At last. I've polished off the last of the limoncello.

His Nibs is at his mum's this weekend so I'm 'home alone' tonight and yes, that deafening noise you hear in the background is Shack singing Miles Apart.(I would put a link through to youtube for you but the vid skips around like there's no tomorrow and no one should get frustrated by such sublime, swooping lyricism).

I've just enjoyed a fine tea of pasta with an anchovy, courgette, red onion and cream sauce and for pudding - the last of the limoncello. It's Italian, shut up! Well I say the last, half a large martini glass to be fair - and that's more than a couple of fingers, I guess.

That bottle came back from Verona, oh two years ago, and it's been knocking about the fridge ever since. Making friends with bottles of gin that have come and gone... wondering why no one looked twice at it. Poor Limoncello wallflower.

Yet sitting out in Verona's main square cafe, listening to Duran Duran sing Hungry Like the Wolf from an outdoor concert in the nearby coliseum, it tasted like nectar.

Back in Blighty. Tastes like alcoholic lemony sugar-goo.

Why is it local alcoholic drinks just don't travel like they should? What's lurking on your drinks cabinet?