My adolescent dolce vita

I saw my Italian cousins this weekend. Their visits have meant a lot since I was a kid, when they would lend a touch of style and glamour to my otherwise drab and ridiculous world.

Where I entertained myself by watching Neighbours and burning polystyrene, they played tennis and rode Vespas. While I would make myself Monster Munch and Ketchup sandwiches as an after-school snack, they knew how to knock up a spaghetti puntanesca

with one hand while reading a folded copy of Gazetta dello Sport with the other. These boys were sipping double espressos and smoking 13 Marlboro Lights an hour by the time they were ten. I begged them to teach me their ways and they were more than happy to do so. They had more nuggets of lifestyle guidance than the Catholic church: never eat dinner before nine o'clock; never eat courgettes after lunch; don't put your coffee pot in the dishwasher... It was almost too much to keep up with. But I listened intently until I too could live my own adolescent

Never eat courgettes after lunch; don’t put your coffee pot in the dishwasher