Figures in a landscape. One of my series of postcard-sized, water colour doodles.I see that they are to make a film of the musical, Les Miserables, which seems to have a permanent place on the West End stage. Meanwhile I read the original novel by Victor Hugo. Has it been forgotten, I wonder? A pity. I can barely put it down. Though I can see how it came to be made into a musical.
I buy some pancetta from the Italian delicatessen at the bottom of the hill. I ask for some of it sliced thin like bacon and for one thick slice to use in stews and the like."You have given me an idea," says the proprietor, "I'm going to have some for breakfast tomorrow". He adds: You can always find a use for pancetta. It adds flavour to everything".
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Pancetta. One of those words for which my brain resolutely refuses to create the necessary mnemonic, and thus I'm always (silently) surprised when Mrs LdP takes a pack from the supermarket shelf. The problem may be that the word has an Italian root and I have received no teaching in Italian. (Decades back travel writers used to make jokes about Italian phrases like - I quote from memory - E pericoloso sporghesi. As well they might. I can see that "peri" links up with "peril" but that's only a short inadequate step towards the ultimate translation. Which leads me to ask the question: that Swiss industrialist you knew who claimed to have learned Italian from my libretti; it would be tragic to discover that in spite of - or because of - this roundabout route to knowledge his business career was cut short when he was he was decapitated by an oncoming train as he arrived triumphantly in Milan. A railway station designed for triumphant arrivals.)
I have no such semantic problems with lardons which seem to provide a similar function.
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