One of my 2011 texts is Leopold von Sacher-Masoch's Venus in Furs. Quite a groundbreaking little read in its day. I had this slim volume and one final night of solace to enjoy, and thought there could be little better than spending it amongst brocade, velvet and candlelight. So just before midnight I careened through wet and empty streets to my gilt and guilty haunt to be enticed by La Caterina. Sometimes it is obviously the right place.