Henrietta Bredin was in need of R&R. She found it on a lake
At the dusty end of August my friend Patrick and I supped a little wearily together and agreed that what we were both pining for was a thoroughly old-fashioned sort of a holiday, in a small and charming hotel, maybe on a Swiss lake, accompanied by a large pile of novels (no e-readers for us, thank you very much). The following day he was buying stamps in his local post office and fell into conversation with a woman who was bemoaning the Swiss franc exchange rate and the expense of holidaying there. Dismissing Switzerland on the spot he wondered rhetorically whether an Italian lake might be an appealing option. His new acquaintance promptly endorsed this idea with enthusiasm and commendably specific detail, saying that the place to go was Lenno, on Lake Como, and that we should stay at the Hotel San Giorgio. So we did. We booked rooms in...
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