I almost didn’t want to go out last night, it was horribly hot and sticky, but at 10 o clock I finally left the house to meet some friends for drinks. About six steps down from the front door I stopped and slipped my high heels off, forsaking glamour for comfort and padded barefoot up the road to the cocktail bar.
We sat out in the courtyard of the bar, sipping our cocktails, hardly aware of the soft jazz band playing in a corner. Eventually I realised it was half past midnight and reluctantly decided it was time for bed so I slipped off my shoes again and padded back home.
I walked up most of the 160 steps to my front door far too quickly so when I found my cat waiting for me on the floor below I stopped for a breather on the floor below.
“Hello!” said a voice from the dark. “Where are you going?”
It was a young man on the terrace of the house below mine. I told him I was going to bed, it was late, but he seemed very upset and persuaded me to come into their house.
“ Are you having a party then?” I asked.
“ Sort of, you’ll see,” he replied as we walked into the house.
There were about twelve people sitting around the living room and wandering in and out of the kitchen and I realised that they all worked in the kitchens of a big hotel. A glass of sparkly wine appeared in my hand and a place was found for me to sit. I glanced at my watch, it was 1am, I really had to get to bed!
“ Listen, I’d love to stay, but I’ve got to be at work at 8, so I must go home,” I stood up to go but was stopped in my tracks by the reply I got.
“ You can’t go! The sushi is nearly ready!”
Sushi? Did he say sushi? I love sushi...but we’re here, in small town south Italy..you can’t get sushi here...or so I thought. I must have looked doubtful, for I was led into the kitchen where I found trays and trays of sushi and a very happy Japanese sushi chef. Everything was brought out into the living room, soy sauce was poured into espresso cups and chopsticks were handed round. Everybody squished up together on the two sofas around the table and the feast began.
The sushi was superb, obviously, I thought, mentally slapping my forehead. These guys all work in a Michelin starred restaurant, of course they can make sushi, they’re the best of the best. As I chomped away, there were tears of pleasure and gratitude in my eyes. At 2am I called it a night and thanked them for their hospitality.
“ It’s always been difficult to find sushi in Positano, but to find freshly made sushi unexpectedly at midnight in the house next door has been a real pleasure for me.”