My second wife, now ex, was a Sicilian and we all know what that conjures up, don’t we.
She told me in confidence, a very long time ago, that her father and his brother, both who live in the UK, were connected to the Cosa Nostra. Indeed, she implied that a great deal of the family were too.
Even at my wedding, when I went to the toilet, there was one of her family dealing in drugs. Need I say more. Indeed, the wedding reception was like a Mafia convention.
Her father sexually abused her when she was around 16 and when her mother found out, she took Rosanna to Denmark, her home country for a couple of years and divorced her husband.
But when we got married, it was as though nothing had ever happened but that was Rosanna’s choice. Maybe that was why Rosanna was so protective of her children, who spent a great deal of time in her bed and why I was not allowed to wear just boxer shorts around my own house first and last thing.
That also leads to the fact that she left me for a sapphist, as Rosanna had admitted to me that she was bisexual, which I had no issue with per se.
The divorce was very acrimonious, she wanted far more than she got although, for one year of marriage, after paying nothing into the marriage and me paying off all of her debts, it was bloody crazy that she got so much. She, of course, did the usual trick during the proceedings and that was when she was being asked questions, she burst into tears and ran out of the room.
The proceedings were immediately adjourned but I could hear her laughing with her very expensive legal team, not two minutes later, as the walls were so thin.
So, neither she or her family were best pleased with the outcome.
Rosanna used to come with me and my father (Mum has passed away by then) to an Italian restaurant in Fetcham, Trattoria de Carlo and the owner actually knew the family and she got on her well with Carlo.
But, after the divorce, I went with my father and through the whole meal, all that Carlo could do was to stare at me, which made me very nervous; suffice to say that I did not enjoy my meal. I spoke to Dad quietly and explained what was going on. He understood and I walked out, never to return.
Sicily is a beautiful country and I loved it very much when Liesel and I went there years before and would be an ideal candidate for me to move to.
But, with the acrimonious divorce, the fact that everyone seems to know everyone else and the fact that the country has a certain notoriety to put it lightly, if a Brit suddenly moved to the island, whether permanently or just on holiday, I would be on my own and I would be very nervous as the knowledge of me residing on the island would soon get around and to her family.
I would be on their “home territory” and I just could not risk it. Corruption is rife in Sicily, particularly with the Police and I fear that I would just disappear.
Sicilians do not forget