Wood you believe it

It was all change this week as we have at last got back to what passes for normal life here in LCDDB, but not without a couple of encores to what has been almost three weeks of festivities. Meanwhile, the weather has continued to be glorious – chilly overnight but shimmering blue skies during the day and balmy temperatures in the sunshine. You can’t say fairer than that in October.

Douglas and Susan took their leave of us on Wednesday morning, setting off at 7am for their flight home. They managed to get to Ancona without any hiccups, which is more than can be said for their journey from Stansted to Doncaster, which, due to some inconsiderate lorry driver causing a diversion through Melton Mowbray, took them some nine hours. Douglas has vowed never to eat one of their pork pies again. Before they left, however, we took them, as a thank you, for dinner at Pomod’oro (sic), where you can get a fine selection of antipasti served on an elevated platter resting on a steel wire frame. They returned the compliment the next day by treating us to lunch at Pina – yes, they do do more than cappuccino and brioche.

This is the first time I have eaten lunch there for what must be twelve years or more, when we were visiting Monte San Pietrangeli for a Stefoni wedding. The reason for this is not that the food was so awful but that there was so much of it I am only now starting to feel peckish again. This time was different as, being wise to their tricks, we ordered strategically and remained immune to any blandishments to tempt us to such fripperies as antipasti and stuck to pasta followed by a plate of very fine, thinly sliced roast veal. It was just as well, for when the campofilone with ragu arrived on a large oval platter for Stephen and me there seemed enough to feed not only us but the bevy of workmen who obviously make Pina their go to place for lunch – no doubt because they need to carbohydrate pack for an afternoon of sweaty labour. Douglas and Susan had plumped for spinach and ricotta ravioli, which matched, if not exceeded, our plateful. When Stephen complimented the quality of the food after we’d eaten, we found out that the meat, as well as the tomatoes for the ragu, had been supplied by the twin sons of one branch of the family from their small holding just across the fields from LCDDB. How’s that for reducing your carbon footprint, and another reason why it shouldn’t be another twelve years till my next visit.

And talking of local businesses, I had an appointment later that day with Massimo Mancini, the proprietor of Mancini Pasta, whose factory we can see across the other side of the river from the our house. He wanted to meet to discuss the possibility of English lessons for himself and his office staff, as he is very keen to expand his export trade, which currently runs at 20% of his sales. Whilst we had a very pleasant chat about what I could offer him, I’m not sure that it is actually going to work out as the convenient times for him, business wise, is when I am already committed – which is not surprising really. It would be good if it comes, though off as Sig. Mancini and his staff are all molto simpatici, but I am not sure how much busier I want to become.

As I said, Douglas and Susan left us on Wednesday morning, but it was a quick turnaround as my cousin Rhona and her husband, Ken, arrived at lunchtime for a visit during their extended holiday in Italy. They had been in Venice for a few days before travelling down to Bologna to pick up a hire car to make the journey cross-country to their time-share near Sienna. Before heading west, however, they took the time for a slight detour south for an overnight stay at LCDDB. Although time was limited, especially as I had a lesson in the afternoon, we did find squeeze in a quick visit to Fermo where we admired the buildings, the views and Aperol spritz at Artasylum. After stopping off at home to pick up Bella and Harry, we took our visitors for pasta at the MacIntosh, thinking that it would be quite unlike anywhere else they were likely to dine during their holiday. And so it proved, as I think Rhona and Ken, though they were too polite to say so, were slightly puzzled by the pub, if not by all of Monte San Pietrangeli, what with it not being like anything that would feature in a glossy Chiantishire brochure.

When they left late Thursday morning, it was the first time in over two weeks that we’d been at home and on our own. You would think that there would be a feeling of anti-climax, but strangely there wasn’t. Rather, there was a feeling of completion, that we had done so much and with such enjoyment that rather than feeling empty we – or at least I know I did – felt immense contentment. And who could feel that they were missing something with so many happy memories, thanks to a certain Mr Firth, of this parish.

Speaking of Mr Firth, he had a busy end to his week as the Carellis had a visit from two potential customers from America, a father and son, who were making a flying visit to Italy to see the factory and to discuss possible orders. This is why Stephen set out at 9pm on Thursday to go with Mirko to meet the visitors at Ancona station, returning some time after midnight having deposited them safely in their hotel. He was then AWOL all the next day, but did reappear in time for Friday night pizza before having to set off again after breakfast yesterday morning to deposit the pair at Civitanova station. A busy time but, I think, a promising one.

Friday was brought welcome news to LCDDB in the shape of 30 quintali of firewood, courtesy of Francesco the woodman, who showed up with his truck shortly after lunch. With Stephen being otherwise occupied, it was left to me to accept delivery and make the due recompense. This was actually very easy, for it’s amazing how far you can get by smiling and nodding your head vigorously in response to hastily garbled Italian dialect, and Francesco left happily after having tipped his load out by the side of the garage.

In case you’re not quite up to scratch with your obscure metric quantities, 30 quintali is roughly equivalent, in imperial measurements, to a heck of a lot and a 50% increase on what we have had previously. Stephen upped the quantity as last year and the year before, 20 quintali just saw us through the winter with little to spare, so he thought that it would be a good idea to have a safety net in case this winter is a particularly chilly one. What he did not take into account, however, is just how much wood was going to turn up, especially as the only way to get it into the spare downstairs room that we use as a woodshed is by wheelbarrow by way of the side gate.

You can easily guess, therefore, how we spent a happy two hours after lunch on Saturday, though the time was significantly reduced as Nazzareno appeared shortly after we had started to give us a hand. As my granny used to say, a little bit of help is worth a great deal of pity, and in this case Sig. Carelli gave us a great deal of help. This meant we were able to have all the wood safely gathered in, ere the winter storms begin. Not only that, it also meant we had time, after a quick shower and change, to get to Monte San Pietrangeli to catch the tail end of the celebrations to mark the town breaking away from Fermo and achieving autonomy on 29th September 1537.

Why the Comune had decided to celebrate 15 days after the date is known only to themselves; maybe it has something to do with the change to the Gregorian calendar or maybe because someone forgot to book the keynote speaker in time. Whichever, we decided to forgo the morning’s lecture, which filled the town’s theatre by using that efficient marketing ploy known as get the local schools to bring in their pupils. Instead we opted for the afternoon’s display of flag waving followed by roast chestnuts and vino cotto. As they say: independence? I’ll drink to that.