Signed, sealed, delivered...eventually

The sudden upswing in demand for my services as an English teacher hit another high on Monday when I received a text from our friend, Samuele, saying that a friend of his was interested in lessons and could he call round to discuss it with me. I replied that I was free that afternoon until 5.30 or on Wednesday after 3.30, whereupon Samuele messaged back saying he would pass the information on to Sauro, his friend.

Being Italy, there was no further indication as to when Sauro might turn up, but I didn’t have to wait long as I had just settled down in the workroom after lunch when a large, black hatchback pulled up outside. Sauro was either very keen or very un-Italian as he hadn’t left it a couple of months to follow up the enquiry, and after a quick chat it was agreed that he would return the next morning for an initial lesson and then start twice weekly sessions next week. And if proof that it is indeed a small world were needed, he turned out to be a sort of former neighbour, his in-laws living next door to the Stefoni house where we first lived when we came to MSP, with he, his wife and daughter being frequent visitors.

He has a reasonable smattering of English, albeit it a bit ragged, grammar-wise, but his reasons for wanting to improve became clear when he returned the next morning. He works for BMW as a driving instructor for their racing team and as well as being able to, in his words, tell people to ‘push the accelerator’ he also needs to network more effectively and to feel more confident when addressing a group of people. I think he is also looking for something to do as the winter months, he said, are pretty quiet in his line of work so he has plenty of time on his hands once he has taken his daughter to school and spent some quality time with his young son, a new arrival since we left the Stefonis’.

In the afternoon I had my first lesson at the Helen Doron English Centre (as I noticed it said over the door) with Silvia, who was very jolly and enthusiastic. Again, she has a fair command of English and needs to polish and develop it so she can help her husband with his oil business. She actually works in a bank, but wants to be able to assist her husband when he is dealing with foreign customers, especially when he is at a trade fair, as at the moment he has to employ an interpreter. Understandably, when you are a small, family business, any opportunity to cut overheads has to be a good thing.

It wasn’t all work on Tuesday, though, as we took delivery of our new log basket (where would we be without Amazon). Ever since we moved into LCDDB, Stephen has been using a couple of galvanised buckets to carry the wood from the downstairs’ storage up to the fireplace, and whilst these have had a certain industrial charm I couldn’t help thinking that there might be something with a more rustic, if not indeed warmer, appearance. Hence the new basket, which does look to advantage by the fireplace and with more than enough capacity to store a day’s supply of firewood. As for the buckets, they are still in daily use, to ferry ashes down and bring the wood back, but other than that they have been banished from sight.

Thursday saw my third new student starting, when Gloria, the daughter from the Dry Cleaners was dropped off by her mother. Despite my qualms that I would have to face a truculent teenager, resentful at having to do extra lessons of a subject she hated, Gloria was utterly delightful and smiley, very eager to respond and with a good knowledge of English. I think it says something about her character that even though she dislikes the teacher and, hence, the subject, she still achieves high marks and was more than happy to continue with the one-to-one sessions. I’ll just have to make sure I don’t make it any worse…

After we dropped Gloria back at the shop, it was time for Bella’s third visit to the vet’s to check up on how her eye was doing. I’m pleased to say that both he and Chiara were pleased with the progress and, whilst we were given yet another lot of eye drops, they said that as long as we were happy with things there wouldn’t be any need for them to see her again. The wound has reduced significantly and another week or so should see it gone altogether. Bella continues to be most accommodating when it comes to having the medication applied, and doesn’t baulk when I pull open her eyelid and Stephen drops the liquid in. Maybe the knowledge that it’s followed by a treat helps, though I’m not sure why Harry deserves one too as all he does is stand and watch.

Yesterday was a public holiday, being the Feast of the Immaculate Conception, celebrated in Fermo by its 32nd Fiera di Natale where an abundance of market stalls augmented the seasonal wooden huts clustered in the Piazza di Popolo. A spot of shopping was followed by a tour of the presepi exhibition. This was as wonderful as we have come to expect, with the obligatory nativity scene made from pasta (with a fabulous camel) as well as one crocheted in white thread and another intricately moulded out of clay. We had planned to treat ourselves to aperitivo at Art Asylum, but when we saw that there seemed to be some sort of children’s party going on (Fermo is the nearest we get to the sophisticated cosmopolitan lifestyle) we decided instead to hasten to Totò.

We were pleased to see that our friend, Massimo, after having been absent for some time, was back in charge, meaning that the place looked resplendent with an excess of panettoni and other festive treats. Never ones to take much persuasion, we left with some very fine frustingo (a local sweetmeat of dried fruit and nuts) and a coffee and chocolate panettone, the former for eating now and the latter for Christmas. And yes, we can delay that pleasure.

That was it for the weekend, apart from a quick trip to Monte San Giusto to collect a parcel from a tabaccheria there, which should have been a simple exercise but we are in Italy. The reason we had to collect it from MSG was my fault, as when I ordered it I forgot to change the delivery address to the Carellis’ factory, our default depot but when I received an email from UPS saying the parcel was due on Friday, it offered the facility to change where it would be delivered.

Thinking I might be able to alter our address for the Carellis’ I clicked on the link, but rather than a page explaining the options it actually took me to one showing local pickup points, one of which I had to choose as I had, by going to the link, committed myself to changing the destination of the parcel. Well, we thought, going ten minutes to Monte San Giusto was better than missing the delivery and having to chase it to Civitanova. Besides, we also thought, if we went on Sunday morning we could combine it with a pre-lunch gargle at Pineta – and when we eventually managed to do so, we felt we had truly earned it.

Having checked the address and the picture of the tabaccheria that UPS helpfully supplied, we were then somewhat puzzled not to be able to find it despite walking up and down the street. This was not helped by the numbers running out at 34, while we were looking for 36. We asked a nice elderly gentleman if he knew where the shop was and he directed us into the main square, where there was indeed a shop, but its number (chalked on the wall) was 26 and besides looking nothing like the picture of the tabaccheria it was also closed for refurbishment. While we stood dithering, the elderly gentleman strolled into the square for a pre-lunch chat with his chums who were congregating near the bar, and when we asked him again he said that this was the place and he went up and banged on the door.

After a few moments the door opened a sliver and a man peeped out looking very distrustful. The nice gentleman explained why we were there, with Stephen filling in important missing details while I produced my carta d’identita. The email from UPS had said that all I needed was proof of identification, but the man looked even more suspicious and asked did we have a printed sheet. I did wonder what the odds were of a couple of random Englishman knocking on his closed-for-business shop door and asking for a UPS parcel in the name of Webster on the off-chance that they might strike lucky, but fortunately he seemed to accept we were genuine and went off to get the parcel.

When he returned, he ripped off the polythene-protected documents on the front, which I always thought were for the customer, while asking Stephen if we had come yesterday as they were closed. He then opened up a sheet, gave me a pen and asked me to sign it, which proved another hiccup as the pen didn’t work. Fortunately, I always carry a couple in my bag, so with a quick flourish the parcel was ours. The shopkeeper went back to knocking his shop about, the nice man went back to chewing the fat with his chums and we went to the bar where a glass of Prosecco proved that despite frequent evidence to the contrary, there are some things that Italians are able to get right.