A change is as good as a rest

Yes, a whole week since the last post so what can have caused the hiatus? The short and very far from interesting answer is that the past week has been full of stuff – not very exciting stuff but necessary stuff and stuff that has edged our plans for moving into La Casa dei Due Baffi a bit closer. So in the interest of keeping the world at large up to date with what is happening in downtown MSP, here we go.

Monday it was out with the old and in with the new as our super duper new Ariston boiler was installed by Andrea and his trusty sidekick. We are immensely pleased with this for a variety of reasons, but key amongst them are: it is smaller and neater; it will take far less energy (we hope) to keep us snug in the winter; it has an outside thermostat to adjust the capacity at which the boiler works and it has a space age (to hicks like us) control that lights up blue! Andrea also installed a new radiator for us in what will be the dressing room. The one in situ was below the window that overlooks the terrazzo, which is the one we want to make into a door. He has removed the existing radiator and replaced it with a sophisticated tall and narrow one on the wall next to it. This does have a downside however, as the old cast iron radiator is now supine in the middle of the floor until we find the means to hoist it up and get it out of the room.

Whilst all this was going on, as is his wont, Luca of the factory turned up, obviously to have a nosy to see what was going on and to get a look at the house as he has not, so far, had a personal invitation to view it. Seemingly, when he arrived, he walked into the middle of the central room and, without saying a word, jumped up and down several times. Maybe this is some strange local tradition to bring good fortune to a new house but more likely it was his way of finding out whether or not it was structurally secure. If only Halifax knew about him it would save an awful lot of time in the selling/buying process. Who needs a surveyor when you can call in Leaping Luca? After all, if it withstands his weight it should hold out against most other natural disasters too.

There was one minor catastrophe though, and that was when the man from Ariston, who has to come and certify the boiler is safe, tried to leave at the end of the day – and what we have been fearing happened. Being too tentative, he didn’t give his van full throttle from the get go and consequently trickled to a standstill part way up the incline. What to do in a moment like this? Why, call on Mario and his tractor of course. Stephen had to drag him away from his tea, but with unfailing good cheer he hooked up the van and a few good chug-chugs saw man and motor safely on their way. We are seriously thinking about installing an emergency line from our house to Mario’s, so he can play Batman to our Commissioner Gordon. He may want to disconnect it at meal times though, and I’m not sure where he stands on Lycra.

Monday was also the last night of the Beer Festival, which finished with a comedy group. We popped along to watch for a while with Marco, Maddalena and a large proportion of MSP’s cognoscenti and the group was obviously a crowd pleaser as all those gathered laughed with gusto. However, as 99.9% went right over my head we stayed long enough not to offend then headed to the trendy café for a gin and tonic, knowing anybody who is anybody in MSP would be at the car park. At least with it being a comedy group, we didn’t have to worry about thumping bass tracks till the early hours, just the noise of people shouting goodbyes and starting car engines.

Tuesday morning saw us return to Dream Ceramics and the stylish lady with the lovely things. They were just as lovely the second time around and so we sat down to chat – well, she and Stephen chatted, I sat and listened as best I could and nodded sagely at what I thought were opportune moments. It looked like we could do a deal but some things still needed to be costed and sorted out, so Stephen returned on Wednesday to finalise things. The upshot is that a deposit has been paid, the relevant items have been reserved for us or ordered and a provisional starting date of 2nd September has been set. The actual work should take about twenty days, which fits in with our idea of moving in at the end of September, should all go to plan.

Wednesday was also the day when the mystery of the missing shoe was, if not solved, at least concluded to Stephen’s satisfaction.

A few days ago, Harry was sitting on the sofa in our ‘lounge’ with one of Stephen’s beloved woven blue and white beach shoes (€20, the last pair to be had in the sale) beside him. I rescued it before he could do any damage and put it back with its pair – or rather I didn’t, as the other was nowhere to be seen. No matter how fine a toothcomb we used to search our rooms, no sign of it could be found. Surely he couldn’t have eaten a whole shoe? And if he had there would have been some crumbs left. It was, as I said, a mystery. Then today, I walked into the lounge and there on the sofa were Harry and a woven blue and white beach shoe. As before I retrieved it and took it away, only this time there was the partner where it had been left days before. At first I thought Stephen had found the missing one, but he hadn’t. Harry had obviously tired of our pathetic attempt at hide and seek and given up waiting for us to find it. Where he stowed his ill gotten gains we still have no idea, but at least he was good enough to bring the shoe out into the open again.

This brings us to the weekend, which has consisted of a bit of being a lumberjack (but we’re okay) and shocking the culinary world.

I had my first view of the new boiler yesterday, and as these things go it is a lovely object - but to show how easily pleased I am, the best thing is that the thermostat control panel shows the outside temperature. How wonderful is that? There was a slight delay to its unveiling, as Stephen had to call in at the factory on the way (well it is the first day of the holidays, what can you expect?) and then go back because he couldn’t find the house keys. Those of you who have had past dealings with him will be aware that this is not an uncommon occurrence; there is something in his DNA that clicks to ‘Abort’ whenever a key is within sniffing distance.

In the afternoon we went on a recce to see what could be had in the way of fencing and gates – the answer being not much, at least at Self, a DIY store up Corridonia way. It was all right if you wanted to buy a bolt but anything more exotic like wire fencing was too much of a big ask.

Today we were at the house in the afternoon, where Stephen released his lumbersexual side and chopped down (ok, sawed) two trees at the back of the house. We had decided they had to go for not only would they block the path of our intended fence but they were also too close to the gas tank. Mind you, when I say trees, don’t think redwoods; these were on a much smaller scale. They did, however, put up a bit of a fight – though my advice for anyone planning on a similar course of action is: don’t buy the cheapest saw in the shop.

We also had a visit from Luca, the computer expert, who had not yet seen the house. He was suitably impressed but feared, what with us being in the countryside and not far from a river, for his and our safety at the hands of the swarms of mosquitoes which he is convinced are going to descend on us in hordes. He did actually use the word ‘tragedy’ in all seriousness to describe the threat and I fully expected him at any moment to fling up his arms and say, “Woe, woe and thrice woe.” Well, we have been warned.

This evening we were all taken for pizza by Pierot to Il Priore, a pizzeria by the roundabout in Campiglione. One thing I have learned about food in Italy is that you cannot judge the quality of the product by the look of the establishment. Just because somewhere looks like a small local eatery that could do with a revamp doesn’t mean it doesn’t serve great food, as is the case here. The place was spotlessly clean and the staff efficient and friendly, but fixtures and fittings were basic and dated (the décor consisted partly of a frieze of local beauties dressed in mediaeval garb, who are probably grandmothers by now). However, the pizze were fabulous – wonderfully thin and crisp – and the crude pale beer, which came in jugs filled from taps at the side of the room, was refreshingly sour and pétillant. (Pretentious? Moi?)

And so what was the culinary shock in such an unprepossessing establishment? It was when, after we had browsed the menus and the orders were being given, I asked for one (the name of which escapes me) and there was a moment of surprised silence followed by several sharp intakes of breath. No one had heard of that pizza before – and when I say no one I mean the Stefoni family because obviously lots of other people had as it was on the menu. But judge for yourself – is pizza bianca with peppers, sliced tomato and cheese really the stuff to shake the foundations of Italian society? I think not.