Far attenzione!

It seems that we have turned a meteorological corner, with a string of fine days featuring blue skies and sunshine. Although there was still a pervasive chill in the air at the start of the week, a couple of hours of blustery winds on Friday afternoon marked a change to more clement conditions. Thus it was that Stephen reinstated the fly screen on the kitchen door yesterday morning and Bella and Harry have started taking a siesta in their beds, it being too hot for them on the terrazzo, which is in the full glare of the afternoon sun.

As for us, matters automotive dominated the early part of the week, beginning on Monday with Stephen missing by moments the big talking point in MSP. He had only been gone a few moments from Manuel’s house when the latter heard a loud crash and an ensuing commotion in the street outside. Such is his faith in my beloved’s driving skills he immediately thought that Stephen had had an accident. However, when he went out to investigate he found that it wasn’t Stephen, but Anto, a local man whose advanced age is belied the intense blackness of his hair. Apparently, Anto (short of Antonio) had got out of his car, forgetting to put on his handbrake. The car rolled away, making a stately progress down the narrow street with a panicking Anto in moderately warm pursuit. The car’s progress was halted when it ran into the corner of the Post Office, which was just as well as if it had passed that building it would have been in the open sea of the town square, which is usually crowded with parked cars. As for Anto, his progress also came to an abrupt halt when his desperate – and some might say, ungainly – chase ended with him tumbling into the road.

When we saw him the next morning in Pina he seemed remarkably sanguine about the whole business – apart from the impending repair costs to his car. He had taken a knock to the head in his fall but there were no visible signs of injury and he had given the all clear by the hospital. The Post Office as well seemed to have come off unscathed, with the car impacting against the brickwork rather than the large metal grills that cover the windows. It is, though, a salutary lesson to us all to double check that we have everything firmly secured that should be secure.

The following day we pursued our own car business when we popped over to the driving school for Stephen to collect his temporary Italian driving licence and for us to check up on the progress of my permanent one. Unsurprisingly, of the latter there was no sign and the nice lady behind the desk didn’t seem to be all that optimistic that it would be here before I left for the UK. Could we, then, asked Stephen, have another temporary one issued as, if you recall, my current one expires midway through my stay. With the usual Italian equanimity over such matters, she said there was no need for that as, though it said it was valid for thirty days, it would be good for longer than that. To prove it, she took my temporary licence and changed the circle her colleague had made round the number thirty when she gave me the document into a large figure six. She then added a smaller zero and handed it back, obviously believing that that fixed the problem. Let’s hope the car rental company agrees with her…

Earlier on Tuesday we had a surprise visit from Giordano, who had phoned to ask if he could come down to see us about a translation he had had to do. When he arrived it was not, as I had expected, from Italian into English but the other way round. Well, I say English, but the documents in question had come from a rural district of Bangladesh and featured a particularly imaginative use of the English language. We were, though, able to make sense of the somewhat confusing syntax and arrive at what we hoped was a reasonable interpretation of them in Italian. We also hope that they prove of help to his case for preventing the threatened deportation of the young man in question, who far from being an indolent immigrant has a job in the nearby town of Monte Urano, which, as there is no bus service, means he has to walk seven miles there and seven back every day.

There were developments on my work front as well when I received a call from a chap enquiring about English lessons for a small group of three or four children. This wasn’t quite as out of the blue as it seems as before Christmas I had given my student, Lorella, one of my cards to pass on to an acquaintance of hers who had asked her about the said lessons. As both my regular readers will know, three months is a fairly modest lead time by Italian standards, and the wait was more than made up for by Piero’s charm (and excellent English) when he called. It was agreed that I would drive over to see his wife on Friday afternoon, who would meet us at a nearby petrol station to guide us to their house as it was a bit difficult to locate. Taking Stephen with me, for support and translation purposes, we duly met up with Daniella and followed her to the house, which, like ours, was hidden in a hollow down a steep track, though that, unlike ours, was in good repair. After a brief discussion it was agreed that I would take the small group, comprising Daniella’s daughter and her two nephews, on a Friday evening from 5.30 to 7.00. It would have been earlier but one of the boys, Filippo, has basketball practice mid-afternoon.

The rest of our time has been taken up with domestic matters. Thursday we went northwest for a spot of shopping. We came home with paint, a new outside storage chest (the previous one having lost a door when it was blown over in by a winter wind), a new foam squeegee for the terrazzo (Stephen broke the last one when he got carried away brushing rain water), two new rugs for the side of the bed and eighteen drinking glasses (six water, six wine for everyday, six wine for everyday guests). I know this latter might sound a tad excessive but they are needed due to wear and tear on our old ones. We have, though, agreed not to put the new ones in the dishwasher in the hope of preventing chipping and clouding.

Today Stephen has been busy titivating the ceilings in the bedroom and bathroom, which have been displaying traces of mould – which, given by its prominence in advertising, is a general problem in Italy. We don’t actually have that much of an issue with it, and Stephen thinks that it is not so much due to damp but to the fact that the attic above these rooms (which is only accessible through a door floating in the gable end wall) was used for hanging salami and prosciutti, and is the result of the lingering spores from their maturation. Whatever the cause, he did a fine job, though not without my help. I was given the very important task of holding the ladder steady as he manoeuvred it around the bijou space that is our bathroom. The previous time he did this operation was during my last visit to the UK and the precarious positioning of the stepladder lead to him taking a tumble. Fortunately, no harm occurred to life, limb or expensive fittings but obviously he learned his lesson. Hopefully, Anto, too, will be wiser after the event – after all, MSP can only stand so much excitement.