Going, going, gone.

For the past seven months since we arrived in Monte San Pietrangeli, this blog and Stephen and I have all been obsessed with house matters. First finding one, then buying one and then getting it ready to move into. Becoming actually resident in La Casa dei Due Baffi has caused an implosion in subject matter, leaving this shining star in danger of becoming a black hole. How’s that for an extended metaphor?

Fortunately, for both my readers, after a few mundane days of establishing a proper routine (cleaning, washing, shopping, lessons, etc.) the cycle was broken on Thursday morning when I saw Stephen walking down the road sometime around 10 o’clock. He had finally had enough of the Fred Karno antics that firstly RemRom and then MKP have inexorably degenerated into and walked out of the factory never to return. Not that he made a fuss about it – and even if he had, it still wouldn’t have registered on Leaping Luca’s radar – he just packed his bag and said goodbye to the circus.

That didn’t, however, stop Samuel and then Elsa phoning up within twenty minutes asking if he could go back and sort out something or other. I suppose the Italians are so used to people shouting, arguing and storming out then returning five minutes later as though nothing has happened that they must have thought Stephen would be back after a quick cuppa. The difference here is that he didn’t shout, argue or storm, he just left, before LL’s inept machinations eroded any remaining credibility he still has within the shoe industry.

At some point someone must have realised that it was reasonably serious as LL himself arrived, just as I was tying up my bootlaces ready to go and ferry Irene, my student, down our hill. I thought Stephen was at the front of the house doing stuff, but obviously he wasn’t as, receiving no reply to his chipper hallooing of Stephen’s name, LL took it upon himself to come upstairs, ring the door bell and, unabashed, walk straight in; or rather he tried. Having clocked him through the window I got to the door as he was opening it where I came over all Maggie Smith, and in my best Dowager Countess of Grantham voice used word like ‘How dare you’ and ‘uninvited’. Judging from his hasty departure, I think I got the message across.

This does mean, of course, that we will now have nowhere to go on Christmas Eve. Stephen had already, before the final straw hit his back, declined Flavia’s invitation to join the Stefonis at their festive meal, so we will be dining à deux. At least I won’t have to sit through another meal not eating seafood, though I’m sure the dried salt cod would have been delicious.

As for anyone concerned about how we will manage financially – don’t be. As I’ve mentioned previously, LL doesn’t actually believe in paying anyone who works for him so we won’t be any worse off. In fact, the future is looking decidedly rosier, as now Stephen may actually be able to find some employment where, for the first time in several years, not only does his boss value him but he actually gets money rather than excuses as a stipend.

Not that Thursday was all about work, as we did have our first dinner guest in the shape of Computer Luca, a charmingly affable antidote to his bilious namesake. He brought us a delightful metallic gold teddy bear as a Christmas present, something sparking in a bottle and bucketsful of warmth and friendship.

And as for the silver lining, the events of yesterday now mean that Stephen has free time on his hands, which is good news for LCDDB. He’s been able today to sort through some more boxes and find, amongst other things, lots of ornaments, allowing him to set about the set decoration of the snug with gusto. Your loss, LL, is our gain – and we know how to appreciate him too.