I always go to the Italian shop in Maidenhead in the run-up the Christmas, together with the Granary in Watlington and Fortnum & Mason on Piccadilly, it is part of my personal Christmas rituals. It is like a cave of wonders and I am just like a small child in a sweetie shop – except instead of pocket money, I am armed with a credit card, which sadly I am not afraid to use.   

It is a dangerous shop to enter without a list because pretty much everything looks great – even the tinned tomatoes. However, to be completely honest it is not the tinned goods that are my downfall, the deli counter and the sweet treats (of which there are many) are my undoing. Is there anything more magnificent than a really gooey piece of Gorgonzola? Just a small piece I said to the lady behind the counter and then when she took me at my word, I had to ask her to double the size of the slice she was about to cut. Fortunately, I had temporarily forgotten that there are currently just two of us at the Outhouse and so there was more than enough cheese for both of us.

I was just congratulating myself for not having gone too crazy, when at the checkout the Manager asked me if I’d spotted the limoncello panettones – what a fabulous Christmas present for the Norfolk Broad contingent I thought, and then a sort of frenzy ensued. I thought while I was at it I might as well add amaretti biscuits (2 packets, well 1 packet and 1 tin), some chocolates and a fig & walnut something or the other (the label is in Italian, but the picture looks nice) for my Dad.

In a relatively short space of time the bill had moved from close to reasonable to completely extravagant and I left weighted down with lots of lovely things, none of which I really needed. The gorgonzola lasted the weekend (just) and unsurprisingly my dreams were beyond crazy. There is also one small snag, I may have gone too soon. I usually only venture there well into December, but this year, due to the combination of annual leave and Lockdown 2.0 fatigue, the Christmas pilgrimage was made in November, leaving enough time for a second run. The jar of black cherries in kirsch I nearly bought is calling to me.