonishments and rouses Jax. Stumble downstairs. Quick rant for the road, then retire to our rooms. Pass out for 12 hours.

Sunday

Midday: Civilised coffee in Tot A’s old bed, rhapsodising about density of mattress. Plan lavish lunch of roast chicken and salad. Realise shops will close in half an hour. Throw on clothes, jump into Mina and race to Roccalbegna, Swiggs congratulating V on Alain Prost-esque rallying skills.

12.55 pm: Arrive in Roc. Congratulate ourselves on timely arrival, drooling lightly at thought of lunch. Find that all shops are closed. Remember that it’s Sunday. Curse foully.

1.30 pm: Brighten at thought of making soup with scavenged items and decide to KRAUSE the kitchen. Ruthlessly tidy, banishing items to cupboards and rearranging shelves. Swiggs declares slash and burn policy re laundry. Hours spent folding and sorting. Declare ourselves Unsung Heroes and Domestic Goddesses.

3.30 pm: Pop on depressing but marvellous documentary about children of prostitutes in Calcutta’s red light district, home to Lady V’s RAJ experience in late nineties. Weep uncontrollably at plight. Pledge to adopt Indian babies. Decide that filmmaker is Lady V’s future wife.

5.30 pm: Have a little grappa.

6.00 pm: Pop on Kristin Scott Thomas’s latest masterpiece, in the ORIGINAL, about a woman who has killed her child. Take deep breaths and weep silently at French tragedy. Congratulate ourselves at French language skills. Marvel at KRS’s ability to smoke with elegance and poise. Decide she could be Lady V’s future wife but not sure if she’s still married to fat French doctor. Decide to adopt French babies.

8.00 pm: Hit the road. Drive furiously, stopping only to pee and have another quick grappa for the road (Lady V congratulating herself at knowing every toilet in every bar between Maremma and Rome).

11.00 pm: Arrive in Rome, traumatised by sudden and noxious chemical fog forcing us to crawl along hard shoulder in terror. Decide to watch quick episode of Gray’s Anatomy. Marvel at scene in which someone breaks a penis doing a Twist and Shout. File in Bad Lesbian memory bank.

12.20 pm: Pass out, congratulating ourselves on a weekend well spent.