Continuing the Italian job in 1980's Milan

After receiving several requests for a continuation of my trip to Milan, we pick up on what happened next. Ed, my much older colleague/travelling companion and I had just arrived in the city and had made our way to our hotel. We’d had to share a room, which wasn't quite what I'd envisaged, but needs must and all that.

It wasn’t too bad in the end, although the sight of my colleague sitting there in his pyjamas, writing up his daily report, is one I’d rather forget. Nothing personal, it’s just that I prefer my own space and my own company before clambering into bed.

Ed may well have snored, but I was normally comatose after too much red wine to notice. Looking back, I think he had the decency to smoke his cigarette whilst leaning out the window, but as long as he wasn’t blowing smoke in my face I wasn’t too bothered. Smoking tobacco hadn’t been demonised back then, and most people didn't give it a second thought.

These details aside, I always find it fascinating waking up in a strange city on the first morning, and seeing how different  things look  in daylight. This is especially so when arriving late the previous evening. There’s a slightly sinister and unfriendly feel to an unfamiliar town or city after dark; a feeling that vanishes come daylight – especially if the sun is shining. I had a similar experience on my first visit to Munich, some twenty years later.  

The above is a prime example of perception differing from reality, and when I awoke on that first morning in Milan, the sun was shining and the streets below our hotel window were already bustling with life. The buzz, created by a city coming to life and getting moving, is a familiar one the world over, but this being Italy, there were cars honking their horns, and the occasional screeching of tyres. More of that later!

I hurried down to breakfast, leaving my colleague to follow on behind. He’d been busy making plans for the clients we were due to visit that day, whereas I’d already slipped into holiday mode, despite officially being there on business.

As mentioned in the first post, we’d left ourselves in the capable hands of our agent in northern Italy, a rather colourful but equally pleasant character called Pierre Spadonni. After breakfast we found Pierre waiting in the hotel lobby; a pattern that was repeated on subsequent mornings. After the introductions, he bundled us into his car and off we went.

We hadn’t travelled far when Pierre pulled over and told us we were stopping for a coffee. He did the same thing the following morning and the one after that, much to my colleague’s annoyance, but I was more than happy with this arrangement.   

Cappuccinos all round was the order, and to someone like me who though a cup of coffee was a cup of coffee, this was a real eye-opener. Don’t forget, this was the early 1980’s, before the rise of chains such as Costa or Café Nero, when a frothy coffee was considered the height of sophistication. 

Apart from the field test I was due to conduct, there’s little I remember about the potential customers that Pierre had lined up for us. The tests weren’t scheduled until the following morning, so in the meantime, I was quite happy to sit back and just go with the flow. 

What I do remember with some fondness, were the long lunches, lubricated with plenty of excellent local wine.  I also remember my colleague’s frustration over the time these culinary experiences were taking as, in his words, we were spending more time dining than meeting with clients.

He probably had a point, as I’m sure the company directors would have viewed our trip as rather more just a goodwill visit. Having splashed out on sending the pair of us abroad, they were undoubtedly looking for an increase sales. Fortunately, that wasn’t within my remit, although my turn would come the following morning, and there was a lot riding on the results of my field tests.

Before going any further, allow me to write a bit more about our Italian host. Pierre was excellent company, being charming, suave and sophisticated and all without being overpowering. He really went out of his way to make our visit enjoyable and pleasant. My only criticism was his driving, and here he really lived up to the Italian reputation of being a menace behind the wheel. 

First there were the three-lane highways, with the middle “overtaking” lane used by traffic coming in both directions. You can imagine the white knuckle ride those journeys turned out to be.  I’m old enough to remember certain roads in the UK having this middle, free-for-all, “suicide lane,” but our Italian host gave them a whole new dimension! 

Then there was the parking. On the second morning Pierre pulled up outside his favourite café for the obligatory cappuccino. Unfortunately, there were no spaces next to the curb, so instead he abandoned the car, leaving it double-parked.  “You can’t just leave your car there, Pierre,” I said. He shrugged his shoulders and replied “Why not? It’s no problem.”

The best bit came one long lunchtime, when we pulled up at a restaurant where the car park was at the rear. It looked like an old bombsite, and probably was. There were still plenty of them around in England at the time, and many of them doubled up as car parks. All have long since vanished, given the value of town and city centre building plots, but this one reminded me of a site in Tonbridge, close to the railway.

We enjoyed another excellent lunch, but when we returned to Pierre’s car, we discovered it had been boxed in. “What are you going to do, Pierre?” my colleague and I asked. We suggested asking in the restaurant, as to the owner of the offending vehicle.  As per the previous morning, our host just shrugged his shoulders, uttered the words “No problem,” climbed into the car, started it up and then literally shunted the vehicle in question out of the way, be repeatedly ramming it. All in a day’s work, I suppose, but not the sort of thing you’d get away with in the UK.

So, what about the tests I conducted on the water filter installation?  As mentioned previously, the unit had been installed at a railway crossing keeper's “hut” – it was more like a small house, in a remote location. My job was to prove the filtration system was capable of removing bacteria from the water supply, thereby rendering it suitable for drinking. 

I’d brought several “dip-slides” along with me, as the use of these items is the most commonly used means of testing for the presence of microbial activity in water systems. Dip slides are convenient, simple to use and cost effective.  The tests were relatively easy to carry out and involved taking samples from both the clean and dirty sides of the filter unit. Ideally, I then had to keep the dip-tube samples cool until we returned to the UK. Fortunately, the mini bar in our hotel room had a built-in fridge, although for some strange reason my colleague subsequently declined all drinks stored therein. 

We were accompanied to the crossing keeper’s hut by a dignitary from the Italian railways, which of course meant another extended lunch! We visited a nearby, rural restaurant, and were served a dish of small birds that had been coated in breadcrumbs and then pan-fried. I’ve no idea which avian variety they were, and no-one could tell me either, despite me listing every type of game bird I could think of.

They were probably just wild birds, such as thrushes, starlings or sparrow, that had been trapped in nets, hung in the trees. Don’t tell the animal rights people, but I ate them anyway. There wasn’t much meat on them, and I’ve probably eaten far worse things in China and Japan! Once again, there was plenty of good local wine available to wash this unusual dish down, and I’m sure our local crossing keeper, enjoyed being treated to dinner by one of the bosses from Ferrovie dello Stato Italiane S.p.A.

Apart from all this wining and dining, Ed and I had at least one evening free for sight-seeing.  We stood on the steps of Milan’s magnificent cathedral or Duomo, before walking round to La Scala; the city’s world-famous opera house. My colleague had promised his wife that he would take a look at La Scala, but I’d never heard of the place. After a peep inside, we both agreed that it was somewhat underwhelming. Making our way back to the hotel afterwards we passed through a luxury shopping arcade, complete with lots of big fashion names.

I also went off for a walk on my own one evening, much to Ed’s consternation of. I don’t know what he thought might happen to me, but I felt quite safe and had an enjoyable look around neighbourhood. True to habit, l stopped off for a glass of beer which I enjoyed whilst sitting at an outside, pavement table.

One afternoon we paid a brief visit to the Milan Trade Fair, where an exhibition of packaging machinery was taking place. It’s worth mentioning that the Italians have a good reputation for light engineering and the production of medium-size industrial equipment. The country's factories specialise in filling machinery and equipment for packing lines. If proof of this were needed, my current firm has several pieces of Italian-made filling and packaging equipment.

When it was time for us to leave, Pierre picked us up and drove us to Malpensa Airport. He’d been an excellent host and had helped make our time in Milan as enjoyable as possible. We had a smooth and relaxing flight back to the UK, and because I had a window seat, I was able to look down on the Italian Lakes far below us as we approached the Alps. 

The trip was certainly a memorable one for me, and was also good from the company’s point. The dip-slide samples I’d taken, demonstrated that our filter unit had removed the microbes that had been present in the source water.  Our crossing keeper friend could now enjoy a glass of water without risking a gippy tummy, and the Italian State Railways subsequently placed a large order for our filter systems.

Traveller's tales - on business in 1980's Milan

Milan Cathedral - by Jiuguang Wang - Own work, CC BY-SA 3.0,

Here’s a tale from nearly 40 years ago, when I was in my mid-twenties. As well as being younger, I was also quite a bit slimmer, but apart from that I was more or less as I am now. One thing that was different though, was I was nowhere near as worldly wise as I am today.  The tale is about my first foreign business trip, and whilst it was only to northern Italy, it still turned out to be quite an adventure.

The company I worked for at the time, specialised in water treatment equipment. It was based in Tonbridge and there were two different sides to the business; both involving water treatment.  Effectively these two sides were different divisions because whilst the firm had been formed by the merger of two different companies, the powers that be never really got around to properly integrating the two businesses.

One half of the company was very much engineering based and manufactured chlorination equipment for both water treatment works and swimming pools. The other more industrial, but less glamorous division produced ceramic water filters. These were primarily sold in emerging markets, because they provided a cheap but effective way of removing bacteria from drinking water.

It was rather like the early days at British Airways which, after being formed by a merger of BEA (British European Airways) and BOAC (British Overseas Airways Corporation), still had employees identifying with whichever of the two constituent companies they had originated from.

I was employed as Company Chemist and worked primarily on a lucrative seawater desalination kit which we produced on behalf of the MOD, but on occasion my knowledge and expertise, were sometimes called on by one or both of the two main divisions.

This was how I ended up being asked to accompany the filter division’s Head of Sales on a trip to Italy, to conduct some field tests on a recently installed water filter unit. The latter had been fitted at a railway crossing keeper’s hut in a remote location.  The Italian State Railways were keen to install such units at other isolated parts of the network, in order to ensure a safe supply of potable water for their employees, but they wanted some form of reassurance that the filters were effective in the field, and that is where I stepped in.

I was quite excited, but also a little nervous, as the trip to Milan involved my first ever commercial flight. I’d been up in a couple of light aircraft, prior to this, but the world of airports and jet airliners was a new one to me. 

I left the company to make all the arrangements, there were secretaries who organised those sort of things back in the mid-80’s, so apart from packing my suitcase and making sure my passport was up to date, all I had to do was turn up and present myself at Heathrow Airport, on the allotted day.

I’ve a strong feeling it was a Sunday, and I’d arranged to meet my colleague in the departure lounge at Heathrow. We’d be leaving from one of the older terminals, 2 or possibly 3, so after a journey to the far end of the Piccadilly Line, I arrived at the airport in plenty of time.

Source: McCarthy/Daily Express/Hulton Archive/Getty Images

Before going further, a word or two about my travelling companion.  He was at least twice my age, and a real “old school” salesman. Because of this age difference, he’s almost certainly no longer with us, but even so I won’t use his real name. I instead we’ll call him Ed. He was a real genuine nice guy, and a proper gentleman as well. 

I’m also sure that because of the age difference he adopted a fatherly attitude to me. Because of the age difference he might not have been someone I would normally have spent much time with, but he certainly had a good collection of traveller’s tales to tell of his experiences as a salesman in many different parts of the world. 

These attributes aside, when I spotted him that afternoon at the airport, I nearly died of embarrassment. Ed was dressed in a safari suit (remember them?), but thankfully minus the shorts. Even so I found it hard to believe, especially as we were going to northern Italy, rather than darkest Africa!  What's even more disconcerting, is the fact that Milan is one of the world's top centres of the fashion industry.

By Ken Iwelumo - https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=18355324

What I did next, was rather childish, but as I said I was only in my mid-twenties. I’d spotted Ed from an upper floor balcony, where I’d been enjoying a cup of coffee. He was standing there on the lower floor looking around and obviously trying to spot me. I decided to remain out of sight and let him sweat a bit. I left things almost until the last moment, when I could see my travelling companion looking anxiously at this watch. 

Eventually I decided I’d better show my face, so I descended the stairs and nonchalantly approached my colleague.  I made up a story about a delay on the Underground, before we marched off to check in our bags and board the plane.  There was little in the way of security back then, but I do remember the seat allocation process.  My colleague was a smoker, and a heavy one at that, and back in the day they amazingly allowed nicotine addicts to smoke on aircraft. 

He was on his own there, as I had no desire to sit next to a heavy smoker or even in a section of the aircraft that was full of the fug of cigarette smoke.  My companion seemed disappointed, but tough. We boarded, the aircraft and found our respective seats. The plane taxied to the end of the runway ready for take-off, and a short while later we were airborne.

Some sort of a meal was served on the plane along with a drink. We were flying BA, so I was rather annoyed to be offered a can of Heineken. Surely British Airways should be offering something more local? British Rail at the time, served  Ruddles County in their buffet cars , so why couldn’t the national carrier do something similar? 

The flight was smooth and uneventful until we crossed the Alps, and it was then that we ran into a thunderstorm.  Things got a bit bumpy after that as the aircraft was buffeted by the storm. It was getting dark as we began our descent, and periodic flashes of lightning were lighting up the cabin, when the captain’s voice came over the tannoy. He announced that due to the adverse weather conditions, we would be diverting to Milan Linate, rather than the much larger Malpensa, which is the main airport Milan.

Despite this drama, we landed without incident, but than came the fun bit of finding our way into the centre of Milan and locating our hotel. Because of the diversion to our flight, the airport authorities had laid on coaches to transport the diverted flights into the city but being Italy, this was not without its share of chaos and confusion.

I allowed my seasoned traveling companion to sort out which coach we needed to board, and from memory we were dropped off at Milan’s main bus station, where we were able to take a taxi to our hotel.There’s not much to say about the latter. It was pleasant enough and served a decent continental breakfast, but there was one drawback which was Ed and I had to share a room!

This was because a large trade fair was taking place in Milan at the time of our visit, one of several that occur throughout the year, and consequently, hotel rooms were at a premium. It wasn’t quite as easy to check this sort of thing in  pre-internet days, but our locally based sales agent, who would be looking after us for the duration of our stay, should have known. But perhaps not, given the laid-back, easy going nature of this sharply dressed, smooth talking Italian gentleman.

We’ll be meeting him in the next installment, so I’ll end the narrative here for the time being, and then continue next time.

Probably NOT the best beer deal in the world!

I am rather surprised that so few bloggers and beer writers picked up on last week’s story, concerning joint venture between Danish brewer Carlsberg and British brewer Marston’s. Under the deal, the Danish firm will own 60% of the new Carlsberg Marston’s Brewing Company with Marston’s holding 40%. The Burton-based brewer will also receive a cash payment of up to £273m.

This cash injection, whilst welcome, won’t go far towards easing Marston’s massive £1.39 billion debt; a burden they were planning to clear by selling off some of their less profitable pubs. Then, along came Corona-virus.

The merger casts doubt on the future of the other breweries and brands owned by Marston’s, in particular the Wychwood Brewery—home of Hobgoblin beers, plus well-regarded regional brands like Jennings and Ringwood. Veteran beer writer Roger Protz described the deal as “alarming,” adding he was worried about the fate of the Jennings Brewery in Cumberland, as well as the future of Draught Bass, which Marston’s contract brew, in Burton, on behalf of AB InBev. 

When approached, a spokesperson for Marston’s declined to be quoted, but denied there are any plans to close breweries. This is despite the two companies pointing to £24 million worth of savings said to come from streamlining brewery operations, logistics efficiencies and other reductions in overhead costs.

Marston’s’ pub business is not part of the deal, but written into the agreement is the guarantee of a supply arrangement for Carlsberg brands. This has prompted concern among many small brewers, that they will be squeezed out of the market.

The new business will offer a mix of Carlsberg’s mass-market lagers and Marston’s cask ale brands such as Hobgoblin and Pedigree, and will also be able to feed Carlsberg beers into Marston’s estate of around 1,400 UK pubs.

The Society of Independent Brewers (SIBA, warned the deal could make it harder for independent beer firms to get their beers into pubs. Their chief executive James Calder, said “This merger is the latest in a series of consolidating measures within the UK beer market, and has the potential to impact negatively on small independent brewers by further reducing the access to market they receive.”

Marston’s is the third national cask brewer to have been snapped up by a multinational corporation in barely a year—each time at a discount due to turmoil in the British economy. In January 2019, Asahi bought Fuller’s brewing business for £250 million, while Hong Kong property firm CKA paid £2.7 billion for Greene King’s brewing arm and pub estate last August.

The value of the pound has remained low since June 2016, when the U.K. foolishly voted itself out of the European Union, making these types of  transactions even more attractive to foreign investors. So much for taking back control! The fall in Marston’s share value, following the ongoing fallout from COVID-19, made this merger even more attractive from Carlsberg’s point of view, although they have since surged by 36%.  

Until this deal, Marston’s was the last remaining brewing group of any size, left in UK hands. Now, that honour has apparently passed to those Aberdeen-based upstarts,  Brewdog!