A change of plan

19th October 2025

The end of our holiday also marked the end of summer for us (well, it was halfway through October), with a return to long trousers and autumn wear on Monday. What was readily available, that is; the actual wardrobe changeover will have to wait till the laundry basket has been emptied.

Meanwhile, if we needed further confirmation that our routine was back to normal, we got it on Tuesday morning when we called into the post office to pay our water bill and send off a couple of birthday cards, and got the feeling that it could take some time going by the body language of the couple sitting at the counter. We gave it fifteen minutes, but as we were also due to sort the insurance, we decided to make a tactical withdrawal when Paolo called some helpline and got stuck in a queue, especially as there was another customer ahead of us.

This proved a wise move. We had our cappuccini and homemade cake at Pina. When we left, the couple from the PO were passing by and a quick look through the office window showed there was just one person at the counter. Let’s give it another go, we thought. We went back in just as the current transaction was being wrapped up, and after a few minutes we’d completed our business. In the end, we were only a little later than if we’d hung around – and we’d had breakfast. It’s these little wins that make a day a happy day. 

It was then over to Montegranaro to dot the i’s and cross the t’s on our new insurance policy. We knew that this would also take some time, but it could have taken less if Rodolfo, the insurance agent, hadn’t spent fifteen minutes talking about the origins of his surname (de Rosa, originating from the red rose Lancastrian supporters who, he said, ended up in Spain before moving across to southern Italy) and how he used to go diving for sea urchins and then eat them fresh and raw as a young man in Puglia.

When we left an hour later, not only were we so much better informed but we also had our new policies clutched in our sweaty hands. Mr de Rosa and Tiziana, his fierce assistant, (in a white hooded top, which might have been disappointing if not for the glittery sequined stripes adorning the arms) had sorted it all out, handling the various codes I’d received by text from the company and having me put my signature some twenty times on various forms (most of which, in that Italian way, needed signing in four places). 

Apart from an erstwhile student who, after a three-year hiatus has returned to the fold (telling me when I asked about his football, as he was a keen player, that due to a broken knee he was a bit scared of restarting the sport so had taken up kick boxing instead), it was the house that, unsurprisingly, dominated the end of the week. Stephen had received a message on Monday from Irene asking how things were with the Comune as she and Loris were wanting to order the materials for the support structure. Stephen explained that we had been in to see them, but as we’d just returned from holiday, we didn’t know what progress, if any, had been made as the road was in the same condition as we’d left it.

This, though, all became moot. Irene contacted Stephen again on Wednesday asking for us to call by the office, which we did on Friday morning when plans changed significantly. I said last time that the geologist’s assistant had logged some big readings, and as we suspected these marked significant movement in the ground under the house. What counts as significant in geological terms I can’t say, but whether it’s one centimetre or ten, or even a metre, it was serious enough to pre-empt the support work and switch focus to the foundations. As was pointed out during the discussion, we could put up the pillars, but they would just move with the house and the land, achieving nothing.

The solution put forward is underpin all the load bearing walls, digging down far enough to be able to put a supporting layer (of concrete maybe, we’re not quite sure on that) for them to rest on rather than on the earth and thereby keep them stable. This is obviously a much more substantial intervention, involving more work and more cost, but having discussed the options between us (have it done; just cross our fingers and hope for the best; cut our losses and move) there really was no choice.

We’re very happy in the house, we love the location, and, most importantly (and I make no apologies) what would Peggy and Harry do if we moved to the centre of the town?  We told Irene, who had joined us partway through, and her dad to go ahead with the work, which will also include taking down the garage and the terrazzo above it to access the house wall. We’re looking at a start date sometime early next year, given the winter weather and the time needed to get everything sorted – and for the Comune to do something about the road.

Are we downhearted? Not a bit. It is what it is; you have to accept it and just get on. There was, though, cause for minor celebration over the weekend, which was spent at home. Thanks to Stephen’s sterling efforts, this morning we had an empty washing basket – not something that happens at the best of times. It wasn’t that way for long, once I’d finished my chores and shimmied off my morning scrubs to spruce up for the day ahead, but it was nice while it lasted and another little victory gave us a 2-1 win on the week.