On the Florence - Milan Frecciarossa high speed train (and what a lovely piece of engineering that is, she says as she removes her anorak) a couple of young women sat across from me at the table. One immediately burst into tears and a long Italian conversation ensued wherein Bestie reassured her friend that it was all his fault (I don’t speak Italian but some things don’t require translation).
Bestie dried Crying Girl’s eyes and then realised that her makeup was now looking rather ramshackle. Out came the travel box of makeup complete with at least two dozen shades of eye shadow, four blushes, several lip glosses and foundation, and for the next half an hour Bestie reapplied Crying Girl’s makeup while all the time soothingly reassuring her that it was still all his fault. By the time we reach Milan happiness, along with eyeliner, was restored to its full glory.
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