Take wing

To address the mystery hanging over from the last blog first, we popped into the post office on Tuesday to ask Paola about why our mail was being delivered to our redundant box rather than our casella in the square, which evoked much surprise on his part. That shouldn’t be happening, and maybe it was because the regular post woman was off ill and her relief replacement didn’t know otherwise, he offered. Despite asking in Stephen’s best Italian, he still said that we had to wait till the 7th to sign and pay for the official transfer. This we did on Friday morning before breakfast at Pina, it only taking about 20 minutes – long enough for the baker who must have dropped in to make a quick transaction while on his delivery round to decide to sit down while he was waiting.

I had a bit of a surprise on Monday morning when I received a text from Helen Doron Learning Studio asking if I was ok to start my series of lessons with the workers at the business in Civitanova on Friday. Well, no, as not only had we already planned out our work for the week and Stephen needed the car that day, but I also felt that I needed some more information such as where it was, how may people there would be and their level of English, and what I was actually expected to do with them. I did get an e-mail later asking me for a copy of my resume to send to the lady organising the course, which I was able to cobble together and send off on Tuesday morning.

This obviously got to where it was intended, as on Thursday I had a telephone call from the lady herself, Marina, who wanted further information, viz. my codice fiscale and my email address. This latter she used to request that I send her a copy of my official documents, so I obliged with scanned images of my carta d’identita which I had handy. I have to say that I was a little perturbed by all this, as it all seems far too official for my liking and not at all like the usual casual approach that I have grown to love in my short but glittering career in Italy. It was also on Thursday that I met the owner of the factory, who was at Helen Doron while her young daughter was having a lesson. We were introduced and shook hands, and at least some progress was made as it was agreed that the my lesson at the factory would be from 12.00 – 13.00; this being another piece of information that had, up till then, not been forthcoming.

As my workload continued to expand, Stephen was also busy as the factory geared up for MICAM; yes, it is that time of year again, as it so often seems to be. This necessitated his absence from LCDDB for substantial periods of time during the week to firefight and to have his expert, considered opinion called upon and then ignored. While there were few ramifications of this for life at LCDDB, I was thrown into a slight quandary on Wednesday afternoon when I took the dogs for their afternoon walk and passed a somewhat bewildered portly bird on the steps. Fortunately, Harry and Bella showed scant interest in the little mite, who in turn made no reaction to our passing but just squatted like a derelict Christmas decoration. It was still there when we returned, though it had managed to shuffle a little nearer the rise of the step.

I assumed that it had ended up there after flying into the snug window, as had happened a couple of days previously. On that occasion the misguided bird had flown away immediately, while this one remained stunned. Fighting off images of it toppling helplessly onto its side while gasping its last breaths, I took the only course open and phoned Stephen. We thought about moving it into the garden or to the front of the house, but then it could become a sitting target for any passing cat (cue even more sensational images) and could it survive the shock of being handled? We decided that as with most things that side of life, the best thing would be to leave it till Stephen got home.

I couldn’t settle, however, and after making a coffee I went out to have another check on our casualty, only to find it wasn’t there. Anyone passing would have wondered why I was on my hands and knees examining every step, and indeed in the rational part of my brain I was wondering myself why I thought the bird might be playing hide and seek. In the end, I more or less satisfied myself that it had recovered sufficiently to fly away, which meant I could rest easy again – once I had gone into the snug, opened the window and pulled down the zanzare screen. It may be somewhat early to take this measure against wayward insects, but if it saves me (and God’s more defenceless creatures) from further trauma, I am willing to ride the derision.

The rest of the week might have been anticlimactic, had it not been for my lesson with Massimo on Friday morning. He took me on a tour of the factory, following the process of pasta manufacture from semolina store to shipping, and explaining it all in English. It was absolutely fascinating, especially how he has married modern technology with the traditional method of making pasta to create a product that has integrity as opposed to the big manufacturers who put speed and quantity ahead of flavour and quality. And he also sent a box home for Stephen, who was most envious at missing out on the experience.

As for him, after a busy week with the Carellis, he had a chance to put his feet up yesterday morning when he took the 8 o’clock slow train to Milan for MICAM, which started today. As usual, I provided an early morning taxi service, and after heading back to MSP for my Saturday lesson with Mr Mancini, the weekend was all mine to do as I wished. Well, not quite as I wished. With the prospect of fifteen lessons next week I did have to spend some time sorting out my plans and materials, though this task was made more tolerable by the gloriously sunny but chilly weather that has settled over MSP, and as we know, the sun always shines on the righteous.