No, as I clamped my jaws around my second bruschetta, I was already planning the sale of our London house and moving to Lake Como. After lunch, I made Mr M show me by boat all the possible properties on the lake. ‘But I don’t want anything grand,’ I said unnecessarily, as if I could afford even a lock-up garage on the lake. I’d sell London to buy a fixer-upper on Lake Como… I’d be broke… I wouldn’t make friends as I couldn’t speak Italian. I know Rod was 66 but, as Rimbaud said, those whom the gods love die young.