Buon anno

2nd January 2022

Firstly, dispensing with the necessaries, a happy New Year to both my readers, with my best wishes that 2022 brings you health, wealth and happiness, or at least the nearest approximation in these continuing interesting times. Before we get to the actual day itself, however, (spoiler alert: nothing happened) there is the tail end of December to put to bed.

After our quietly but very satisfactory Christmas weekend at home, Stephen wanted to check up on a couple of work-related things, so set off at his usual Monday morning time to see what was happening at the factory. Not much, for he was back home within half an hour, having passed the time of day with the family, and here he remained for the rest of the day. He tried once more on Wednesday, and had even less luck; he couldn’t even get inside as the factory was closed and when he phoned Mirco it was to discover he was somewhere in Macerata on a shopping trip.

You will notice he didn’t try on Tuesday morning, for, in an attempt to get a little glamour and excitement in our lives, we took a trip to the new Conad super supermarket in Civitanova – new to Conad that is. Those with long – and effective - memories will recall that there was a time when we made regular trips to Iper at Cuore Adriatico, but as I realised on our way there that it was sixteen months since we had been inside the shopping centre, and then albeit briefly to pick up things from Shoe Marco for our fancy dress for Claudia’s party – ah, those were the days – working back from that shows how long it is since we pushed a trolley round the mall’s supermarket.

Push we did, for the joy of visiting a new shop, especially a large one, is that it does wonders for your Fitbit steps as not knowing where anything is you can backtrack to your heart’s content and clock up those kilometres. Throw in breakfast at C House coffee bar and a quick look in Tiger, it was a most satisfying day, especially when you add a takeaway lunch of sushi from the dedicated stand in the supermarket.

While Stephen was finding it difficult to work, I had a lesson on Wednesday and two on Thursday, which is why he found himself responsible for preparing dinner for Marco and Maddalena, our Thursday night guests. A bit of planning should have meant that it was straightforward: cheese, ciauscolo and lonza to start (the meats courtesy of Christmas presents) and an apple and sultana tart for pudding (courtesy of Conad) bookending a Diana Henry main of pork chops cooked with beetroot, apple and caraway seeds and served with baked fennel. Should have…

You know how our electricity is a bit reluctant to have two demanding appliances running at the same time, so you will understand why, while the vegetables were starting to roast in the oven, the trip switch cut the supply when Stephen turned up the hob to high to seal the chops. A minor blip, as usually we flip the switch back and continue with only one thing operating, but in this case the choice was made for us as our oven refused to cooperate. The display read FAIL F07, and continued to do so despite switching it off and on again a couple of times, suggesting that something was amiss.

A quick ferret in one of the cupboards in the back room turfed up the instruction manual (and, in one of those silver lining moments, the missing Christmas presents from the other week, which were lurking in a box that Stephen hadn’t looked inside thinking it was empty, so we can use them next year, as long at the recipients don’t mind Christmas lavender novelties that no longer smell of lavender), which helpfully said that if the display panel showed a FAIL code the only thing to do was contact the service centre.

As that was not really an option at gone 6pm on the day before New Year’s Eve, or on New Year’s Eve itself, any contact will have to wait till next week. In the meantime, the more pressing issue was how to feed our guests. The solution was to turn the oven baked dish into a sort of hot pot simmered on the hob, with the fennel sliced up more finely as a mouth cleansing salad. Catastrophe was averted, a happy evening was had by all, and an elegant variation was added to our repertoire of dishes. You could almost consider it a win win situation, if not for the inconvenience – and when we get hit with a bill for a new oven.

The weather for the end of the year was bright and sunny, which Bella and Harry much appreciated and made our Friday morning shopping/haircuts expedition all the more pleasant. We had planned on a quiet night in with a couple of Sigma’s frozen pizze (very good – at least the expensive ones are…) but a defunct oven put paid to that. Instead, it was a plate of leftovers and Drag Race All Stars and betimes to bed, where we managed an hour or so of sleep before a barrage of fireworks thoughtfully woke us up so we knew we had entered a new year.

It was equally sunny yesterday, and spending the day at home once again, the biggest decision we had to make was what to eat. Lunch was easy, what else for New Year’s Day than tortellini in brodo? Dinner, though, required another bit of jiggling about as the pork loin Stephen had got from Pia at the same time as the chops had about as much chance as they had of being roasted in the oven. Instead, then, of arista di maiale con arance, once more it was out with the big pan for a stove-top hot pot – and very succulent it was too.

There was one new thing for the first day of the year in the shape of Stefano from near Bologna, who had seen my profile on Conversation Exchange and got in touch earlier in the week. We chatted in the evening for half an hour and have arranged to chat again on Tuesday. The plus point in his favour, apart from being a very nice man, is that he seems to want his conversation in half hour bursts, which will be much easier to factor in when the schools go back and my lessons start up in earnest again.

Despite the forecast predicting continued sunshine, the humidity we woke to this morning, shrouding everything in ghostly grey and causing the tree branches to drip on your head when you walked under them, persisted for most of the day. Maybe five minutes up the road there was an abundance of blue skies, but given the time of year the sun wasn’t able to muster quite enough enthusiasm to burn off the mist in our part of the valley. Stephen took the opportunity to bid farewell to Christmas, dismantling his tree and taking down all the other decorations ready for a working week. The only things to escape his retrenchments were the terrazzo lights, which were too damp to roll up and put away. It is but a short reprieve, as no doubt tomorrow he will be itching to hurry them on their way – but just like Frosty the Snowman, they’ll be back again someday.