Running on empty

After last Saturday’s wardrobe change over it was good, finally, to spend the week in shorts and t-shirts – changed daily, of course, I don’t want you to think we hold with any mucky habits. The onset of summer did mean, though, that another student fell by the wayside as Rocco (the barber) decided that the beach was a better place for his day off than hanging around MSP waiting for his English lesson and he and Antonella took their farewells until September.

While it was goodbye to him on Monday, it was hello to our new car, the Bertone Freeclimber 2, which cut quite a dash on Tuesday morning when we went first to the dentist for my stitches to be taken out and then to MSP to do the shopping. Driving around in a quasi-vintage automobile seems to give the impression that we know what we are about, and there definitely is not another car like it. The initial joy, however, started to rub off a little by the time Tuesday afternoon came round.

When we went to pay its road tax in an insurance office in Monte Urano (where we had to ask for Simone, another of Manuel’s contacts) we stopped on the way to put €40 of petrol in the tank. This was in addition to the €20 we had put in the day before, and were a little puzzled as to why what appeared to us to be a not unreasonable amount of fuel had barely shifted the gauge in the car. Not only that, but when Stephen switched on the engine after paying the tax, the needle was actually showing zero, and the needle on the temperature gauge was behaving in a similar way.

As we were already going to Autopompei to pick up the Panda (which we had left the previous evening for its service and Italian version of the MOT when collecting the Freeclimber), Stephen mentioned the vagaries of the petrol and the temperature gauge to the lady at the reception desk who then asked the head mechanic to have a look. He fiddled around a bit under the bonnet and left the motor running, which encouraged the petrol gauge needle to make a feeble attempt to lift itself up a millimetre or two, and told us that we needed to give it a bit of time to register the level of fuel. Following such a comprehensive investigation and incisive diagnosis of the problem, the only thing we could do was say thank you and drive away, me in the Panda and Stephen in the Freeclimber, and you won’t be surprised to learn that by the time Stephen joined me back at LCDDB the petrol was back to an alleged zero. I somehow think this is not the end of the matter.

Fortunately, getting accustomed to the idiosyncrasies of the Freeclimber was the most challenging thing we had to cope with for the rest of the week. On Wednesday we went to the opticians in Corrodonia as we felt it was high time that I got a new pair of prescription sunglasses. I’m not sure how old my current ones are, but I can’t say that they throw things into sharp focus when I wear them on Sunday morning on PSG beach. The optician was as jolly as last time, and despite tempting me with various on trend styles we settled eventually for a pair of classic Ray Bans, because that’s just the sort of guy I am.

Fashion of a sort was also the order of the day on Friday morning when Stephen would have it that my new t-shirt caused a frisson of shock, due to its radical slogan, amongst the old ladies in Pina when we were having breakfast. I’m not convinced, as I think that they don’t look the sort to be fans of RuPaul, and their English is probably not up to a standard where reading, “We’re all born naked and the rest is drag” would carry much weight with them. Still, social revolution has to start somewhere; I just don’t think that somewhere is Pina.

With the temperatures hitting 30C and beyond this weekend, you may be wondering what – if anything – I can suggest to keep cool. I will pass on that, as there is plenty of other advice on the subject, but I will share with you some suggestions as to what not to do: (a) if you see apricots being sold at a bargain price in your local supermarket, it is not a very good idea to yield to the temptation and take them home to make chutney on a boiling Saturday afternoon, and (b) it is just as bad an idea to make a limoncello ciambellone on Sunday afternoon, as the kitchen will still be cooling down from the chutney. The fact that you have the imminent arrival of visitors is no excuse; as Marie Antoinette should have said, “Let them eat some nice little biscotti or a crostata from the local pasticceria instead.”