L'angolo conviviale

For those of you who were unaware of the fact, the autumn equinox took place on Sunday 23rd September at 03.54, Central European Time. I mention this not to show off my knowledge of trivia, but because it seems to have presaged a distinct change in climate.

Last Sunday, if you recall, we were able to eat lunch al fresco in short-sleeved shirts, but it was a different story come Monday afternoon when the temperatures dropped and rain set in. Although this was followed by a cloudy and chilly Tuesday, by Wednesday clear blue skies had returned for the rest of the week. There had, however, been a climatic shift, for whilst it was still very pleasant indeed in the sunshine, the air had a definite autumnal edge making a jacket necessary for the first time for several months.

This wasn’t the case for Stephen, however, who reported that temperatures in Milan were still hot whether in or out of the sun. He was there for his second visit in as many weeks, this time for Linea Pelle, leaving from Civitanova station on Monday morning after another early morning drop off. Not that it wasn’t without incident, for when he boarded the train he discovered that somehow he had booked a second-class seat rather than a first class one. Whilst this was not necessarily the end of the world, the problem was exacerbated by his ticket being for seat 93 in coach 3, when the seats in coach 3 only went up to 64. There were several other passengers, mainly imperious women of a certain age, who were in the same situation, and who used their elbows to good effect to push to the front of the queue to speak to the capotreno first. On this occasion, being self-effacing worked in Stephen’s favour, as when the conductor got to him, he explained – in English – that they had switched trains first thing that morning and would he (Stephen) like to go and sit in first class instead. As it says in Matthew 20: the last will be first, the first will be last.

As for Douglas and Susan, they made the most of the sun returning on Wednesday to spend a day in Porto San Giorgio and then in Macerata on Thursday. They had to take things a little easier, though, as Douglas was somewhat the worse for wear on Tuesday when he had to spend the day at home and was still recovering over the next couple of days. I don’t want to cast aspersions unduly, but Stephen and I can’t help thinking this is all Susan’s fault.

As Monday was on the wet and grey side, she and Douglas decided to go into Civitanova to Cuore Adriatico, and if things perked up they could then walk along the lungamare. Things didn’t really perk up, but this didn’t dissuade Susan from frog marching Douglas out of the shopping centre to OVS, at least a kilometre away, despite there being no pavement and having to cross the busy dual carriageway serving the entry to the autostrada, and then back again. If they had taken the car, as Douglas had tentatively suggested, he might not have ended up with a streaming cold or legs (he had been wearing shorts) covered with pustules (apologies to the more squeamish amongst you). We hoped that these were the result of brushing against indeterminate vegetation on his hike as otherwise, coupled with his cold, his symptoms suggested he might somehow have caught monkey fever.

While all this was going on, Rocco, the barber, began his lessons again, with a switch from Monday morning to after lunch on Wednesday. He was also joined by two other people, his erstwhile learning companion, Vittorio (of Bar Corradini) and Antonella, an Italian teacher living in Magliano and a regular at the bar. They had decided that it would be a good idea to have a joint lesson to improve their spoken English, which fitted in with my feeling that what Rocco has needed for a while now is more opportunity to put his English into practice other than when he is on holiday. I just hope that Antonella will be a moderating influence, as whilst Rocco on his own is thoughtful and cultured, from previous experience I know that when he gets together with Vittorio it can be like dealing with naughty schoolboys.

Stephen returned from Milan on Thursday and we took the opportunity of having to pick him up in Civitanova as an excuse to eat out again. Not that we hadn’t managed that earlier in the week, for Douglas and Susan had been kind enough to make sure that I was eating properly, firstly by seeing to dinner on Monday evening as I was busy with lessons, and on Tuesday taking me for pasta at the pub – Douglas manfully pretending that he was not suffering from some rare tropical disease. It was appropriate that we had chosen to eat at Mandì on Thursday evening as it turned out to be a year to the day (according to Douglas’s Facebook feed) since he and Susan had discovered it, for which we will be eternally grateful. Susan showed somewhat less gratitude towards Stephen when she discovered that amidst the sultry city heat of Milan he had booked a table outside. She seemed to feel that a late evening temperature in the mid-teens was not conducive to digestion, so whilst I went to meet Stephen at the station, she and Douglas went off to Mandì where she managed, with only a modicum of disruption, to get a table inside. If only she showed such forethought where her husband is concerned…

Friday was their last full day in MSP, so they invited us to join them in what has now become a ritual for them when they visit: lunch at Pina. You might think they had saved this till the end of the week so that Stephen was available, but really I believe it’s because they knew that they’d get enough to eat to sustain them on the long journey home the next day, and probably into the next week as well. We weren’t disappointed when we assembled downstairs in what is more like someone’s front parlour packed with tables than a hotel dining room. As ever, Susan was conspicuous by being, apart from staff, the only woman present, but this caused barely a flicker amongst the various workmen grouped together, which just goes to show how far equality has got in small town Le Marche.

As for the food, the tagliatelle with ragù was as equally good as the slices of roast veal and baked artichoke hearts. Susan was most taken with the peas, prompting debate as to how they had been cooked – which was, according to the sister who runs the kitchen, in a pan with a little water and seasoning, and then left to keep warm. We’re not fooled, though, as there must be some other form of Pina magic that turns ostensibly ordinary ingredients into something wonderful

It then came time to wave our visitors away as they left on Saturday morning for their morning fight from Ancona, leaving us to a quiet weekend after all the coming and going of the previous ten days. And Susan and Douglas were not the only visitors to take their leave, for whilst we were doing our chores this morning, Stephen happened to see, once again, the gecko that had taken up residence in our hearth. He (or she, we are not up on the gender distinctions of lesser reptiles) was lazing him (or her) self at the front just of the grate just behind the door, no doubt digesting a breakfast of handy insects.

In a pincer movement that would have pleased Julius Caesar, I held onto Bella’s collar while Stephen opened the door, causing the gecko to fall onto the dog bed behind Bella’s back, who remained oblivious to what was happening the whole time. With lightning reflexes, I pulled her off the blanket while Stephen wrapped up the gecko, carried it outside and released it onto the terrazzo where it scurried away. I do hope it managed to find alternative accommodation, as with October just round the corner and the promise of evenings of log fires, remaining ensconced in our grate would have given it a housewarming of a sort it might not have really appreciated.