Anyroad

17th December 2023

If last week’s blog was a feast, this one is a bit of a famine, though while it has been uneventful for the most part it has not been without its moments of unbounded joy. Yes, they did the road.

Picture this: a cold, dry Monday morning and a man and his two dogs are picking their way through the rubble that constitutes their road. They are halfway up when a white Range Rover approaches them. He stands aside, pulling his dogs away from the path of the car, thinking that whoever it is who has missed their turning should have little problem getting out again in that beast when it comes to a stop. The window winds down and “Are you the owner?” asks the passenger from the other side of the car. “Yes,” replies the man, excitement beginning to bubble inside him as he recognises the contractor who had visited the house several days earlier with the man from the Comune. “We are doing the road subito,” said the passenger. (Note: subito translates as immediately, but remember we are in Italy where such a concept is elastic). With this the white Range Rover heads down the road and our man and his dogs continue their walk, with a lighter step.

Right, I think that is enough of that so let’s cut to the chase.

After returning to the top of the road, the contractor and the driver of the car, his young (to me, anyway) sidekick were as good as their word. They worked on the banking at the top that Mario and Luigi had complained was about to collapse, they levelled the road and they put down a top layer which this time was more granular than pebbly, so hopefully will compact into a reasonable surface that might withstand rain better. They also dug out a channel at both sides, making a bit of a camber but also, again hopefully, encouraging any future rainwater to follow that path rather than gouge out the road. By time evening came, all was finished and I was able to head out to my lesson in Monte Urano sailing up the incline at a stately pace and not being thrown about from side to side. Utter bliss… and long may it continue.

That the rest of the week passed in comforting mundanity was all right by us; there really wasn’t anything that could hope to follow Monday’s ecstasy - not that the weekend wasn’t without it’s highlights.

On Friday Stephen arrived home with my Christmas flowers, a sculptural arrangement of berries, leaves and three large red anthuriums (no, I’m not a plant expert, but it’s amazing how forgiving Google now is when you enter a vague search criterion – again, a Google search says that is the singular, though criteria is also now used as the singular, but using it as such might irk some of one’s readers and heaven knows I don’t want to do that, I know what both of you are like when you have your dander up - such as “exotic red flower”). He also presented me with a baby fir tree bedecked for the season with ribbon, mini decorations and a very jolly reindeer.

After a Saturday at home we broke with tradition, and maybe set a new one, by venturing to Macerata for its Christmas market. Our go-to destination is usually Fermo, but having been there last weekend and feeling like a bit of a change, we headed north-east instead of south-west, and very pleased we are that we did so. Coming out of the alley from the carpark we found the main street lined on one side with a good selection of stalls and chestnuts roasting on a partially open fire.  There was nothing particularly to tempt us, though, apart from the honey man from Rapagnano, but we left that purchase till we were on our way back.

Instead, we headed past the Sferisterio, home of the Macerata Opera Festival, and through the old city gate to climb up the hill to the main square – which took us past the city’s presepi display. Eat your heart out, Fermo; this is now our favourite, for though the many on display were not to the same scale, they more than made up in originality and quirkiness (a nativity in a shoe, anyone, or on a violin?) Buoyed by this unexpected but joyous discovery we then found more stalls in the square, as well as the surrounding arcades, and an alley by the Museum of Cinema with a display of neon art installations ending in another presepe made from recycled cardboard. After a wander and a judicious scrutiny we came away with quite a healthy haul of gifts, mainly for others but one or two for ourselves. We could have done with something to carry everything - but maybe not. As I said to Stephen as we were walking away from the car and the thought of arming ourselves with a bag occurred: remember Murphy’s law, if we take one we won’t find anything; if we don’t, we will. The glow of being right; it’s almost as good as finding a wonderful new presepi display.