Language isn’t what matters
By Rebecca Gethin
July 15, 2023
July 15, 2023
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My grandfather, the second son of an Alpine contadino,
used to scythe grass with his sister on the slopes of Monte Saccarello for hay. To look down from there to the chasm of the tiny valley makes my head reel. After the war he walked away from his village home to start a new life in a seaside town. And when he was working as concierge in the Grand Hotel in San Remo… stop, right there! Have you ever been through the revolving door of the Grand? Seen the colonnades, the chandeliers in the hallway, heard the piano being played in the dining room, stood under the palm trees or noticed the giant tortoise roaming the garden? How did a village lad land that job? But it was there that he met a rich signorina who wore long pearls and furs and was wintering on the Rivieria dei Fiori for the sake of her lungs, on the run from her Northern English home. They married and she gave birth to my father. I’ve seen pictures of her leaning over the swaddled newborn. A great aunt told me my grandmother employed her to look after the boy while she swanned around coffee shops in San Remo. I imagine silky 1930’s dresses, long cigarette holders and cloche hats. Somewhere along the line my grandfather became a croupier in the famous casino so perhaps he was raking it in. But she was an heiress. I don’t remember her ever coming to England. What I do remember is that my grandfather spoke no English and my grandmother no Italian. |
Rebecca Gethin has written 5 poetry publications and 2 novels. She was a Hawthornden Fellow and a Poetry School tutor. Her poems are published in magazines and anthologies. Vanishings was published by Palewell Press in 2020. She won the first Coast to Coast pamphlet competition with Messages. Her next pamphlet will be published by Maytree Press in late 2023. She blogs (very) sporadically at www.rebeccagethin.wordpress.com.