Index of Posts: Slices of Shona's Life
Memories of Shona

From Marta Cacho Casal

It was pretty clear to me from the start that Shona and I were going to be friends. She had this way of making instantly clear that she wanted to spend more time with you. I was very lucky to spend lots of time with her here in Florence, where we met thanks to the Villa I Tatti. I asked her, 'Did Bologna medieval professors have pictures in their houses?' Shona kept on answering that question over the past few months, every time she found some evidence, she would hurry back to me to tell me and pointed at completely unreadable (to most eyes) documents that proved or not her point. Shona was also my good neighbour and she would often come and pick me up on her crumbling baby-blue bike in order to go to I Tatti together. I relish every second of those twenty-minute walks before getting on Gennaro's mini-bus where we would talk about our lives in Florence, catch up with research progress (or lack of: 'working hard, or hardly working?'-she would ask me), talk about our families, and look forward to lunch. Although Florence is packed with tourists it was not a problem to catch sight of Shona in the crowds- the answer was often purple, which would come in the shape of a hat, a jumper, or a scarf. Shona also loved a bargain, one of the great triumphs was a shearling (which she use to pronounce 'scirling') bottle-green jacket, which she had bought for ten euros in the Cascine market. The jacket was by all standards unsightly, and most certainly a man's model. Shona would often brag about it 'got it for 10 euros, you know'. the jacket joined us on our winter outings, often layered with other trophies from the Cascine: 'this one two euros!' Alina was good at humouring her in her hunt for vintage clothes, and in one of our last visits we got lost in the market of Piazza dei Ciompi where she had acquired an enormous pair of brown plastic clip-on earrings. The last time I saw Shona, she came to my flat to pick up a trolley bag she needed to travel to Namur. Before she rushed down the four-floor staircase, she retraced her steps, in order to give me a big hug. I remember thinking as she left, how lucky I was to have her as a friend.

Marta Cacho Casal

PrintView Printer Friendly Version

EmailEmail Article to Friend

Reader Comments

There are no comments for this journal entry. To create a new comment, use the form below.

PostPost a New Comment

Enter your information below to add a new comment.
Author Email (optional):
Author URL (optional):
Some HTML allowed: <a href="" title=""> <abbr title=""> <acronym title=""> <b> <blockquote cite=""> <code> <em> <i> <strike> <strong>
« From Chris Carlsmith | Main | From Carol Lansing »