Snowed under

I made much last week about the fact that here in Le Marche we have proper seasons; little was I to know that this week would emphasise that with a heavy double underlining. Things turned a little dodgy last Sunday evening, when a flurry of sleety snow (or snowy sleet if you prefer) meant that taking Harry and Bella out for their evening necessaries was like walking on a sheet of slush puppie. We never suspected it was about to get worse.

Stephen was due for an early start on Monday morning as he was heading to White in Milan with Nazareno and Mirko for a meeting with a customer. He’d told them beforehand that if the weather was bad he would walk up to the top of the road and meet them there. Undaunted, however, Mirko encouraged his father to drive their small transit van down to LCDDB to pick Stephen up at the appointed time of 5am. Unfortunately, as the temperatures had dropped to below zero overnight, the former slush had frozen and, when they tried to get back up the hill, the van was having none of it. When I got up an hour later at 6, it was to see two sets of taillights making a slow progress up the hill. Stephen had had to go and knock up Mario and Luigi and in suitably grovelling style ask them for help, which they gave with their usual good humour.

Half an hour later, when Stephen and his merry band stopped for breakfast on the way to the autostrada at Civitanova, the patron of the bar threw up his hands in horror and made them clean themselves before he would allow them in. Apparently, whilst the chipping away at the frozen ground to try to get some sort of purchase had had a negligible effect on the van, it had splattered them with a coating of Le Marche’s finest mud - just the sort of look to make a good impression on a customer at a trade show.

Fortunately, by the time I had to head to MSP later that morning there had been a bit of a thaw and I had no problem exiting stage right. However, as the forecast for the late afternoon and evening was far from promising, I left the car (as we had decided the previous day) on the road at the top when I returned from my lesson. And just as well I did too, for the snow started about 4.30 and kept going. By the time Stephen returned just before 9 he had to walk from the main road as there was no way the van was going to manage the snow covered roads – especially after the earlier performance. Nor was there any way that our car, even if it is a Panda 4x4 Cross, would have made it up our road the next day so leaving it up top meant we were able to find out just what good exercise it is to trek up our hill in the snow.

As the main roads had been cleared we were able to get into MSP in the afternoon as I had a couple of lessons and Stephen needed to go to the factory - never mind the fact that my hair was in desperate need of cutting. I thought I’d have to join a long queue of men, having decided they too might as well have their locks shorn seeing as the factories were closed and they had nothing better to do. I shouldn’t have worried as Monte San Pietrangeli was like a ghost town; “They don’t go out when it is cold,” said Rocco. Nor do they make deliveries to the supermarket, as Stephen found out when he popped in for a few basics that we were running low on. There was no milk and no bread to be had, even for ready money, and there were no women either. The few shoppers who had been brave enough to venture out were all men – presumably sent by their wives. It reminds me of the time a few years ago when I was talking to my mum on the phone during a spell of bad weather. She told me it had said on the radio that you should only go out if your journey was absolutely necessary, so she’d sent my dad to the Co-op.

With the weather holding above zero degrees there was a noticeable decrease in the amount of snow lying about on Wednesday morning, so much so that we thought after our trip to town (a lesson for me, a meeting for Stephen) we would take a chance on driving our car back to the house – but we had reckoned without the forces of nature intervening. A little before we were due to set off we were somewhat taken aback when the earth moved. Yes, another earthquake, just when I had almost stopped panicking every time the settee started trembling thanks to Harry scratching himself. This one didn’t last very long so there was no evacuation to the terrazzo, but it was an abrupt jolt, both literally and metaphorically - as were the three others that followed during the course of the next hour and the couple of lesser ones in the afternoon. So much for the misconception that earthquakes only happen in hot weather.

Whilst again there was no damage to LCDDB, one result of the shock became evident when we climbed the hill to the car. What had been clear earlier in the day when Stephen checked was now blocked by a large portion of the banking that had decided to slide down and spread itself across the top of the road by the entrance to Mario and Luigi’s house. There was not a lot we could do there and then, and what with it being too great an undertaking even for Stephen and his wheelbarrow, we continued on to MSP where I went to my lesson and Stephen to his meeting, via a visit to the Comune. They were very understanding and said they would see to it, a promise that they more than lived up to as after lunch a team arrived to start shifting the earth and had it all removed by the time twilight fell. How’s that for service? Apparently, as we found out the next day when we saw one of the workers in the ferramenta, they took away eight truckloads of soil and debris.

We have to give credit to the Comune for acting so quickly, indeed much more quickly than the combined forces of the British and Italian postal services. When he was in town, Stephen, as is the habit, checked our post box and found his Christmas card from me that I had ordered from a well-known online service, which for purposes of this blog we will call lunahog.com. It had been posted airmail on 13th December, so it only took thirty-six days to get here.

As if snow, earthquakes and landslides were not enough for one week, imagine how our hearts sank on Thursday morning when we woke to find that our phone line was kaput – again. We had visions of having to go through another three weeks of protracted dealings with TIM before things were sorted, but started by phoning up and logging the problem with them. The operative at the other end was duly sympathetic and said that hopefully someone would come to see to it by Saturday morning, but he couldn’t promise as they were busy due to the snow. However, when we went into town to see to a couple of things, we found that the problem, for once, was not limited to LCDDB.

Our first stop was the Post Office to see about renewing our post box. If you recall, we had been told last week to return this week when Paolo was back in charge after his holiday. Back he was but unfortunately he dealt us a double-whammy, which left us no further on. When we first went in all the hardware was down (mmm, telephone problems maybe, we thought), then after breakfast in Pina we went back as things seemed to be operating again. This time after some deliberation between Paolo and his assistant, we were told that we should wait until 29th, which was the day it was due, as it would be easier to sort out then. I’m sure this decision was in no way due to Stephen informing them that the Comune had changed the number of the house, from 7 to 20, thereby complicating matters, nor because a queue had started to form behind us. I’m sure it had everything to do with making sure we were given a sterling service – although it was only later that we realised the 29th was a Sunday. Surely not more avoidance tactics?

We then moved on to see Giordano at the Ferramenta as Stephen had, the day before, priced up a chainsaw with him. We were returning to purchase so that Stephen could chop up the various branches brought down by the snow earlier in the week. Oddly enough, though, they too had been having problems with their Internet connection, and indeed when we got home later we found our telephone line back in the land of the living – a relief to all concerned.

And it was a bit later we got home for, like the Post Office, you don’t go to the Ferramenta if you are in a hurry as Giordano is not one to undersell his services. On this occasion he convinced Stephen that he needed a 20m cable to make sure he could use the saw wherever he needed to on the old homestead and then proceeded to make one up. He cut the cable to length then attached the appropriate plugs to either end (breaking one in the process) whilst all the time continuing a conversation with Stephen and the handful of men waiting to be served. It never ceases to fail to amaze me how good naturedly people wait in places like the ferramenta; but then again, maybe they’d be disappointed if they were served quickly and deprived of the opportunity to stand around and chew the fat. It is part of the charm of Monte San Pietrangeli that there are still places to linger and pass the time of day.

Which just about wraps it up. The end of the week saw some clearing of the renegade branches (which even I helped with this morning) though Stephen hit a snag when the chain came off the new chainsaw – which will make Giordano’s day when Stephen takes it back to be sorted next week. I made what has now become my signature ciambella (or ciambellone if you hail for MSP) cake to give to Mario and Luigi as a thank-you for their help on Monday. Mario seemed very pleased with it when we presented it to him this morning, though he hastily took it inside for his wife. Obviously cakes, other than the eating thereof, are the responsibility of the distaff side of Italian families. It may be that the snow has at last just about melted, but you can’t say the same for the entrenched machismo in certain pockets of MSP.