Ford and Capri, a marriage made in heaven?

The Isle of Capri, where clearly, Ford produced arguably their most iconic car of the 1970’s, is a dramatic volcanic island which juts out of the Mediterranean, just like the erection I used to get when I first saw the Capri Ghia. The island is almost as beautiful as the first time I set eyes on that car, but the difference is that the island has retained its great beauty, whilst Ford’s creation now looks aged and outdated. Any comments suggesting that there is any connection between that statement and an aged and successful writer, responsible for this daily column, will be edited and trashed.

We motored out on the fabulous yacht Sea Breezes, our home for the next few days, from the beautiful Italian Coastal resort of Sorrento after breakfast, and anchored before lunch by some very impressive rocks and an archway through which smaller boats than Sea Breezes could pass. I took this picture of the rocks and the arch, and was struck by the rock on the right which looks a like some giant crouching prehistoric animal. Ok, I will try to stay off the booze for a few days.

Pre historic animal or Loudmouth Largy?

Lunch was served aboard the boat, and at one stage I seemingly misheard an instruction to get something from under the sink. I was informed by that Nice Lady Decorator that she did not think I knew the meaning of the word sink, but trust me, as a non swimmer aboard a boat, I do, and I get nervous when the word comes into the conversation. Anyway, I was able to rid myself of that sinking feeling and enjoy a few glasses of a nice Italian red, when suddenly we saw a wasp, despite the fact that we were some 200 yards from land. I had earlier seen a fly swatter in the galley (I know all nearly all the terminology now, although the poop deck has me guessing) and was given it by That Nice Lady Decorator so that I could deal with, as she put it, “anything small and irritating”. Perhaps I should not have swatted her, but the opportunity was too good to miss. The stitches will come out in the morning and I am sure the swelling will go down eventually.

We were going to continue our circumnavigation (which sounds like a description of a Jewish chap going around in circles) of Capri after lunch, but with Amalfi calling, there was not enough time to do both, so we drove there instead. Driving is what you do on a motor yacht. Amalfi is a beautiful old Italian port and we managed to secure the next to last berth in the cute and tiny harbour.

At dinner, the subject of Loudmouth Largy, who had been a guest aboard Sea Breezes the week before,
reared its loud and ugly head and I was heard to say that we were on the Amalfi coast but thankfully not in the company of a mouthy oaf (ok, I accept that is a bit contrived, but you cannot expect quality every day, indeed any day in this column – no, but you can get quality when it comes to foreign exchange transactions if you sign up for an account with Currencies Direct here).

As we had entered the port, I was asked if I could be ready with the fender, but as I explained, I have just sold many of my music rights and anyway I never played guitar.

We had just settled down for an early evening drink, once moored, when a the nastiest loud gaudy super yacht backed in to the last berth beside us. If this boat cost less than £50 million then I would be surprised, but money does not convey taste. Green and purple LED lights and techno music blaring out, parked in a quintessentially ancient Italian Port was as nasty and inappropriate sight as Loudmouth Largy with a lager sized Limoncello.

Chris France
@Valbonne_News