Something very odd indeed has happened to time this week, but the calendar tells us that today is Sunday. And on Sunday we have lunch. So we had Sunday lockdown lunch with relatives di adozione, se non di sangue one might say in Italian, which somehow doesn’t work in English: let’s say an extended friend-family. A conference call app was coordinated, and an appointment set. At 1.30 we all sat down at our various tables across Rome, in Sardinia, and in Basilicata and ate together in our ones, twos, and threes.

There was a fair amount of confusion: the usual simultaneous dining table conversation becomes more complicated online. The little icon in the bottom of the screen showing the name of whoever was talking at that moment flickered between names at a speed I’m assuming isn’t usual in the conference rooms of Silicon Valley.

As well as what everyone was eating (we had Massimo’s celebrated carbonara with guanciale made by dear friend and master cook Carla Tomasi. When this is all over you should all go and take cooking classes with her, she’s fab!), there was of course much talk of the current situation, a certain amount of vocal disagreement, and a great deal of affection. It was lovely.

Last Sunday morning (really? not 25 years ago?), I did my last tour (for how long?) for a loyal and extremely enthusiastic repeat client. We were the last people on the Palatine Hill after they were ordered to shut down, it was an extraordinary experience and I was asked to write about it here. What a difference a week makes.