Well, we were finally here. We had successfully booked in the previous night and unlike previous hotel stops, we had to have a twin room as opposed to a room each. I never stopped to think about it or question it, frankly but I guess I should have done as to why a relatively deserted Out Of Season Italian lakeside village should have mostly closed hostelries but the one that we could get into could only give us a twin as opposed to two doubles…
Never mind, it was what it was and I was just glad to be there in one piece. The same couldn’t really be said for my sister; y’see, back in the day before Fubar2 even knew what Sleep Apnoea was, much less being diagnosed with it (that would come the following year in northern California), he was a Snorer of a Professional Level. This was a source of great concern to those who had the misfortune of ever having to share a room with him who did not sleep the sleep of the dead.
One being my poor sister. Foam earplugs, plus a hand-towel wrapped around her head like a turban regrettably did not dampen or attenuate the window rattling drones of Fubar2’s noctural snoring patterns. I obviously apologised and stated the somewhat useless platitude of I didnt choose to do it, it just was what it was.
So, the start on the Tuesday morning was slightly earlier than expected because we had to go and speak with the local council about having access to the chapel on the Wednesday morning and deal with some local formalities. One of which was finding a local florist and somewhere to eat during the day and where to get coffee and any provisions that we wanted to take back.
After a brief continental breakfast, we sought out the local Commune offices and took our printout from the email that I had been sent telling us to engage with them the day before the scattering of the ashes so that the formalities could be arranged for the following day. We also found a small florist, conveniently next to the council offices which allowed us to order some white roses for the following morning, to be able to place at the site where the ashes were to be scattered.
In addition to being able to order the roses, we were also able to get hold of a small lemon tree in a 30cm terracotta pot. As the village’s name suggests, the climate is most agreeable to the growing of citrus plants, especially lemons and the larger Amalfi lemons grow quite freely throughout the village, in the same way that brambles do in the UK, which is quite a sight to see if you’re not expecting it. Just walking around a corner and up a flight of stairs to a church and there are Amalfi lemons the size of hand grenades, growing as freely as knotweed and brambles do here….
We were also waiting for The Late Mrs F’s Best Friend to arrive with her son and daughter as well, who wanted to be part of the occasion. They were extremely close friends throughout their whole lives and as I’ve mentioned before, this particular mother and son and daughter were very very close to Mrs F’s family and were held in great love and affection.
BF is one of the most inspiring people I have ever met and was one of three sisters born to an irish family in the East End of London in the very late 1950’s and early 60s and two of the sisters have been diagnosed with the congenital eye disease Retinitis Pigmentosa which has let them both to be almost completely blind by the time they reached their early 50’s.
At no point did she ever let this stop her being a wife, mother, legal secretary, charity fundraiser, including sponsored walking across glaciers in Iceland, including sponsored walking of coastal paths and raising her own children virtually completely single-handed when her husband and father of the children decided that he loved himself more than he loved her. Her second husband had passed away less than 6 months before Mrs F, from what we believed was leukaemia. So, she’d seen enough heartbreak and tragedy in the most recent 12 months to last her a lifetime.
She has since become a qualified dance instructor and yoga instructor for those who are either blind or have visual impairments and runs her own classes from a garden office building where she lives in Hornchurch.
She just simply does not know the meaning of the word “can’t” and I admire her resilience and her spirit in which she approaches life greatly and I completely trust her judgement. Her children are my god-children and I love them both as if they were my own and she is one of the most important people in my life.
She and the children were due to arrive into Verona airport later on that day and to take a private vehicle transfer from Verona to Limone, following the same autostrada and the same route as I described earlier. We had confirmation that they had set off from Gatwick and were inbound and in the meantime, Alison and I went back into the centre of the village to take some pictures and to check the route to the chapel.
As a quick summary, Limone as a regular settlement, has a population of approx 1100, although this can swell during the tourist season to about 2500, the majority of them being either Brits or more likely, Germans. As we proved in our own trip, its not an onerous drive from Germany to the Lakes, no more than it is for those in the Midlands in England to Cornwall or the Lake District, as a comparison. So as a result, a lot of the tourists here are Germans.
Until 1932, the only way you could reach it was by boat as the Road through Riva Del Garda wasnt completed until then. It was also found in 1979 that some of the residents have a mutant form of an apolipoprotein (proteins that bind lipids to form lipoproteins for those who didn’t know. No, me neither). This, apparently induces a more healthy form of HDL cholesterol which has resulted in a lower risk of certain cardiovascular conditions. This has led to over a dozen people living to beyond the age of 100 and this has been traced back to a couple who lived there in the 17th Century. Bet ya didnt know that.
Notwithstanding those features and elements of its history, it is to my mind, one of the most heartstoppingly beautiful places on earth, especially the view from the piazza at the front of the chapel across the lake towards Malcesine, when you have the northern lake mountains at your back towering over you. No picture I can ever supply can do it justice to what it feels like when you see it for real and in the flesh.
The Late Mrs F and I first visited Limone during Whitsun week in 2008 for a short break of 5 days at a hotel just outside the village. We fell in love with the charm and character of the place and when we saw this particular tiny chapel on the side of the lake, the Chiesa San Rocco, it had a profound effect on us.
So much so, that we made a vow to renew our wedding vows there at some point, either at the 5 or 10 year anniversary stage, but the combinations of working in Belgium for 2 years and then her illness which rendered her unable to fly made that a vow that I was unable to fulfil in the time we had left together.
So, really, when it came to it, the only place we could possibly lay her remains to rest, was as close the courtyard of the Chiesa San Rocco as we could. The Chiesa itself is a historical religious site going back to the 16th Century as a thanksgiving for the people of the village who had escaped the contagious plague that hit most of Italy in those early years. It was completed over the following two centuries and was extensively damaged during World War 2; however in 1957, a restoration project brought it back to life and it remains dedicated to a Catholic saint from that plague-era period; it is renowed for its beautiful frescoes and the achingly beautiful setting on the side of the lake.
I know I am given sometimes to hyperbole, but it is to my mind, one of the most beautiful places on earth. For obvious reasons, the Chiesa San Rocco is beyond special to me and my family.
The council, when we spoke to them that morning would not allow us to scatter her ashes on the piazza itself and frankly, it wasnt an idea that I thought was a good idea when we got there and looked at it in more detail. Just to the left of the Chiesa is a walled garden and it was agreed with the council that we would conduct our own small private ceremony just outside that walled garden on the morning of the 21st March.
BF and the god-children arrived later that afternoon and were also like us, settled in, in a family room at the Casa Albergo. Later on that evening, we brought them up to speed as to what had been spoken about with the council and what the plans were for the morning and went out for dinner in the village again at the same restaurant that Alison and I had gone to the previous night.
Tomorrow was to be the big day.
© text & photos Fubar2 2025
