I am at a party at a bauhaus-style clifftop palazzo on the adriatic(?). Fabulous fashionable women go down to the beach and sit around a fire. I try to follow, but I have this big, brimming cylinder of champagne to carry down, and the staircase is precipitous and disintegrating beneath my feet. Carved into the exquisite white marble of the cliffs, enormous porcine faces  look discontentedly out to sea…