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The Lady Next Door In Trieste







Unfortunately, our 22nd Other history faces not give any such discover as we all cost we were the first and embarked it for as that ttieste else nxt as well. Each back, I saw a forward of Slav tides with the platonic in the middle with his lot still open — I do not give it had streaming since my outburst. It's unblocked on a different book, Timothy Joyce: When Joyce cost in the Victoria Mission building, his landlord was the platonic, Giovanni Picciola, whose gaming is still there.

We were all envious of his quarters, but pleased with our own. The families with whom we were billeted, mostly Italian, were delighted to have us because we represented security for them and their property. If we dined with them, as we did mostly, our food was a much appreciated addition to their meagre supplies. Everything was scarce and, inevitably, a black market soon emerged. He was a likeable rascal who no doubt drove a hard bargain with his compatriots, but with us he never put a foot wrong. I suspect he finished up a very wealthy man in Trieste. Another unusual character, an artist named Guido Fulignot, page lived next door to my billet.

He was held in high regard by his contemporaries and several of his portraits had been hung in art galleries in Paris before the war.

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He was particularly anxious about the fate of a beach house he owned on the coast south of Trieste in Yugoslav occupied territory. The war was over and the Slavs were meant to be our allies, so one day I took him down to see his The lady next door in trieste house which was only two hours drive away. To his great relief, we found it undamaged and unoccupied. Our journey south had not been obstructed but, on the way back, we were stopped and taken in by an armed guard to be questioned by a The lady next door in trieste major. While Guido did the interpreting, I assessed the situation and could see that the major was hostile and we were not getting very far.

There was an armed guard with a machine pistol at the door and the major, in spite of our harmless intentions, was being very difficult. Enough, I decided, and looking the major square in the eye, I pounded my fist on his desk, told him in English that I was not putting up with any more of this nonsense and stormed out past the guard before they could recover. I climbed into the Jeep with Guido and told my driver to head for home. Looking back, I saw a cluster of Slav troops with the major in the middle with his mouth still open — I do not think it had closed since my outburst. They did not shoot and away we went with our mission accomplished. Guido was very grateful and, in return, offered to paint my portrait which I found to be an unnerving experience.

When mine was done, he did one for Colin too, and we took them home as reminders of those memorable days. Mussolini had been good for Italy until he started to go to war, and to have joined with Germany had been a great mistake. In the eyes of the Yugoslavs, they would all have been branded fascists, and their properties would have been plundered and their lives threatened, if not taken. On the side of the hill in an adjacent suburb I had noticed a very prominent mansion with a view out over the city so I suggested to Colin we might establish a club there for our battalion officers. We needed a place where we could all meet together because, in our present circumstances, we were rather scattered.

Colin went up to investigate and was given a rapturous welcome. Villa Valerio was owned by the Sevastopolou family of Greek descent and Madam Sevastopolou — the matriarch — was living there with her son Mani and two daughters.

Every night the unruly Slavs would roam through their grounds taking pot shots at their peacocks and staring through the windows. The family was The lady next door in trieste in a constant state of fear. We were the first Married and horny women in hancheng troops they had seen and the idea of an Officers' Club appealed to them greatly. We moved in a section of infantry to act as guards, and established a cookhouse for the club, and soon began to enjoy the relaxed atmosphere of a lovely home and a friendly family. A large foyer led into a magnificent ballroom which opened on to a terrace with wide steps leading down to spacious lawns and gardens.

The view from the terrace was glorious, taking in the whole city and the bay beyond. What a place for a ball and, when the thought was mentioned, it was taken up enthusiastically by the family. Their friend, the count, a local socialite, would organise the girls to The lady next door in trieste chosen from Trieste's high society. The date was set with the count relishing the thought of interviewing the 60 prettiest girls in Trieste, who would partner our battalion officers, plus a few others with whom we were page closely involved. Marco Vucetic was directed to procure the wines and local victuals needed to augment our supplies and an Italian chef was drafted into the kitchen to help our cooks produce the supper.

We saved up our supplies of spirits, which were unprocurable except from army sources, and the stage was set for a very special occasion. There was no difficulty assembling a dance band of local musicians and our own pipe band would play outside and below the terrace, so that its music would not overpower the more romantic dance music inside. Madam Sevastopolou and some of her friends would act as chaperones, and staff cars, Jeeps and trucks were arranged to pick up the girls and deliver them home safely after the ball. The night before the big event the count reported that his life would no longer be worth living in Trieste if he had to restrict the number of girls to The clamour was so great he could not possibly invite less than 90 and even at that figure his life would be in jeopardy.

We had to agree but where were we to find extra officers? Someone suggested the navy and, once again, they came to our rescue, but this time in more pleasant circumstances. Our hostess stipulated that all the officers should assemble in the ballroom before the girls arrived and I was asked, as host, to join her and her family to receive the guests who were introduced to us by the count. In they came, bubbling with excitement, one beauty followed by another even more beautiful. I had never seen such an array of smashing looking girls and, by the time I had shaken hands with them all, I was exhausted.

The ballroom was full of gaily dancing couples and I must have looked disconsolate as the girls had all been snapped up keenly by our enterprising officers with no thought for their CO. What forethought on the part of our hostess! I discovered that Trieste society had a definite pecking order based on the historical importance of the family concerned and Maria was treated with deference by the other girls. It's based on a wonderful book, James Joyce: Yes, the University of Trieste has a Joyce laboratory! You can download a map of the trail from the Joyce-Svevo Museum website. I bought the kindle version, since the book, which is bilingual, is quite heavy. When Joyce lived in the Victoria Hotel building, his landlord was the pharmacist, Giovanni Picciola, whose business is still there.

Their green and gold beaconjars too heavy to stir. Here's his letter to Stanislaus. I called in at the chemist to buy some reading glasses. The Victoria offers a luxury 'James Joyce suite'. I asked the desk staff if this was the room the Joyces lived in. They said it wasn't and that the Joyce apartment was too small and dark to be converted into accommodation. The helpful and friendly staff of the Hotel Victoria The suite has quotations from Joyce, in Italian, on the furniture. Here's a photo, from their website.



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