Where the heart is

After the hiccup of the rain last week we’ve had a succession of beautiful clear blue skies, which has meant that the temperatures during the day have climbed to the mid-teens. It’s been a pleasant surprise for me to find, especially compared with Britain, how much heat there is in the sun when it shines at this time of the year - though it hasn’t had much effect on my earth-crusted shoes. I’m still waiting for the mud to solidify so I can break it off.

The morning was particularly fine on Saturday when I took the dogs to the house for their run and to be together at midday (11am in the UK), the time Mar’s funeral service began. We stood on the terrazzo in the gentle warmth of the rolling Le Marche countryside and thought of her and those gathered to say goodbye to this indomitable, compassionate and generous woman. God speed, Mar.

With nothing much to do Sunday should have been a day for a bit of lie in – dogs allowing. In the event, however, it wasn’t the dogs but St Cecilia who scuppered my plans. St Cecilia, if you weren’t aware, is the patron saint of musicians and 29th November is her saint’s day. To mark this, the MSP band marches around the village playing a selection of brass band favourites – though quite why they have to do it at 7am escapes me. Oh well, at least the dogs were pleased to be up and out early doors.

Although the weather has continued to be bright and sunny, you wouldn’t know it from the way the locals have been wrapping up against the elements. Take yesterday: it may have started a little chilly but it was a lovely morning with the car giving an outside temperature of 13C. This didn’t, however, prevent all the office staff at the factory from zipping up their padded jackets to keep out the cold as they sat working at their desks, even though the ‘new’ generator is working fine.

Leaping Luca has obviously been doing his own generating, it would appear, as he has spent two mornings huddled with various people at the far end of no man’s land, wrapped up in his Woolrich coat, outlining his latest master plan. He has an idiosyncratic take on holding meetings, which seems to consist of talking non-stop at people for two hours. When I passed this morning on my way to a comfort break, of the two having to share quality time with him, one looked baffled and the other comatosed as he blithely butted his way forward.

Anyway that, as Victoria Wood’s Kitty said, is by the bypass, for the really important event occurred this afternoon when I managed to drive all the way to Ancona airport without any untoward detours and collect Stephen on his return – not that he spotted me at the airport. He had his eye open for some British looking geezer, when in my newly acquired Italian finery I blended in seamlessly with the natives. If only I didn’t give myself away when I open my mouth. Still, whether he recognized me instantly or not is academic – because all that really matters is that he is home.