Gardyloo

A bit of a busy week what with work, the house and life in general – if only there were more to show for it than a hole in the floor.

Monday started the week as we hoped it would go on with a welcome rise in temperature to match the clear blue skies, which prompted a return to Bar Chupito bar in the campeggio for one for the tonsils before dinner. Well, you have make the most of these late summer gifts as there will be enough time to batten down the hatches come winter.

Before that, however, I had my first lesson with my new students, the double act that is Rocco and Vittorio. Rocco, as you may remember, is the village barber but those that have long memories will also know that visions of booster seats, “Anything for the weekend, sir?” and those frosted glass sterilising cases (which I never saw anything either go into or come out of) are far from the reality of his urbanly moda salon – almost as urbanely moda as he is. (See what I did there?)

Vittorio, of the flashing smile and with charm enough to spare, modestly calls himself a bartender but his mother actually owns the Bar Corradini just round the corner from the Stefoni household. He is the brains behind Chupito, as well as other events to call the converted to his establishment.

The remit for the lessons is to improve their spoken English so that they can communicate in a more relaxed and fluent way when on holiday – and I don’t mean with the waiters. Both have a basic grasp of the language but need to improve their ability to structure sentences and be more confident in listening. The afternoon was great fun; it was like being back at school teaching Year 10 and having to keep your wits about you to stay one step ahead of the savvy lads sitting at the back.

Being savvy was something that went out of the window on Tuesday when Stephen caused confusion with misplaced consonants. I mentioned in my last blog that we had seen some of the Italian X-Factor; what we didn’t see as we missed the start was the first hopeful who, it transpires, is a cousin of Giovanni’s (Elsa’s husband and Flavia’s son-in-law). Given the media obsessed world in which we live, it’s not surprising that, with only four degrees of separation between us and Simon Cowell, Stephen should take an interest in the performance – especially as it was hailed unanimously by the panel.

The confusion came when he tried to tell Flavia and the others about it at lunchtime – but due to the substitution of a ‘c’ for a ‘g’ he gave them the impression that Giovanni’s kitchen had been on X-Factor. No wonder they looked puzzled till light dawned and it was explained that in fact it was his ‘cugino’ and not his ‘cucina’ that is destined for stardom (you will also notice that Stephen has no truck for distinguishing between masculine and feminine endings). What is also confusing but which also supports my theory about the paucity of male Christian names in Italy is that Giovanni’s cousin is also called Giovanni. It is, seemingly, a tradition in his family for the men to be called either that or Luigi and for the women to be called Marzia – as his daughter is. There is, I suppose, an advantage of economy – it must make calling the family to dinner so much easier.

Wednesday afternoon we made a mercy dash to the Girasole shopping centre as the printer was refusing to do just that as it had run out of black ink. This was quite critical as it was supposed to be spewing out resources for my EFL lessons. While we were there we popped into Euronics to check out their selection of televisions, as we need to buy one for our snug at the new house. I don’t know if you have purchased a TV recently, but how confusing has it become since the last time we bought one? Foolishly I thought it would be just a matter of size (isn’t everything?) but no – do we want flat or curved, smart, LED or android? And what exactly is the difference between one that costs €2000 and another looking virtually the same but costing only €500? We pottered and pondered and came to the decision that we need to come back with someone who actually has a clue.

There was a good result from the trip though, as we left the centre with a collection of induction friendly pans. This had been a slight concern to us as, having bought the hob because of its sleek look and easy to cleanness, we then feared that all the pans we possessed wouldn’t work. The arbitrary solution was to designate them for the summer kitchen and buy new for our one upstairs – but so many we looked at did not have the curly wire symbol showing they were induction friendly. This shop, however, had them by the bucketful – and not only that but they were all on offer. How happy were we, clutching our two bagsful, as we almost skipped to the car – although Stephen is still disappointed we can’t have one of those cheap aluminium pasta pans that are a prerequisite of every Italian mama’s cucina.

Following a quick phone call on Thursday, we were pleased to see the plumber appear on Friday to get on with the first part of his work on the bathroom while we went hunting for a table – or rather checking out a table that Stephen had located on Subito.it, his current favourite site.

The table is needed for our new kitchen/dining room as neither of the ones in storage is suitable, being too large and, more importantly, not in keeping with Stephen’s vision. We want a round one in white, but being unable to find a new one that (a) we like and (b) costs less than €1000 we have decided to upcycle a ‘vintage’ pedestal table by sorting out the cracks and the wobble and painting it white.

The table itself has come from a cellar in Monte San Giusto – not a cellar to keep the coal but the vaulted stone bowels of a large old house on one of the main streets in the town. Here, random pieces of old furniture were piled on top of one another, apparently waiting restoration – which was pretty crucial for a wardrobe that took our fancy but which, when we opened it, had no back.

The man in charge was most amenable, and seemingly knows England and Manchester well as he often goes there on buying trips, and he and his assistant were very helpful in manhandling the table into the back of Remo’s Fiat van, which we had borrowed. At least they were able to manhandle it after Stephen reversed the van the wrong way (but facing the right way, obviously) up a one way street for, with his usual cavalier approach to driving, he’d said as we passed the building, “That looks like the picture on Google Maps,” then continued on for 100 metres before parking. What larks.

When we returned, the plumber had done sterling work laying lots of new pipes in floors and walls and creating a large hole in the corner of the bathroom floor, which, I have complete faith, is there for some reason other than providing a diverting view from the summer kitchen below.