Wishy washy

The week began with a return, a change of routine and some business hanging over from the previous one. The return saw me travelling over to Montegranaro as Marzia and Diego restarted their lessons after the summer break. I was not certain if they would continue, now that they have moved up to the liceo where travel time is longer and the work more demanding. Daniela, Marzia’s mother, however, was keen for the lessons to continue – and assured me so were the ragazzi. As for the change, that was Alessio swapping from Saturday morning to Tuesday as his work schedule had altered, which was fine by me as it means that currently I have a three-day weekend.

The unfinished business was twofold. Firstly there was the non-functioning washing machine and secondly there was the mystery of what the super Mogliani brothers were wanting to do with the sapling. Taking the second one first, Stephen saw them on his way back from the Carellis and apparently they want to prune the top of it and another a little further up the banking to encourage outward growth. Why they want to do this rather than remove them is a bit puzzling to us, for if the trees spread out they will hamper the brothers’ access to the barn when they drive their tractor along the top of the banking. Still, as we know from previous experience, they know best.

It was whilst Stephen was at the Carellis that progress, of a sort, was made with the washing machine. When he told them about the problem and that he was going to phone Samsung when he got home, they immediately said that he didn’t need to do that as they knew a man who was an expert on all types of washers. In fact, they said, Stephen knew him too for whilst his business is now in Montegiorgio, he, along with a workmate, used to have the electrical shop in the village. Whilst Stephen couldn’t bring him to mind, he was happy to go along with their recommendation so they duly phoned the man, told him the problem and the make of the machine and he said he would be over on Wednesday, though he wasn’t able to specify the time.

In the event, when Wednesday came around the man didn’t. He did phone Stephen in the morning, who was at the factory, as he needed, he said, to know what the model was. This struck Stephen as a little odd as he had been told this on Monday. What was odder still was his alarm at being told (again) it was a Samsung. ‘Oh no,’ he said, ‘I don’t touch them. You need to phone Samsung.’ Which is exactly what we were going to do on Monday before we were assured that the engineer was very good and did all models. Consequently, when he came home and before we ate lunch, Stephen contacted the service line and the helpful lady said that our nearest Samsung approved engineer was in Montegranaro and they would be in contact.

This delay didn’t help with the amount of washing piling up in the basket, and with no clear indication when the machine would be fixed Stephen spent a happy hour or so on Thursday morning at the laundrette, getting there early to avoid the rush and so he could be at the factory not long past his usual time. He might, though, have saved himself the bother as it was while he was travelling back from the factory mid-morning that the man from Montegranaro phoned. I took his number and when Stephen arrived back not long afterwards he called him. The engineer said he would be with us shortly and Stephen arranged to meet him and bring him down in the Panda, not knowing what sort of vehicle he would be driving and if he knew the way to the house.

The answer to the latter turned out to be no, because the nice lady at Samsung had managed to write down a fictitious address with scant resemblance to our actual one, though thankfully she did get the telephone number and the town correct. Apparently it happens all the time, the engineer said, when Stephen was driving him to the house, “…as they are in Romania.” Once here, the washing machine was mended within minutes, the engineer having the foresight to bring the relevant part as, he said, with our particular model it is usually one of two things that go wrong. In this case it was the sensor that recognises that the door is closed properly. The reason this often goes awry, he said, was due to power surges due to things such as lightning – not an infrequent occurrence here at LCDDB. He said that to avoid them we should unplug the washing machine when not in use, but there again, he said, plugging it in every time you used it was just as bad. Heads we lose, tails we lose, it would seem, but at least now we wouldn’t have to wash our dirty linen in public.

Whilst I don’t want to appear either arrogant or needy, almost a week on from my birthday it was still on my mind as I was missing a (small) number of cards that I had expected to receive, most prominently from my mum and dad. I know they had sent one as Mum had told me a couple of times that it had been posted in good time. There being no sign of it again in our designated post box in the square, we stopped at the box at the top of the road to see if someone (likely culprit the mad woman from Torre San Patrizio, the one that drove her post van into Mario and Luigi’s field when she ignored our sign saying not to deliver to the house) had posted the card(s) there instead of in the square.

Sure enough, Mum and Dad’s card was there, as well as four others, only slightly damp from the recent rain but not, on this occasion, nibbled at. What was a little more surprising was that there was also a printout saying there was a parcel waiting for collection at the post office in MSP, surprising because the notice was for someone called Jean Marc Didier who lives at via Forone 37. Well, one out of three ain’t bad, I suppose, and it’s a comfort of a sort to know that the wayward postie doesn’t only lavish her singular service on us.

It was also on Friday but in the evening that we went to have a word with Giordano, the notaio and my erstwhile student, about taking steps to get an Italian passport. I admit that we might appear to have left it a little late, what with the dreaded 31stOctober date for leaving the EU coming up rapidly on the rails, but we were not eligible to apply for citizenship until we had had residency for four years (as an EU citizen; it is ten for non-EU applicants). We didn’t fulfil this requirement until the summer, when everything stops in Italy, so now things are back to what passes as normal we thought we had better get some advice.

Unfortunately, Mr G was not in the office, but we had a nice chat with his wife who said that she would talk to him about it and they would be in touch. What she did know, as did we from our Internet research, is that you need a certificate from the Comune as well as a certificate of language proficiency at level B1 – but, she said, we shouldn’t worry about that as they have just completed a successful application for a Ukrainian woman who lives locally and who passed the test despite speaking very poor Italian.

Although the washing machine was back in action, Stephen made a second visit to the laundrette this morning, while I got on with some household chores, to use up the excess laundry tokens by washing the thicker duvet ready for the onset of wintery temperatures. This was somewhat at odds with the weather as another hot (for the time of year) spell began yesterday, and is due to last a few days more. So, whilst the duvet was hung over the railings to air and we manhandled the dining table from the terrazzo to its winter quarters downstairs, Stephen and I had returned to wearing shorts and t-shirts. And why not, because after the 31st, who knows when we’ll see the sun again…