Celebrating in style

OK, let’s cut to the chase: no, we do not yet have a phone line. Despite hopes being raised at various points during the week, albeit in a tempered manner, we are no further forward than at this point last week. Actually, that may not be quite true, for whilst there has been no change in the efficacy of our cable connection at least we know more about the prevarication – and some might say mendacity - of TIM.

As Monday, as well as being Stephen’s birthday, was a public holiday, there was no point in seeing how things were progressing with the supposed problem with the main service box. It was during this period that I found out as well that the MSP ‘free Wi-Fi’ was something else that failed to live up to what it said on the box. I had joined the network on Friday while waiting for the Passion play to start and had used it a couple of times to check emails and so on whilst passing through the centre. However, on Tuesday morning over breakfast in Pina when I tried to use it again, my screen informed me that I had exceeded my allotted usage. So much for this great new addition to the community, which seems to be of use only to passing visitors rather than a handy facility for locals.

It was also on Tuesday morning, when Manuel, our go-between, called TIM that we were told they were waiting for a part (?) and that it would all be fixed by the next day. It wasn’t. We did find out from Marco, though, in the afternoon that his service was back up and running and that he had been told by the engineer that ours was taking longer because we live outside the town. Yep, it must really challenge the phone network to ensure a stable connection to a house two kilometres from the town square. Mind you, it wasn’t all good news for Marco as he also discovered that his connection had been fine for several days and that the problem lay with his modem. Could the engineer give him a new one, the silly boy asked. No, he couldn’t do that, what Marco would have to do, he explained, was to pack up his modem, post it to Vodafone (see, it’s not just TIM) and when it was received they would send him a replacement. As of the time of writing, as they say, Marco is still waiting.

Stephen, to give him his due, showed great persistence and phoned TIM on Wednesday and Thursday. He might just have well found a handy wall and started bashing his head against it. On both occasions the operatives exclaimed surprise at the case still being open, sympathized and said they would send an urgent message to the tecnico. One tends to think, given the efficiency of TIMs communications, they’d have been better using carrier pigeon because the electronic messages appear not to have arrived as neither hide nor hair were seen of this mythical figure.

Throwing ourselves once more on the kindness of Manuel, he phoned again on our behalf on Friday morning and after the usual patter from the operative insisted that they give him the number to contact the tecnico directly. They were unable to do so, but did tell him the number of the Technical Service office – who expressed great surprise that there was still a problem and that the case was still open. Well they obviously have their fingers on the pulse then, don’t they. They also said that we had been contacted the day before, though I’m not sure how, maybe by semaphore, as nothing rang on my mobile nor on the house phone. Oh but that’s right, it doesn’t work. Anyway, they said that someone would come to look at it ‘tomorrow’, but whilst Saturday came and went, ‘tomorrow’ obviously didn’t as again no one appeared This now leaves us in a quandary: what do we do when no one that we speak to actually seems to care about the situation or be able/willing to do anything about it?

Anyway, to happier things.

Monday, as I said, was Stephen’s birthday and after a bit of a wet night we set off after breakfast and morning ablutions to one of our favourite places, Porto Recanati. It was certainly a case of sunshine after the rain for when we arrived at the town the sky was blue, the sun was shining and a stroll along the lungomare a very pleasant interlude indeed. The weather, though, had caused a bit of a schism amongst the many Italians present where sartorial choices were concerned. A good proportion were still sticking to the scarf and padded jacket, what with it being only the middle of April still, whilst elsewhere there was a breakout of t-shirts and shorts. We even spotted a man sitting at a beachside table in one of the chalets without his shirt on, but we presumed he must be foreign; that would be a step too far for even the most rebellious of Italians.

Rather than walk back down the promenade, Stephen having a feeling in his waters as, following his suggestion, we cut through the back way onto the main shopping street where we came across an hitherto undiscovered (by us) clothing store. This proved to be a profitable find as he came away with a pair of trousers, a polo shirt and two his and his scarves, one in green (‘Very military,’ said the owner, a lady who in her flowing robes and lacy bustier was definitely putting more forward for Captain Benwick’s notice) and one in red. A perusal of the food market selling local produce, a one off for Easter Monday, and an aperitivo in Gelateria Giorgio finished a perfect morning.

In the evening, after tea at Marco and Maddalena’s (just something simple, she said, a few light bites) we at last managed to get to see MSP’s answer to ‘Harry Potter and the Cursed Child’, ‘Un Natale Diverso’ at the town’s newly refurbished theatre. The performance was due to start at 9.00pm, but we knew that was never going to happen, especially when all the people in front of us collecting their tickets at the box office turned round and headed out in search of one for the tonsils. In the event the production started at 9.40, and what’s forty minutes between friends. As expected, I understood very little of the dialogue, which was fast and in dialect, but there was enough enjoyment in watching people perform and the action was visual enough for me to get an idea of the thrust of the story. There was much laughter during the performance and afterwards the cast received rapturous applause at the curtain call from an audience who left the theatre happy, chatty and smiling.

Later in the week our thoughts turned to domiciliary matters, and more precisely, windows and doors. Having sorted this aspect of the west wing before we moved into LCDDB, the area that needed the most urgent attention, we thought it time we investigated upgrading the rest of the building. While the windows and doors elsewhere in the house are not in a dreadful state, they have definitely seen better days and there are one or two draughty spots - and one leaky one - that it would be better being without during future winter months. We therefore headed to Tolentino on Thursday afternoon to Folusci Infissi, who carried out the work previously. There we spent a happy couple of hours with the wonderful Simona, who demonstrated a remarkable ability to recall us from our last visit and to remember what we had ordered, as well as a remarkably cheery disposition while we inspected the showroom models and she answered Stephen’s many questions as to the feasibility of his elegant variations to them.

With alarming efficiency, it was the next afternoon that Paolo arrived from Folusci to carry out the measuring up. As there are sixteen windows, three french windows, two front doors (one up, one down), and two internal doors required you will understand why it took him well over an hour and a half to complete the task – all done with the utmost good humour. Before you start thinking that we have had a win on the lottery – other than the 2 euro I got on a scratch card the other week – I should make it clear that we’re not planning on doing all the work in one fell swoop. Rather, if we have a clear estimate as to the cost of the different elements we can, depending on the vagaries of the fluctuating pound and Brexit negotiations, draw up a timetable for the stages of its completion.

And so to the weekend.

After a quiet Saturday, pottering, this afternoon we thought we would take Bella and Harry out for a trip to the seaside, as it is a while since they have been for an outing. We avoided the nearer spots, which might, on a bright afternoon, have been a tad busy and headed forty minutes down the coast to Ponte Nina, where we knew that dogs are allowed on the shingly section of the beach. It was a glorious afternoon, with clear blue skies and a light breeze, and Harry in particular was very excited by the new and different smells. The beach was very quiet, with just a handful of fellow walkers, some with dogs, and a couple of hardy souls sunbathing in the sheltered dunes (if you can call them that when they are pebbly and not sandy). Afterwards, we stopped on the way back for an ice cream from Café Concetti in Pedaso. We ate it sitting in the square by the church in the sunshine with Bella and Harry seeming well satisfied with their afternoon out – as, indeed, were we.