24 May 2024 – Dr Sophie Louisa Bennett, PhD Conservation Biology (Lincoln 2016), MA Modern and Medieval Languages – German and Swedish (KC 1987, Cantab), Diploma in Translation – German into English (City University/Institute of Linguists 1998)
Mum and Sophie Louisa visited Mario’s ice-cream parlour on the Esplanade in Weymouth. June 2016. Sophie Louisa kept one of the serviettes because the pink and white striped packaging and the picture of the Rialto bridge in Venice appealed to her. The name made her think of a postgraduate student at King’s in Cambridge in the late 80s; a Canadian (of Italian origin) who belonged to the friendship group of her then boyfriend, Alex W. Mario who you could tell had an eye for the ladies and once memorably declared, in a Wilde-like fashion, or was that Mae West (?): “so many [wo]men, so little time”. In his defence, it was at a drunken party for postgraduates on the other side of the Cam – beyond the back lawn and the meadow and that iron portcullis-type gate that students climbed over at night after ‘curfew’.
She remembered him but didn’t see him anymore after graduation. Until by chance in the late 90s, in Venice. In her mind, she had visited twice, and so memories of those two visits could have coalesced – or perhaps when they arrived it was pouring with rain and by the end it was sunny, at least intermittently. At any rate, after a flight on which she thought she spotted Jenny Agutter – or maybe just a look-alike (she was often mocked for saying she’d spotted this or that celebrity – in fact the likelihood is that she perhaps thought she knew them better than some of her family and friends), she was spending a long weekend there and visiting the Rialto Bridge on a trip with Alex F. From a short distance she could see it was Mario from King’s but didn’t know if he saw her. She thought he may have spotted her and quickly looked away. As you do. Maybe he was revisiting family or friends and was also taking in the Biennale di Venezia. We were staying close to the waterfront in a room which reminded her of the colour of the lagoon. Quite dark in the interior downstairs, as she imagined many places were, due to the density of the buildings and their height. Elegant, and slightly faded in its grandeur.
Having studied Mann, although never having seen any film versions (only stills), she had been somehow spooked at the sight of Mario and the quietness of certain parts of Venice – a city she thought must, like others in Italy, never sleep and always be full of life and chatter. She then often thought of the place in a negative fashion; Tod in Venedig or Don’t Look Now springs to mind. And once she left Alex, she never wanted to go back again. There was always an air of decline and decay about the place to her, no odour, but humidity and cold, and the German word ‘marode’ sprang to mind. Despite the sugar-coated prettiness of the exterior of the Doge’s Palace and San Marco, the Cathedral. Probably because of Thomas Mann – von Aschenbach – grey water – and Dirk Bogarde, and the chilling film with Sutherland and Christie.
After an interval of many years, shortly before she left London in 2005, Sophie Louisa agreed to meet up with another person in a cosy alcove in the foyer of a hotel in Mayfair. Just to quickly grab a drink and chat, as the other person just happened to be in that part of town. She got there early and was waiting for that other person to arrive. She has forgotten who that was, and in her faded memory they failed to show. At some point she noticed a young girl and Mario at a nearby table. Again, she had no notion of whether he recognised her or not. There was no uncertainty in her mind that it was him. When he went off to the toilet she walked across to the girl who was waiting for him on her own and said “Hello, I think I know your Dad, could you please give my regards to him. My name is Sophie. Sophie Bennett from King’s [1987].” And then Sophie Louisa left, at least that is what she remembered.
And then there was ‘the Weymouth coincidence’. A decade or so after the last sighting of Mario, she and Mum spent a long weekend in Dorset. After a day’s sightseeing, and in need of caffeine, they had chosen at random a place by the beach – just on the other side of the road, on the Esplanade. A cup of coffee and, for Mum, a chance for a ciggie. Looking out to sea. The café looked new. Perhaps Mario, instead of returning to his native Canada, had retired to the South coast and had opened this lovely – albeit rather empty – ice-cream emporium – the colours of the Doge’s Palace – on the seafront. The serviettes were souvenir-worthy in their presentation. A smart plastic wallet containing one quality bright white serviette which could be popped in a handbag and kept ‘just in case’. The outside bore/bears an illustration of the Rialto bridge. She thought about him – about Mario – toasted him with cappuccino, even though it was already late in the afternoon. And wished him well.
My brother who is a terribly cynical person would probably laugh and say this is all imagined and that the writing is merely something inspired by On Chesil Beach, or a pale imitation of an author he and I both know.
This piece refers to people and places and events that actually took place and were not fictional in any way. All rights are reserved (well, they have to be gained) and if anyone would like to sue me or prove that this never took place, then go ahead. Dr Sophie Louisa Bennett.
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