Once upon a time, an old hotel in the heart of Bucharest town, named Athenee Palace. I used to come here with Mr Grigori Scopelitis from Cyprus, who was one of my dearest business partner. An old fashioned gentleman, who lived his life bying textiles from all over the world. He had a very nice wife, a real lady, speaking french and english as well. He had two girls, not boys unfortunatelly and he was very upset not having a real support for the future business after his retirement. He was also very sad because the only grand daughter they had, was retarded. Such nice people with so big troubles. They were leaving in Nicosia, in a beautifull house, but after some years they have been obliged to sell the house and to replace it with a smaller flat. His wife was calling him Gregoire, french spell.
I remember that when I was visiting them in Cyprus, they were always inviting me for dinner, we were ordering together a tornedo, and sharing it. After the dinner we were visiting their house for coffee and dessert, because Mrs Scopelitis was preparing herself the cakes. Now, Mr Scopelitis passed away since some years ago, already and only nice memories remained.