We’re here. When you arrive at Palermo airport they immediately put a black bag over your head, stick a gun in your back and march you to passport control, in a derelict garage out the back. There you meet a man with ‘connections’, who, for a small but significant sum, will ‘protect’ you for the duration of your stay. Protect us from whom? Or what?? You naively ask. Oh, he says, from me. And my… family!!!!! Because over here, that word, ‘family’ means something completely different from normal. Families elsewhere are things of love, warmth, joined history, blood ties and togetherness. Over here, ‘family’ means your kneecaps could be drilled at any moment. It means machine guns, drug money, whores, gambling, protection, Joe Pesci and Marlon Brando.

Yet what you see is… quite a lot of very fat people. And I just can’t understand that. Just because a meal anywhere else in the world has 3 courses, Italians have four. And the one they so neatly, seamlessly, ‘insert’ is a bowl of pasta. What elsewhere would be called ‘a meal’ in itself. Yet here, it just what you do when you’ve had your soup and you’re waiting for your fish to be grilled.

But yesterday, whilst strolling along the beautiful promenade in beautiful downtown Cefalu (north coast, mountains, sea, old town, gorgeous) we stopped for an ice cream. Gelati. Because we’re in Italy and that’s where it was invented. According to the Italians. And trust me, you don’t argue round here. And we witnessed the local… delicacy? Addiction? Habit?? A brioche bun, slit in half (very good at ‘slitting’, these Sicilians) and filled with ice cream. Add a wafer, a plate and loads of tissues and there’s your path to waddle along. It looked fantastic. Going to get one today.

The other thing famous in Sicily is lemons. Here they call them ‘lemons’, in M&S they call them Sicilian lemons, but trust me, it’s the same thing. Massive. Lemon flavoured. Yellow. Can’t wait to eat one.

We’re here mainly because next weekend we are attending a wedding, in Syracuse, on the other side of the Island. So thought we’d put in a week of ‘hard graft’ beforehand (see pic). I rented a car because I thought it would be a bit unfair if there was a car-chase and I wasn’t involved. And we’re going on in a few days to Taormina and then down to Syracuse for the wedding weekend.

Where the Goldsteins from Hampstead Garden Suburb have strong connections. Historical connections. In that the bride came here for a holiday once and really liked it. But if it’s connection enough for them, it’s more than enough for me and Mel. Who never need asking twice to go and spend a week somewhere sunny. And the flights (you’re gonna hate me for this), so many air miles (who knows, who cares) and 2 quid. Honest to God (and he lives here, I saw him in the cathedral this morning), 2 quid. How could we NOT come?? It ticks such a lot of boxes.

Happy… whatever, they all blend together here.

A xxxx