Monique, the love of my life, passed away at 17:00 on the 23 December 2023. This webpage, is not a memorial to her, but is one way for me to re-live our life together.
I met Monique for the first time on the morning of the 5th November 1974, two days after my 23rd birthday.
It was in a laboratory on the Ispra research site of something called the European Commission’s “Joint Research Centre“. Ispra was a village situated on the eastern coast of Lake Maggiore, in the province of Varese (Lombardy, northern Italy).
I took the above photo on that morning. The head of biology department took me to my new office in one of the laboratories, and then left to find Monique. She was the occupant of the other office attached to the laboratory (usually just called a ‘lab’). Whilst waiting I took a few photos of the lab., just before Monique appeared out of nowhere and said hello. I was formally introduced to her, but I must admit I was mesmerised by her French accent, and her wonderful smile. Never had I heard English spoken in such a wonderfully exotic and sexy way.
It was only about 5 years ago, when I started to scan some old photos did I realise that hidden behind the glassware in the laboratory there was the face of Monique. I had taken this photo on the first day I met her. It is one of my most precious possessions.
Above we can see the entrance area to the present day Ispra research centre. The buildings haven’t changed much, although their function might have changed dramatically over the last 40-50 years. Banca Nazionale Del Lavoro is still there, but I think they have moved from the building just next door to their present location. On the left of the main entrance was the healthcare building, and the large building next on the left was the computer centre. Past the (new) roundabout, along via Germania, next on the left were the two buildings of the biology department (the two very small buildings were greenhouses). I met Monique in the building furthest from the road, whilst ‘my lab’ was in the first building.
From London to ...?
I see my early life as having only one objective, to bring me to that lab. in Italy on that morning on the 5 November 1974, so I could fall into those big eyes of Monique. It would have been much easier if someone had told me before hand.
In February-March 1974 it was time to think about a job. That summer I would get my degree in Applied Physics, but what did that mean. In the 70s jobs were not the problem, picking the right one was the challenge. I remember having six interviews, and I retained three for consideration, research in ICL, sales and services for Burroughs Corporation in the city, or logistics for Ford of Europe. In addition I had done my last industrial period with BICC, who also mentioned a job in their R&D labs.
In February 74, my Professor had asked if I would be interested in obtaining a grant to do a PhD in one of the European Commission’s R&D labs. I said yes, gave him my CV, and he presented the application. Then nothing, no acknowledgement, no feedback, absolutely nothing. But I also thought a PhD might be good idea, so I applied and was accepted for a PhD in London on electron microscopy.
Final exams were in May 74, and my thesis had to be presented in June 74, a bit before the final oral exam. In late April I popped into the local employment agency, to ask about summer jobs. I was living in Cockfosters, and they immediately suggested a bus conductor on routes out of Potters Bar (so only about 6 km away). It was perfect, but I had to do a 1-week training just before my exams, and start immediately after exams. I knew I could handle it, the thesis was finished, and my revision notes were all ready. So I did the training, did the final exams, had a last lunchtime drink with my mates on the course, and started on the busses the very next working day. The “curved ball” was that later, my garage boss suggested I join London Transport and aim to become a garage manager (he had also studied physics).
Finally I accepted to do the PhD at Queen Mary, starting in October 74. And then I received a letter from the European Commission telling me I had been accepted for a 3-year European grant for a PhD in a place called Ispra in Italy, started 1st October 74. I spoke to my PhD sponsor in Queen Mary, and asked him what he would do in my situation. He said, go to Italy.
So I went to Ispra in Italy. Firstly, I phoned “someone” in the European Commission to say 1st October 74 was impossible, and we agreed 1st November 74 (they sent a new confirmation). Given there was no mapping software in 1974, and the atlases in the library didn’t have an Ispra in Italy, I asked were it was located physically. They replied that they were in Brussels and had never been there, but it was on Lake Maggiore, near Varese (which is actually a 30 minute drive away).
Fine, next I needed a car. Then pack, and finally, figure out how to drive the 1,300 km that separated Aylesbury from Ispra.
Back in 1973, just after 20 August, I landed in Rome, when the Italian authorities had just declared an outbreak of cholera. I spent a day waiting for a vaccine, then later went on to Naples and Capri. Despite the places being almost totally abandoned by tourists, I enjoyed myself enormously. I just felt that Italy was my kind of place.
Any atlas will show that Varese is nowhere near Rome, Naples or Capri, but it is on a lake. So I would need the “right” kind of car for sunny Italy. Obviously I bought a dune buggy for £200 (with a new MOT). What I didn’t see in the atlas was that Ispra is less than 40 km from the Swiss frontier, and the Alps.
Before leaving I had to make a few modifications. Firstly, given that the car had no heating, I needed some warm clothes, a warm pair of boots, scarf, gloves and a helmet (I almost doubled the amount of clothes I owned). Secondly, there was no glove box, etc., so we (with Dad) replaced the base of the drivers seat with a small wooden box with a padlock. Finally we put a grey painted wooden army ammunition box on the back seat. The back seat bench dropped behind the front seats, and we drilled holes in the fibreglass body to loop a chain and padlock to secure the ammo box on the back bench.
And the guys at the bus depot “found” some wing mirrors and installed them whilst I was out doing my route.
Next, I needed to get ready for the trip. Not a 2-week holiday, but a change of life. And what a change was waiting for me, until then my whole life was in that ammo box, and it was only half-full.
Ispra here I come
The only way I could imagine getting from Aylesbury (my home town) to Ispra was by stopping in youth hostel’s. Firstly, Amiens (night Oct. 28), then Lyon (night Oct. 29). Then a short hop to Geneva (night Oct. 30), and then another short hop to Milan (night Oct. 31).
On the 1st November 74 I picked up a local map in a Milan petrol station. Ispra was not that difficult to find. And I actually drove right past the site’s main entrance.
When I drove back, surprise, surprise, the centre was closed on Friday 1st November 1974. The 1st November is All Saints Day, a public holiday in Italy.
Fortunately one of the guards suggested a hotel in Cadrezzate, about 3 km away.
Monday was for a medical, a photo for an ID card, opening a bank account, etc., and I needed somewhere to live. A local family almost dominated a small village called Barza, about 2 km from the Ispra site main entrance. The family was Zanarella, and one of the family worked in the biology building in the centre. The directions were simple, take Enrico Fermi into the village, right on Leonardo da Vinci, right again on Via Michelangelo, and it was first on the right. The only real challenge was to understand that both Leonardo da Vinci and Michelangelo were dirt tracks.
Above, my car is parked outside the house where I had my first digs. I had the first room on the right, and there were four bedrooms, two on each floor, with a bathroom on each floor. That week was a holiday week, so the house was empty. The following week, I found I was sharing the bathroom with a girl in the other bedroom on the ground floor. She would later marry a young Dutch researcher working on the accelerator in the research centre. When Monique learned that I shared a bathroom with a girl, she was unimpressed to say the least.
Life was simple. The room had a bed, a bedside table, a small table and chair, and a set of draws. Later Monique would complain that my underwear was not properly folded in the top draw. Even today I still fold my underwear.
As I arrived at the house, two people arrived in the house across the road (track), introduced themselves as working in the centre, and suggested a pizza that evening. Later, one of those men would work with me as a nuclear inspector in Luxembourg, before returning again to work in Ispra.
Monday was a day of firsts, I learned that my monthly grant would be 129,100 lira. I had absolutely no idea what that meant, and if I could survive on that for a month. Also it would be the first time I had eaten a pizza, and one of the few times I had eaten in a real restaurant (even if it was a pizzeria). Back in England, I had never eaten anything Italian, and on my summer vacation in 1973 my diet had been most Italian ice cream.
The pizza was great, and a pizza, beer and an ice cream cost well under a 1,000 lira. Later I would learn that the room cost 18,000 per month. So with 129,100 lira per month, I was rich.
The most important day of my life
I will always remember the many, many great moments spent with my parents, with my sister, the appearance of Jonathan, my younger brother, like a late Christmas present, the day I got my degree, and many other important moments, but the day I first saw Monique tops that list.
When I was standing in the lab. and Monique suddenly appeared in front of me I was speechless. She was so superb, so exotic, I couldn’t say anything sensible. Fortunately the head of the biology department arrived back and made the introductions. Monique’s English, spoken softly with a French accent was so romantic, so feminine, so charming. And she had a smile to die for. In particularly when she repeated my name several times, Geoffrey, to understand how to pronounce it, I was on a slippery slope. I still remember backing into my little office feeling like an idiot.
Monique finally settled on Geoffrei, and she never ever used the abbreviation Geof, Jef, etc., and she always lengthen the ending, al la Geoffreiiii. Whenever she spoke my name, I could never say No.
Over the years I’ve been able to isolate some of the impressions I left at that moment. She thought I was physically big and powerful looking, but very softly spoken, and I pronounced very clearly, making it easy to understand my English. She was shocked (and I think impressed) that I had simply turned up to live in Italy, despite not speaking a word of Italian. She was also impressed by my car, which she had actually seen on the Monday. But she also thought only a mad Englishman would drive a car like that in winter. My presence just confirmed her suspicions.
And she thought I did not smell very nice. I had used an aftershave called Brut by Faberge, which had a spicy, sweet, citrus aroma. She truly did not like that, and thought it was quite funny that someone would actually wear such a smelly aftershave. When we got to know each other a little better, she threw my Brut in the bin, and gave me a new aftershave.
Above we have Monique. I took this photo at the departments 1976 Christmas dinner, so we were already together.
Below is a passport photo of me more or less as I turned up in Ispra on the 5th November 1974. I might have trimmed the moustache.
I could never imagine that a woman like Monique would “fall” for me. I never did anything that might have been “misconstrued”. At the same time I couldn’t get her out of my mind, her smile, her sexy accent, her fantastic beauty (in my eyes), and her friendly, easy-going character. And she always wore a fantastic perfume. To me she was perfection on earth, but totally unattainable (and being chased by at least two different men in the research centre).
I’ve never understood why she picked me, and she never told me.
And yes, beard and aftershave. Until going to Italy, my student appearance was largely conditioned by a beard, longish hair, and clothes bought from the Army and Navy Surplus. Going to Italy I had lashed out on a second-hand leather jacket and a new pair of jeans. It was my first jacket and it just reinforced the fact that I hated the idea of shirts, ties and jackets. And even with a beard I did have to shave some bits, here and there. I had never used aftershave, but I saw Brut as a symbol of my new life in Italy. It was quite a shock when the first thing Monique did was throw it out. I thought Fabergé was French, but Monique knew better.
Maybe that moment defined my life with Monique. She rarely insisted on something or said No, but when she did, I listened. My life was all about predicting the future, and avoiding the “No”. Since the 23 December 2023 I have no one to tell me No.
