I am famous for my attachment to cardigans so I pressed her to elaborate.
“It’s pretty and understated” she replied “not your kind of thing at all.”
That’s the joy of having a sister.
Knits, ugly or otherwise, were welcome on our second chilly morning by the Bay of Naples. So far, the sun has failed to shine on our Italian holiday . We take the rain as a sign from God that we should stop for coffee or have another drink. It is easier to face a downpour when exhilarated by a mid-morning glass of Prosecco.
By lunchtime we had survived the dark clouds and the howling wind and had made it to the Marina Grande for a seafood lunch. The restaurant was called the Five Sisters. My heart sank. Could I and my outfit survive multi-sibling scrutiny?
There was no need to worry. It turns out that other people’s sisters are sweetness and light. The grilled fish was delicious as was the bread and tomato salad . It continued to rain. The afternoon called for a pitcher of red wine.
The bus on the way back to the hotel hit a wall when it turned an especially tight corner. The driver got out not to inspect the damage but to right his wing mirror. He would need it to help him complete his twenty three point turn. I felt for him. I have been doing some pretty fancy manoeuvring myself on Sorrento’s streets. I have a gammy knee and Italy doesn’t seem to have received the EU memos on handrails. The streets are hilly, the steps are steep and the pavements are uneven. Luckily my sister is on hand. It’s good to have someone to lean on.