Remains of the Day

Posted on March 27, 2020 by volpeadrian

We are crossing the Rubicon…

Our own Caesar at the helm, Brutus and Titus Andronicus are close at hand.

We are at War; this is our Sparta!

For the moment there will be no more tales of debauchery, evenings with Bacchus, no snorkelling naked in the snow, although it has felt like that on the bike the last few mornings.

It’s locked down, rather than a lock-in. A tale of splendid isolation.

Boris and Rishi have promised much, and it is time to see some flesh on those bones, otherwise I’ll be grinding them to make my bread; whilst watching Lord of the Rings, and Game of Thrones back to back… I will be a ‘White Walker’

Perhaps, it’s time to become a ‘Superspreader’, of a different ilk, of kindness and goodwill; good deeds and kind acts.

Given the sales of alcohol, and the fact that Off Licenses have been added to the list of essential shops, let’s raise a glass, maybe a ‘Quarantini’ and toast those who are caring for those amongst us who are suffering, they deserve our thoughts and support at a very difficult time for all of us.

Long let this be long remembered, as long as human nature doesn’t get in the way. A leaf out of the anarchic writings of Peter Kropotkin, “It is only those who do nothing, who make no mistakes”.

Let’s see how long that lasts.

This splendid isolation however, does not mean I will be silent, this and many other rantings will follow. Probably at a time of day when I feel you may dull by drudgery, low of ebb or craving sugar!

There is new stock!

I will drip feed it. I can’t have you all fighting and swooning over it.

It may be the last for quite some time.

I will still be available to talk and do business over the phone, email, WhatsApp, and my onlyfans page…

So, if you see a little of what you fancy contact me, we are sending out parcels here, there and everywhere. There will not be the normal quantities, once it is gone, it is gone. Get them while they’re hot! If there is an itch, we will scratch it.

Unfortunately, we are unable to hold anything unless paid for, and as before mentioned, it can also be packed and shipped to you. Cash flow is King!

The shop is CLOSED until we are allowed to re-open. The shutters are drawn and the lights are off.

However, I am in the shop regularly to deal with this continuing ‘online’ type of business. Also, to keep it clean, make sure there are no problems and deal with administrative matters. It’s not online or mail order, sort of somewhere in between, and please do not worry, I am strictly following the Government’s guidelines on social distancing and hygiene.

For those who have kindly asked, my 91-year-old mother remains well. She has the help and support of her neighbours, who have been magnificent dropping food parcels outside her front door and regularly checking on her. My brother and I are mightily grateful, and she remains in the spirits we would expect. Pickled? None of your business…

A Square Mile

Posted on March 13, 2020 by volpeadrian

From an interview for Square Mile Magazine:

Is there anything that won’t come back into fashion?

Fanny packs worn strapped to your chest. Those stacked, platform trainers that the Spice Girls used to wear. MC Hammer harem pants. Men’s fashion is seemingly engaged in a ‘go-on-we-dare-you’ race to make you look as silly as possible. And, we’re all for it. After all, the world would be a dull place without white socks worn with hiking sandals (yes, that’s a thing now too).

Gentleman, Adrian Holdsworth, of Volpe Sartoriale, cult purveyor of luxury made-to-measure Italian tailoring, believes that the wheels of fashion are about to turn once again to welcome the return of two items previously thought dead: the three piece suit and tie. “Yes, I know offices are becoming more casual,” says Holdsworth. “But you know, if you want to be different, why not be the one guy in the bar wearing a tie? It’s a lot more comfy than having a hairy beard. A tie adds edge. Think of it as the lead singer of the band.”

Next up, the three-piece suit. Now, we all love little Gareth Southgate, but mainly because of his managerial skills. So instead of his M&S (Marks & Spencer) waistcoat, why not try an ‘MMM’ waistcoat, which stands for ‘Middle Aged Millionaire Milanese’?

Anyone who’s spent any time in Italy will have noticed chic middle-aged Italian men running around in zip-up gilets made from cashmere or flannel wool, either worn over a jumper or underneath a blazer with the zip-up funnel neck showing beneath the lapel. It’s what the MMM wear on the ‘fine settimana’.

At Volpe Sartoriale you can order a zip-up gilet made out of the same Vitale Canonico Barberis flannel as your suit, to create a new, sportier ‘MMM’ re-mix of the traditional 3-piece. Said gilet can even be worn separately from the suit with a cashmere jumper over the weekend. “It is a suit, but just a little twisted,” says Holdsworth.

“Men are becoming more confident when it comes to their made-to-measure suits. I try to help the customer find their personal style and if you want to try something a little different then we can do that. After all, the only way to be modern is to be yourself.”

The zip-up gilet 3 piece is something Volpe have been doing for years. Just try not to wear it with a strap on fanny pack.

Triple Sec…

Posted on March 5, 2020 by volpeadrian

I have been shaken, so now, I have stirred!

I am out the back, building an ark.

Is this the era of the soothsayer, or perhaps the winter of our discontent?

Woe is me; woe is me, thrice woe…

Thrice is more than twice.

Doesn’t it always come in threes? Why? Because three is a magic number!

Three little pigs, three times a lady, three coins in a fountain. You wait hours for a bus and then three come along together. Three in the bed and the little one said roll over, roll over! Three, blind mice!

Triple Salco, triple sec, two wrongs don’t make a right… but I’m into my second Quattro Bianchi, there is now no woe, and as usual I am making no sense at all.

My friend Omar was right, there is a fourth dimension…

It looks, so innocent, translucent, slightly viscous, the tiniest sliver of lemon peel. My friend Richard was enjoying his umpteenth pint, whilst I sipped on a Martini that should have had a palm tree, rather than an olive sticking out of it; and so, went my evening with an Australian and an Egyptian.

Martini’s do that to me, but worth all the calories.

I was becoming a touch paranoid because I now seemed to be floating amongst the pieces on a three-dimensional chess board and I had become incapable of employing the Pirc-Robatsch Defence. Deep in the back of my mind I could hear Garry whispering to me this was how he defeated Anatoly. Ipcress, tell me, is it the vodka talking?

Then Chandra in all her glory showed me Ophiucus, and I was drawn across 390 million light years of space, down a spiralling worm hole, I disappeared into the darkness, isolated for an eternity, or at least a fortnight. Had I, like the drink, become ‘Unseen’?

Had I become Hades?

Whilst I wasn’t looking, Persephone ate some of the seeds from the pomegranate Moscow Mule I had offered her. It wasn’t the alcohol that was not her undoing, it was the fact that anything she ate in the underworld, tied her to it, destined never to leave. No time to die… she should have washed her hands of me.

Any way back to that ark…

I say ark, but there’ll be none of that two by two nonsense, given our selfish and self-obsessed world, I shall be climbing aboard and self-quarantining alone.

I considered surrounding myself with hand sanitising gel and loo rolls, but Boots (other pharmacies are available) are out of stock, and I’m not sure that going out on a boat made of wood, surrounded by paper and Napalm is such a good idea. However, it would afford me a spectacular Viking burial as I floated towards the Thames.

I had to just check the ingredients which now means, if I wasn’t already, I am now on MI5’s radar… and on that note Bond is having a lie in, 6 months’ worth of duvet days.

Time for a re-write.

The recipe for the Quattro Bianchi was as follows:

2 measures of Belvedere vodka, 2 of Hendricks gin, 1 of Lillet Blanc, 1 of Noilly Prat and decorated with a sliver of lemon zest…

I must admit to being thirsty again!