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The Landlady: The Italian Job…
The Big Daughter is trapped in Milan. I am very jealous and have, via various technological means, been trying to point out the upside of such a catastrophe to her. Is there actually a downside? I’ll get back to you on that one. The Big Daughter and her Boyfriend flew out to Milan last Friday with another couple.
The BD’s Boyfriend managed to leave his passport on the bus on the way from the airport to the hotel. After much faffing and speaking to the bus company in his native Italian, the hotel concierge managed to retrieve said passport, much to the relief of the party of four. Their female friend the declared – well-meaningly, I’m sure – that The BD’s Boyfriend was unfit to be in possession of his own passport and insisted on locking it in her own handbag for safe-keeping. To be fair, The BD’s boyfriend could often be described as a giant baby, and was in accordance with this decision. That night, the carefree foursome went on a night out, which resulted in the BD’s friend’s handbag being stolen, Boyfriend’s passport ‘safely’ stowed inside.
“One cannot possibly leave a giant baby alone in Milan”
The Big Daughter, of course, phoned her well-travelled mum (that’s me), who advised her to a) get a police report and b) go to the British Embassy in Milan. They had done both. The police were unhelpful and had directed them to the embassy, which was closed until the following Monday. They were due to fly back on the Sunday.
In my lunch hour from the supermarket, I phoned the airline, who were worse than useless. I think the cleaning lady may have made more sense. I then managed to get through to the Italian consulate in Milan, after much button-pressing and re-direction. The man had a reassuringly pleasing, yet barely decipherable Italian accent as thick and fruity as puttanesca sauce, and informed me that it would cost at least 500 euros to issue an emergency document, unless they waited until Monday, when it would cost a mere 121 euros (extra night in a hotel room and new flights to be bolted onto this charge).
I relayed this information to The Big Daughter and offered to do her hours on the pier, as it looked like she wouldn’t be back any time soon. A friend of mine pointed out that The Big Daughter could have come back and done her own hours on the pier as she was still in possession of her own passport. At this point, one has to backtrack to my giant baby comment from before. One cannot possibly leave a giant baby alone in Milan. So now over the bank holiday weekend, I will be working 14 hour days. Definitely an excuse for another holiday.