I am reminiscing. One of our first dates many moons ago. When we were young. We went to Presto, an Italian pasta place in Soho London. It's no longer there and I have no photos but believe me it was one of those wonderful cheap eatery places in London similar to the Polo Bar in Old Compton Street, and many other Italian cafes and restaurants, 'a peculiarly British tradition', according to the writer Joseph Conrad. All formica tabletops and affordable grub with that orange hue that threatens to come back in fashion, you watch. Mr van de Ven was in love and to tell me in that moment of awkwardness he said he thought I was very pretty. Instead of accepting the compliment I asked, 'so you are saying I'm ugly'. He was confused and later told me that he really thought I was pretty but my warped sense of incomprehension and lack of indulgence made him love me even more.