Gor blimey trousers

The dismal weather that visited us last Sunday afternoon set the tone for the coming week that, in contrast to the same period in the last two years, was dull, wet and occasionally windy, though not particularly cold. Maybe if the temperatures had dropped to the low teens we might have been enjoying some crisp sunshine. We have, though, to be thankful that we were spared the deluges that have hit parts of Italy, and our hearts and prayers go out to those who have suffered such devastation.

The strong winds on Monday morning caused something of a mystery when Stephen returned from the factory shortly before lunch and asked if I had been to collect the umido bin from the top of the road where we have to leave it for collection. For those to whom this sounds in itself a bit of a conundrum, let me give you a quick résumé of refuge collecting in MSP – oh, how I spoil you, my devoted reader. Unlike the UK where, from what I can gather on various news outlets, you are lucky to have a fortnightly collection, here we have a collection of some sort every day, excluding Sundays. These are on a rota system, cycling through paper, plastic, glass and metal, non-recyclable, and umido - all those bits of food waste that in times past would have gone to feed the family pig. Again unlike the UK, our bins (there being several of them) are on the bijou side, the frequent collections pre-empting the need for industrial-size containers, which obviously makes them very light when they are empty. And this is what led to the mystery of the missing bin.

When I answered Stephen’s query in the negative, he immediately jumped to the conclusion that someone had stolen the said bin, which seemed to be a bit extreme. I asked if he was sure, as it was very windy and maybe the bin had been blown away. With this in mind, he went back to the top and returned a few minutes later to say that it hadn’t been stolen after all, but post-emptying it had indeed been picked up by the wind, which had taken it round the corner and deposited it in the storm drain – and would I go back up with him to help him get it. He needed assistance as the bin was too far to reach and he was concerned that in using something to hook it out with he might topple over and be in need of extrication himself. That is why, a few minutes later, armed with a useful garden hoe we could be seen crouching over a storm drain on a windswept corner, prodding about with the end of a long pole to encourage our renegade umido bin to come home, all forgiven. I’m pleased to say that the mission was successful and no clothing was harmed in the process.

How could the rest of the week match up to such excitement? The answer, of course, is it couldn’t. I had a busy time on Wednesday afternoon with back-to-back lessons as my lesson with the Montegranaro children, which seems to be something of a moveable feast at the moment, was switched from Friday. This was because Thursday being 1st November and All Saints’ Day was a public holiday meaning that Friday was ‘il ponte’ (the bridge) and therefore a holiday as well for many schools and businesses. Unfortunately, without wanting to hammer a point, the miserable weather must have adversely affected a lot of people’s plans, especially as Wednesday and Thursday are the days when cemeteries are bedecked with flowers and families visit to remember and celebrate the lives of their dear departed.

Our plans, however, were little affected, having decided to spend the day at home getting on with the odd chore or two. Stephen took the opportunity afforded by the festa to clear out the lotto – apart from a few hardy parsnips battling their way to maturity at the back - ready for its winter hibernation. In doing so, he managed to harvest a decent showing of green tomatoes as well as discover a couple of toads that had taken up residence under the old shutters that serve as duckboards. As he was moving these aside for the duration, the toads, I’m afraid, also had to move on to pastures new – probably, if past evidence is anything to go by, a nearby flowerpot.

The next day we were due a trip to Cuore Adriatico to stock up on various items at the Iper supermarket, particularly Nescafe Gold Blend which was only a few spoonsful away from running out. We had wondered if going was a good idea, with it being the bridge day but thought how busy could it be. The answer was, as we found out, very. The weather must have encouraging people to head for indoors to make their own fun, but even though we had to queue at the checkout it was still pretty small beer for anyone who has experienced a British supermarket on a bank holiday.

Amongst our purchases were two bags of sugar, which Stephen had sneaked into the trolley. He needed them for his latest foray into preserving, as following another Google search he had decided that the best thing to do with the green tomatoes was to make them, like the quince, into jam. No, I’ve never heard of it either. This was, initially at least, slightly less successful than his previous effort, for despite the mixture reaching jam stage on the cooking thermometer, it was decidedly gloopy after cooling in the jars. It was also on the sweet side. Our solution was to give it another boiling, with some more lemon juice added to combat the sweetness and to aid setting, which seems to have worked.

We had time to mess with the jam as with today being again on the inclement side of life we decided against visiting one of the several local chestnut feste and stay and home. Not that that meant we were being totally idle as we did carry out a couple of chores to prepare for any sudden onslaught of frosty weather. The first of these was to move the lemon tree from its sunny spot in the lotto to a more sheltered one under the terrazzo, where, once Stephen has cloaked it in fleece it will be protected against the cold but also, hopefully, get some light. Our other task was to move the wardrobe in the back guest-cum-sitting room to the opposite wall from where it was situated. This is because that wall backs onto the fireplace and can become very toasty when log burning is in full swing, but this heat is absorbed by the wardrobe, with the only beneficiaries being the coats hanging inside it. By moving it to the opposite, outside wall the plan is that this heat will now disperse through the room, keeping it warmer.

This rearrangement was not greeted with universal approval, however, as Harry seemed to be somewhat puzzled by the new positioning of the wardrobe and spent much time for the rest of the day periodically barking at himself in the mirror. I suppose, with it being too damp for him to stand barking by the railings, he had to find other ways to keep himself entertained – though I can’t say we were all that amused by it. Let’s hope he gets used to it before too long – either that or the sun returns so we can turf him out onto the terrazzo and have some peace.