File under I am not sure where, but here is part of retelling of an affair between Germaine Greer and Fellini from many years ago (as written by her):
Within hours I was writing to Fellini that he couldn't reduce the Marquise du Chatelet to a huge-breasted nurse for the senile Rousseau. His response was to come to see me in my tiny house in the Montanare di Cortona. A big blue Mercedes appeared at the top of my steep, rocky road. Fellini got out and calmly sent the driver away till next morning. We talked all afternoon about the concept of the film, to some purpose, I flatter myself, even though Federico continued to watch me as I spoke, even whistling between his teeth from time to time, as if he wasn't listening. I would have made supper, but Federico was even more fussy and valetudinarian than your average Italian man, and insisted on making himself risotto bianco with only a single leaf of basil to flavour it. He was already on beta-blockers and drank no wine at all. There was never any question of his sleeping anywhere but in the big bed with me, but he was horrified to find that I slept with all the windows open. He changed into the brown silk pyjamas with cream piping that he had brought in his little overnight bag, and hung his clothes up carefully for the next day. Every couple of hours he made a quick call to his wife Giulietta, back home in their apartment on the Via Margutta.
This is interesting stuff - hysterical that Fellini cooked for himself! There is more here from the Guardian.