Shared Treasure

Florence was so lavish in all she gave me that I wanted to share her goodness with you.  So I sought out Giannini e Figlio.

Housed in a small shop in the Piazza Pitti, this venerable family firm of bookbinders provides a treasure trove for stationery addicts.  In their upstairs workshop, the artisans create gorgeous marbled papers which they then use to decorate all manner of lovely things, selling them in the old shop below.

I went wild. And put together not just one, but two bumper packs of marvellous marbled magic! My gift sets each contain a hand-made notebook, bound with a leather tie; five marbled paper hearts; a tasselled bookmark; a satisfyingly chunky pencil (that makes you feel like a proper scribe); and a postcard showing the shop as it looked in 1904 (though the company was founded in 1856). I’m also including a small Tuscan jigsaw, found elsewhere in the city. And, to top it all, as I passed through Zurich airport on the way home, there was a celebratory chocolate-tasting weekend in full swing; so I purchased two exquisite little boxes of very upmarket Swiss pralines, one for each goodie bag.

So there you have it! My magnificent Florentine give-away! All you have to do to be in with a chance of having these delights drop through your letterbox (or into your mailbox) is to leave a comment telling me which is your favourite city. Nothing fancy required - a one-word answer will do!



If you’re unsure how to post a comment, there are instructions below. This fun is open to everyone, so don’t be shy. I’ll draw two winners at random on my birthday next Friday (16^th). 

To post a comment:

1) Click on the word Comments in the bar below

2) Fill in Your Name (first name will do)

3) If you have a website of your own you want to link to, then enter that

4) Type the letters and numbers in the blue box into the space that says Security Code

5) Tell me which is your favourite city in the Your Comments box

6) Click Submit

Lo Scoppio del Carro

The origins of the Scoppio del Carro (explosion of the cart) date back to 1102. Every Easter Sunday six huge white oxen, decorated with the first flowers of spring, haul a towering cart of fireworks into the Piazza San Giovanni in Florence and stop in front of the Duomo. During the Gloria of the Easter mass going on inside, the cardinal sends a mechanical ‘dove’ whizzing down a wire stretched from the altar to the cart outside. And the dove ignites the fireworks. Boom!

The noise is terrific. While the bells of Giotto’s campanile ring out, dozens of firecrackers explode in quick succession, sounding like gunfire. I was terrified someone in the crowd would get injured at the very least. But then I figured that, since this has been happening for almost a thousand years, they probably know what they’re doing by now.

It was difficult to see what was going on. Thousands of people jostle for a glimpse of the proceedings. Stuck behind a very tall man and a child on someone’s shoulders, the best I could do was to hold my camera in the air, point it vaguely in the right direction and click the shutter.

But it caught snapshots. Of the smoke and the fireworks; of the oxen and some of the 150 or so musicians and soldiers dressed in 15^th century costume; of the cart - in use for over 500 years - and of the crowds themselves.

The dove’s success in reaching and setting alight the fireworks is supposed to be a reflection of the harvest to come. So I can tell you with authority and conviction: it will be a great harvest this year.

The Frescoed Palace

I’ve been staying in a Florentine Renaissance palace. In a bedroom whose walls and domed ceiling are entirely covered by 17^th century frescoes. Each time I spoke, my voice echoed among the birds and angels and gods. They looked down on me as I slept and greeted me when I woke.

In my mind, I began to name them; and, given time, would have named them all. I started to weave stories around my new companions. And wondered about the tales they could tell; of all they’ve seen happen below and before them in the hundreds of years they’ve existed there.

The frescoes disguise a secret door which gives onto a hidden cupboard. And they create trompe l’oeil mouldings around the doors that lead into a tiny courtyard garden. Every time I looked at them, I discovered new characters, new details. I could have gone on looking forever.

Who painted them? No-one knows. But, for a brief time, I’ve lived inside the painting of an artist who breathed and worked four centuries ago. Stirred and slept inside the world of his imagination. His brush has touched my life with an immediacy and intimacy that is extraordinary to experience. And the memories of his art will last me a lifetime.



P.S. Today I'm taking part in Mosaic Monday, hosted by Mary at Little Red House.

Why not pop on over and take a look at some of the other lovely mosaics you'll find links to there?

Firenze

I’m in love. With a city.

Those are words I never thought to hear myself say. But this avowed country girl has just spent Easter weekend in Italy. And has been wooed and seduced. And is smitten.

Florence, I love you!

I’ll be sharing tales and pictures from my magical adventure here in the days to come. But, for now, my new love and I bid you a very happy Easter.

Easter at Betty's

Betty’s tea rooms are a Yorkshire institution. Actually, they’re a British institution. They’re some of the few places you can still ‘take tea’ in genteel fashion.

Your dainty fare is served by waitresses in frilly white aprons and, if you’re very lucky, you’ll be serenaded by live music (though, sadly, that seldom happens these days).

But every bit as appealing as the refined elegance of the cafes are the shops that front them. Betty’s cakes and patisserie are the best. And Easter is one of those times when it’s worth making a detour just to peer through the windows and see what the bakers and confectioners have come up with.

When I called this weekend, the window display was all charming, hand-decorated Easter eggs (including a huge one sized for a giant); while inside the store was the display of Simnel cakes pictured above.

For the record, I did buy an Easter egg which I planned to share with you…..but someone ate it before I could photograph it (and it wasn’t me!).