Busy doing nothing

I won’t be taking up too much of your time with this blog as the past week has been without anything of particular note. There have, though, been signs that the seasons may, at last, be changing, not least because we have been passing olive trees festooned with tarps. These, as I have mentioned before, are designed to catch the fruit as it is encouraged to fall from the trees by the strange articulated rakes, modelled on a blunted Edward Scissorhands.

I did, however, have a busy start to the week as Monday afternoon saw the first of my lessons with Lorella’s two children, Lucia and Michele, and the two sons of her friend, Romina, Lorenzo and Federico. Despite some uncertainty as to how things might pan out, what with the group being outside my usual demographic - Michele, aged 7, knows only his colours and his numbers - it went well. The children seemed to enjoy the lesson, particularly being able to cut the worksheets to size and stick them in their notebooks - which for some reason are slightly smaller than A4 size. Never underestimate the power of stationery where pupils are concerned; as Victoria Wood once said – when she was a teenager she didn’t want a boyfriend, she just wanted a 14-colour biro.

Tuesday saw Stephen off gallivanting again with Manuel. This time they headed northwest to the Verona area to visit a factory Stephen used to deal with in the past and introduce his bff to them, displaying his array of leathers and soles in the process. They have obviously, between them, worked up a slick double act as they were back in MSP before 5pm, even managing to squeeze in a stop for lunch on the return journey. And very successful it was too, or so I am led to believe.

The rest of the week was taken up with some work, some domestic matters and some necessary chores. Wednesday morning was devoted to the dentist, which meant a late lunch and a light one, as chewing is not that easy with half a numbed mouth. After that it was business as usual till today when the rains returned. For the first time since September, grey clouds congregated in the sky until, in the early afternoon, there were enough of them to bring rain and a drop in temperatures. And what does one do when it rains? Why, go shopping of course, which we did this afternoon.

Apparently, according to my personal stylist, my current jeans have not only seen better days but are no longer alla moda, which is why we went in search of replacements. A profitable trawl of Porto San Giorgio resulted in two pairs of jeans, a pair of cords (in for this season, I am told), two shirts, a sleeveless jumper, a baggy cardigan/jacket affair and five t-shirts (plain, for wearing as an extra layer of warmth). After all that exertion - trying things on; taking them off; handing them through the changing cubicle curtain in exchange for whatever else Stephen had been able to scavenge on the shop floor - there was really only one viable restorative: tea and cake at Le Petite. Shopping and eating - it almost makes you wish it would rain every Sunday.