Harry's bar

This is how I remember it. The room was smallish and unexpectedly cozy. At the tables around it, sure enough, were smoky-looking, hooded-eyed, tweedy, sometimes hatted, heavily made-up but rather weather-beaten persons I took to be members of the Italian aristocracy (....) The conversation level was low but intense, there was a discreet clinking of plates somewhere out of sight, and a solitary ample man at a table by himself was already well into a plate of scampi. Everybody, even the scampi man, looked up as I made my entrance...

Jan Morris

Comments are closed.