Hallow, hallow, hallow...

I can start off by putting your collective minds at rest and assuring you that Remo’s glue did the trick and all letters were in place yesterday morning when I went to the cemetery to offer my assistance and to pick up Stephen who had gone earlier with Flavia. The reason I didn’t accompany them in her car? There was no room for both me, Stephen and the enormous plant she’d bought, which I think was called Audrey*.

I know All Saints’ Day (or All Hallows’ if you prefer) is important here in Italy but I hadn’t quite realise how important. I found out when not only did I have to queue to get into the cemetery car park but I then had to circle it looking for an empty spot before joining a steady flow of people, all carrying great armsful** of flowers and plants of various sizes and genera but predominantly white, heading into the cemetery.

Inside there was an air of purposeful but muted activity, with lots of old ladies in flat shoes and windcheaters shimmying up ladders to polish marble and arrange flowers. Why up ladders? Because Italian cemeteries are quite different from their British counterparts: here there is a central area with gravel paths and family plots which is surrounded on all four sides by a sort of necropolitan filing cabinet four or five levels high where coffins are placed head first before being sealed with a marble label.

Fortunately, the Stefoni monument was one in the central area so neither Flavia nor Stephen had to risk life, limb or footwear. Very spruce it looked as well as I arrived just in time to see the final touches being put in place by Flavia while another lady, who I think was a sort of overseer to check that everywhere came up to scratch, hosed off any stray foliage.

Duties completed and after a short stop at the ferramenta to pick up Stephen's new toy (a high pressure something or other that will be very good for lots of things, seemingly) we had a quick jaunt to the house, where Alessandro the electrician had erected an aerial so we can at least watch something when we move it – even it’s just La Prova del Cuoco (the Italian take on Ready, Steady, Cook that makes the British programme seem like Masterchef ). As with all aerials, it looks somewhat incongruous on an older building but needs must. At least it is aerial shaped and therefore not as obtrusive as a parabolic dish.

In the afternoon we returned to the house for the usual clearing and cleaning, and had a surprise visit from Marco and Maddalena, who were suitably impressed and used the work ‘bello’ a lot. Then it was to the McIntosh for date night amidst a plethora of pumpkins that Teresa had used to bedeck the pub in honour of Hallowe’en. – Don’t worry though, she hadn’t spent long hours whittling faces and converting the pulp into soup as they were all made from non-organic material.

Today was more house, with Stephen sanding doors, painting and scurrying around like a DIY dervish while I casually flicked a duster here and there, so you can see I thoroughly deserved aperativo time at Bar Contadini where I discovered that prosecco rosa is like prosecco bianco only better. Lobby your local Tesco to get it in stock. There may just be enough time before Christmas, though maybe not enough shelf space as by now, no doubt, they’ll be filling up with Easter eggs.

*A pat on the back to any film/musical buff who got the reference without looking it up.

**A further pat on the back to anyone who knows that this is the archaic form and the modern plural is armfuls, but I’m an old-fashioned sort of a guy.