Nori, the friend of a lifetime of my mother. They met in junior high school in Milan, quickly became best friends, and never lost touch through the vicissitudes of life. In fact, theirs seemed one of those bonds that somehow become stronger with distance and time. So in time we, the children, could also share the treasure of Nori’s company. Vacations in the mountains, and then the yearly rite of Nori’s visit to my mom, for at least two weeks in spring or autumn. First when we were still at home, and then, little by little, as we moved out, with my mom and my father only; further on, as my father passed away, just my mom. I always wondered what these two old young ladies were talking about, but I do know that after so many years, talk they did, for hours. Two ladies of another generation, so different in many respects, but so obviously and movingly tied to each other in a way that defies definition (for one, Nori was the inveterate atheist, my mom a deeply religious Catholic who never apparently managed to make inroads into Nori’s (un)beliefs despite periodic attempts, that Noti bore with great patience). As kids and then young men, we were always looking forward to Nori’s visit: she was witty, very clever of course, intellectually curious, knowledgeable, well informed, inquisitive, indifferent to conventions she did not agree with - and yet so humane. A breath of fresh air in an Italian family, especially in an era without Internet. But then again, when Internet came, she was well ahead of us in using it ….. But most of all, she was that fascinating blend of an hyper-rational but very genuine person: opinionated, but full of empathy for everyone. She was an icon not just for our immediate family: all of my mom’s relatives would always ask about that lady from Albion that was so British for us, and yet so very Italian still. That courageous lady that had left Italy alone to pursue a career as a scientist, at a time when few Italian women would even go to university. The courageous lady who would move from city to city, from employment to employment, and even go to Israel for a year, at a time when for us Italians these things were the stuff of legend. Nori the scientist who, more than forty years ago, knitted for each of us four boys a Scottish jumper, much admired by our classmates, that I wore for years, and that I still cherish. And then a few years later, just for me, a blue jumper with white motifs …. perhaps the jumper that I loved best in my lifetime, and that I still have. And then, only a year ago, that quilt … that amazing quilt, so full of colours and life. They could no longer travel to visit each other, but Nori had it delivered to my mom for her birthday, as a surprise. Since that day, my mom has never separated from it, a sort of Linus’ blanket. Now spending her time mostly on an armchair, covered in blankets, my mom wants Nori’s quilt always to be the last one on top of all the others, and every time she would say: “have you seen it? This is Nori’s quilt”. Roberto