Ac-shon!

29th June 2025

Things got off to an exciting start on Monday when instead of waiting excitedly by the gate to have leads attached, Peggy and Harry ran round to the other side of the house, beyond the well, and began excitedly barking there. The reason? A cat which had taken refuge up the almond tree while Harry ran around in circles and Peggy tried to climb up it. Fortunately, while she might have been able to grab the polpettone on the kitchen window, the cat was well out of reach and it, given the distraction of me trying to get some semblance of order, managed to scramble down and leap over the fence into the field.

That though, wasn’t the end. While I got Peggy into her harness Harry decided he would try to bury into the pile of kindling that is stacked in the pizza oven by the side of the well. What was driving him on remains a mystery, but fortunately there was just enough of his back end sticking out for me to haul him out and latch on his lead while trying to keep Peggy calm, who had, as usual, wanted to follow his example and dive in. Before we returned from our walk, Stephen put up a couple of pallets as a barrier, just in case there was something nasty (or nice, depending on your perspective) in the wood pile, and they gradually lost interest during the day.

But that still wasn’t the end. We had just set out on our walk up the lane when Billy hove into view, out on his own for a morning stroll. Normally, Harry is more than happy to see his pal, though Peggy is a little less sure about him, but still buzzing with adrenaline they turned into wriggling, barking liabilities as we neared him. Billy, his usual phlegmatic self, just sauntered by – as he did again when the pair went through the same charade on the return leg. What larks.

What larks, indeed, and a very different lark to the one Stephen had in the afternoon when he found himself on baby-sitting duties.  Bertrando had been told that a couple of people would arrive on Monday morning to make a promotional film for one of their clients at the factory producing their boots. It was all right though, as they would be able to sort themselves out. Stephen was right to be sceptical, but he did make it to lunchtime before he received the message saying that his plans for the afternoon had changed and he had to go and supervise the burgeoning Wes Andersons.

The sigh of resignation he heaved proved woefully inadequate given the circus he went on to witness. To start with, there weren’t two people but five, each with his own camera jockeying for the optimum shooting angle as they disrupted the production, much to the owner’s disgust. That they asked if the man attaching the soles to the uppers could hold the pieces at a different angle as he applied the glue was bad enough, given that if he did so the shot might be easier for them but it was actually physically impossible, but they bettered it when wondering if the conveyor belt moving the shoes round the different work sections could be reversed so they travelled in the opposite direction. Apparently, a piece of machinery was blocking the view of the boots coming into shot. Well really, how shortsighted of the factory in not taking this into account when setting up the production line.

It wasn’t the most productive afternoon Stephen had ever spent, but maybe one of the most mind-numbing – and there’s more to come. The gang of five wanted to finish their montage with the shoes being wrapped in tissue paper and place in the box displaying the client’s name. A good idea and one of their less disruptive ones, except the boxes had not yet been delivered, so yes, they’ll have to make a return visit.

As elsewhere in Europe, with the hot and sunny weather continuing, Stephen brought up the old sun umbrella at the end of last week to give a bit of extra shade for the dogs in the corner of the terrazzo where Peggy likes to lie and Harry likes to take up guard duties. Not any longer, though. A sudden gust on Tuesday afternoon blew it over and so, the dogs being inside sprawling on the cold tiles, I took it out of the base (admittedly ineffectual since it sprang a leak, so instead of filling it with water Stephen had tried his best with a few handy stones) and laid it on the terrazzo – just ripe for Peggy to start chewing the material when she was lying there after dinner. She prefers being outside, it still being near 30° even by nine o’clock, to hanging around inside with us as we watch a bit of TV, but I blame Harry really for her getting a bit bored. She did come in partway through Asteroid City and tried to get him interested in playing, but he was not for having it so you can hardly blame her for making her own entertainment.

We then started a hectic social whirl, and I don’t mean the two combine harvesters executing an elegant paso doble as they gathered the wheat late into the night yesterday.  Rather, on Wednesday we made a long overdue visit to the seaside when we went for pizza at I Due Re in Civitanova with Marco and Maddalena, followed by a walk along the lungomare. That took a little longer than anticipated given both the paucity of suitable bars, i.e. ones where Maddalena didn’t think the bar staff looked strange, and the transmogrification of others into glitzy metropolitan chic establishments for the nouveau riche – to which, sadly, we can only aspire.

Friday was CarloCarla and dinner out for the second time in three days, and the first time this year of eating in their garden as the sun set and evening turned first to twilight and then to a drowsy numbness and a beaker full of the warm south (or, as in our case unlike Keats, a chilled rosé from Bastianelli across the valley). More exciting than that (even) was earlier when Stephen arrived home with his gifts from Sangiev, a valued client, who sent him two of his finest jumpers (for winter wear, obviously) and a cap as a token of his esteem (or as a way of offloading excess stock, depending how you want to look at it).

Stephen wasn’t the only one to end the week with new togs following this morning’s mission to find me some shorts decent enough for evening wear, though maybe it was more of an excuse to fit in breakfast at Funari for the first time in too long. It was one stop shopping where my shorts were concerned, finding two pairs of 40Weft and one pair of distressed Levi’s (the latter more to wow the breakfast club at Pina) all with 30% off at King in Girasole where a very nice young man came to ask if we needed help. We didn’t; by that time Stephen was well into personal shopper mode but we did pass the time of day about where we were from, etc, and when I left the store he smiled over at me and waved in a very friendly manner. Next time I’ll take one of my cards, because I’m sure he must be in need of English lessons.

To round off the week in the manner to which we were starting to get accustomed, Marco and Maddalena came round after dinner to introduce Mia to Peggy. Unlike Monday, the she and Harry acted like perfect hosts, and after several hectic minutes where the three of them ran round and round the garden, they all settled down allowing the grown ups to enjoy a very civilised evening of conversation, nice cakes (from Totò, another morning port of call) and a glass or two with beaded bubbles winking at the brim (ok John, we get it).