New for old

After the success of last week this week started somewhat unpromisingly when there was no sign of either Mirko the plumber or Alessandro the electrician, though the latter did send a text apologising because he was ill. According to Stephen, this means it could be some time before we see him as Italian men, when they are poorly, don’t like to take chances on ruining their recovery by returning to action too quickly.

And talking of men of action, Stephen joined their illustrious throng on Tuesday when he added to the tally vehicles he’s driven since arriving in Italy by taking the factory’s van to Civitanova to pick up the wardrobe we bought on Saturday. That things began tentatively is a bit of an understatement, but once Stephen figured out how to engage reverse we were off. Well, not quite, but maybe it’s customary to take ten minutes to get through the factory gates while the van bucks out of gear and there’s a significant smell of burning rubber. However, when Stephen eventually released the handbrake fully it was full steam for Civitanova – or it would have been if the gear lever had cooperated. Give him his due, though, by the time we were half way to our destination Stephen was driving the van if not quite with aplomb at least without showing the whites of his eyes and gripping the steering wheel as if our lives depended on it. Oh, that’s right – they did.

After all that, the wardrobe was collected safely and the return journey was uneventful, so Stephen deserved his trip to the pub later that night – where I picked up some more work. Giordano, the man who helped us with the paperwork when buying the house, wants to improve his English with some lessons and conversation. Starting next week, therefore, I will have a regular appointment at three o’clock on Tuesday afternoons at his office to further proliferate the use of flat vowels.

Wednesday we were off wardrobe hunting again, this time with much more success – but not till after I did my Good Samaritan bit while walking to the factory with the dogs. I was nearing the school in MSP when I was hailed by a young man from an upstairs window. Well, some of us have it and some don’t, I thought – but then it transpired that he wanted me to go into his (very expensive) car and find his house keys because he was locked in; there’s a first. I said the only thing that occurred to me in Italian, which was to ask where they were. In the car, duh! Anyway I found them and tossed them up to him while he offered profuse thanks. It was only as I walked away that I realised I had, while not recognising every word, managed to understand what he wanted and carry out a conversation. Maybe my language skills are improving – or maybe I just can’t resist helping a pretty face.

In the morning we returned, thanks to subito.it, to the man in Montegrenaro from whom we bought the dining table. This time he took us beyond his basement workshop and through a warren of subterranean passages into the main house, where rooms of fading grandeur with painted ceilings and marble floors were crowded with furniture and domestic paraphernalia of varying ages and conditions. It was like something from Dickens; I fully expected Jean Simmons to appear at any moment with a candle to summon us to drop in on Miss Havisham.

Despite his excitement at such a treasure house, Stephen remembered why we had come and on inspecting the wardrobe we agreed to buy it, paid our money and arranged with the man for its delivery next week. Little did he know, though, that greater things were in store for him later on.

In the afternoon we found ourselves in the rain pulling up outside a large, square sixties building, the left hand side of which had a large sign encouraging us to “Smile” while what looked like rejects from Steptoe’s yard were strewn all around the entrance. Do not, though, let appearances fool you: while the outside and indeed the inside were a tumbling mass of a thousand house clearances there was gold in them there hills.

The first surprise was the owner, Stefano, a former maker of moccasins and known to Stephen from various shoe shows, who ran his empire like a ring master, talking in a mixture of English and Italian and waving his arms expansively – or as expansively as the labyrinthine interior would allow. Stephen was beyond himself with excitement as he clambered rickety stairs and sidestepped precarious amorphous piles; seemingly it has always been his ambition to have such an establishment and wondered if he could get a Saturday job.

In the end, after much scrutiny of the stock, purchases were made and I left, almost as elated as Stephen, with my free gift: a fifties fruit set in crenelated frosted glass like baking cases with transfers of orange roses on them. Wonderful.

Things continued on the upward curve on Thursday when the plumber at last turned up and spent a full day working on the house. By the end of the afternoon he had reattached all of the radiators, fitted the sink, toilet, shower and kitchen tap. This just leaves the bidet for him to complete and then the shower screen when it arrives – so we almost have a bathroom! Not only this, but Franco also arrived to work on the office door and window downstairs and the door onto the terrazzo, fitting the wooden frames and making good the surrounding area. It’s at times like this I think that maybe we will someday be able to move into La Casa dei Due Baffi.

Which brings us today, and the latest of Leaping Luca’s bright ideas. This one is about our road and how we can avoid having to go up and down it. His plan, as he outlined it to me, was that instead of turning right up the steep, scree laden incline, we turn left where Contrada Farone continues down to the river. At the river we take a sharp left across the bottom of Mario and Luigi’s field, into which they have conveniently cut a path, and follow the perimeter of the said field till we come to the house that is about 200m directly opposite us. Here we have access made onto their property so we can exit through their drive. Why hadn’t we thought of that?

There are, though, some drawbacks to all of this. Firstly, while the road is not in the best of repairs leading to our house, after us it becomes something of a dirt track with two major ruts made by tractor wheels. Secondly, half way to the river the track cuts over a significant fissure in the ground that you would need a tractor to negotiate. Thirdly, amenable as Mario and Luigi are, why would they give up part of their arable land that they depend on for income just because we asked nicely? Fourthly, why would our distant neighbours want us driving past their house at various times of the day? Lastly, and most importantly, how is all this going to be funded when Leaping Luca doesn’t actually believe in paying any of the people that work for him?

Mind you, I suppose this lunatic scheme is still better than when he told Stephen we should encase the house in a large atrium to protect us from the elements… though perhaps what we really need is a something to protect us from him.