Journey through space to the Planet Fabulous, where the Ruler of the Universe will see you shortly.

Thursday, June 29, 2006

Venice Part III

I don't know what happened in the past of this great and glorious city, but you're not allowed an iron anywhere near your room in a Venetian hotel.

Was it serious? Did I miss something? I mean there's nothing on the web about the Great Rowenta Fire of '56. Or the Trouser Press Massacre of Piazza San Marco. But something must have happened to make them so paranoid about you pressing your smalls anywhere near your bedding. Instead, we were forced to do it in a little lead-lined cubbyhole where the maid works, every move watched over by the eagle-eyed, gummy Yolanda lest you move your three-setting flattener near the asbestos curtains.

And it wasn't just our pokey little hotel either. We'd gone to Venice to visit one of the Wife's glamorous friend Yvette, a very elegant lady. One of those rich people who thinks she's just 'well off', and was staying in a gorgeous place with a view and lifts and everything, and her maid left her champagne and chocolates every night. We were just grateful if we came back each night to find Yolanda hadn't sold our passports on the black market to finance her ever-growing china animal collection.

But even the glamorous Yvette in her five-star hotel room couldn't smuggle in any flattening device past Venice's 'Iron Curtain' and thankfully we all looked as crumpled a close-up of Jackie Stallone's face whenever we went out. Not that you'd want to leave that hotel room of hers - tasteful art and a beautiful Venetian glass chandelier over the bed, it was the modicum of good taste. We had a mural of fat cherubs over the bed that, despite the artist's best efforts, looked like it had been daubed with their left foot. And the chandelier? A enormous affair in pink and white that looked like some malevolent brain-sucking alien sea creature.

I still have nightmares about that light fitting to this very day.

5 comments:

Qenny said...

I suspect Yolanda doesn't want you having anything about your fabulous person that might be used as a weapon. She probably lives in fear that one day she'll be gnawing her way into your safe, and you'll leap out at have at her with a "Begone, foul safe-munching, hairy-armpitted fiend".

Perhaps.

Da Nator said...

Oh, well, that makes it all better that you've been in Venice and I've been in flooded, rural Ohio.

Queen said...

Beautiful pictures - and yes, the chandelier and cherubs were definitely scary.

klee said...

One of those cherubs looks like it's gearing up to fist the other.

How sweet.

Spike said...

Scary fucking chandelier.