The beginning of our next little adventure. I’ve been several times before, the first time 60 years ago when I was almost twelve. 
My father had taken me very unwillingly (I was unwilling – I’m not sure about my dad) on holiday to Lido Di Jesolo, a popular holiday resort near Venice, with the regulation sandy beaches, lots of hotels and cafes, music blaring, people smoking etc etc   A nightmare at the best of times. If it was sunny I burnt as I got bored. If it was rainy I was bored as there was nothing to do or see. Excruciating 
We were staying in a nice enough hotel, Albergho Corall,  just by the beach. 
My father was in seventh heaven. Two weeks holiday away from the rigours of his city accountancy office – Arthur Young at the time  – and here he was going to relive some of the pleasure of his days in post war Italy. To help him do this there  were several of his friends staying in the same hotel. They were all anticipating swimming, sunbathing, shopping, drinking wine and playing bridge. 
I can’t swim. I burn in the sun (have I said?) I had no money.I didn’t drink wine and I didn’t know how to play bridge.   (Nowadays of course I enjoy shopping and drinking wine but the rest of those activities still leave me cold. ) 
Anyway. Here we are in Albergho Corallo in the middle of August

and the rain it raineth every day. I didn’t have enough books with me. No iPads or iPods then. So I spent most of the time sulking or crying and missing my mum. I couldn’t even ring her. 
The adults, my father’s friends, I have to say,  were all very nice to me. But I was painfully shy and I think they all found me very difficult. They kept on comparing me to my dad who was the life and soul of the party, wherever he went. 
Until one day he developed a raging toothache. You can imagine the sort of mood he was in. 

Now I had noticed a couple of days earlier that my dentist was in the same hotel. My father didn’t know him, but he was also Polish and there, playing bridge everyday and night with his own friends. 
I finally told my dad of his existence and proximity and we began to make his acquaintance. Dear Doctor Taylor. Such a charming man. Such a good dentist. ( His charm and good dentistry got him into a lot of trouble in the end, but that’s a story for another time. Remind me.) 

In no time at all he had sorted my father out, the pain was gone and my father began to realise that I needed to be entertained. 
He took me shopping and bought me a very pretty handbag. Very embarrassingly he haggled over the price. I was mortified. But I don’t think, looking back, that anyone else was. 
He bought me a coral and silver ring which I still have. 
We went to shop where they sold dried seahorses. I’ll never forget that, though we didn’t buy one. 
And then we went to Venice for the day. 
That was the best though you wouldn’t think it from the photo. We fed the pigeons in St Marks Square. We had a pizza ( our first ever) just under the Rialto Bridge by the Grand Cansl. We didn’t like it. It had anchovies on it. We didn’t do fish at the time. My father discreetly threw it into the canal. Oh the shame of it. 
Luckily the ice creams were delicious. 
We had a gondola ride and we took vaporettos  here and there. Altogether a memorable day. 
Back in Jesolo the sun finally came out and I was persuaded to wear the bikini my aunt had lent me. My father’s friends- Wanda and Kazik Draczyński- did their absolute best with me;  I realise that now. Mrs D’s mother was there too. She was large and imposing with a deep throaty laugh. I was of course absolute terrified of her at first but

she took an interest in me and I found I could talk to her. We remained friends until she died many years later. Pani Heinsowa, as I called her. 

So what brought about these reminisces? I’m in Venice again!