I love Italian cafes. One of my favourites is in Bowness-on-Windermere. The Old Pump House nestles by the lake at the southern end of the town, close to the marina.

When Tess the Collie needs a longer walk, I drive us here. We try for a space in the free public parking by the pitch & put then use the ‘chucker’ to throw her ball (permitted) across the small golf course which climbs steeply, to finish looking down on the town. After this – and with Tess sensing what lies ahead – I get pulled down the hill onto the lake shore, with its Italian cafe – the Old Pump House. The staff make a fuss of her and she gets treats, so she always remembers the way!

The success of The Old Pump House is in my opinion, due to the quality of its coffee… and the views from the jetty behind…

The interior walls have a very 1950’s feel about them because of the arty photos. Many of these are reproductions of what at first appear to be 50’s Italian ‘tin plate’ posters for the great coffee served in that lovely and friendly country. Only later do you notice that many of them also carry subtle humour in their wording.

Complementing these are some equally arty and period pictures of classic scooters of the time.

My mother had an Italian scooter in the late 1960s – a Vespa. As a teenager, I would come home from school, put on her helmet and race it up and down the small interior drive of our bungalow – a journey lasting approximately five seconds.

Two seconds accelerating, one second to savour ten miles per hour, then two more to stop before you hit the garage door. I got very good at emergency stops! And the garage door remained (largely) free from dents…

Occasionally, mum would come out to check that I wasn’t lying on the flags, bleeding. But I never had an accident, and it prepared me well for future two-wheeled adventures. It also annoyed the hell out of the odious woman next door.

My love affair with scooters was brief. Soon, I discovered the more stable motorbike, and from my 16th birthday onwards, rode these more powerful steeds. But my admiration for the styling of the scooter never waned.

But back to scooters… Go to any Italian city and you will see them at their best; parked practically anywhere, and seemingly requiring minimal protective gear on the part of their young and stylishly-dressed Italian riders.

My mother was less fortunate. She had two narrow escapes where she ended up sliding across roads on her back with only her helmet and anorak for protection… minus the scooter which would be inserted into some hedge to mark the bend that she’d missed.

Realising she was a terrible driver, she gave up – and we all heaved a sigh of relief… She lived to be 95 years old, finally leaving us this February. Until recently she still joked about her adventures on ‘Jenny’ – her Vespa scooter.

The Old Pump House takes me back to the happiness of those times. It’s nostalgic but with a self-deprecating smile. The world moves on – its walls seem to say – but here there’s a different rhythm.

I hope this little photo-journey ‘took you back’, too!

Ciao Bella ❤️

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©️Stephen Tanham, 2025.