Colour my life

8th August 2021

It would be stretching things a little too far to say that the peace and quiet of a weekend with just the three of us was shattered by the return of Stephen shortly before lunch on Monday. His return did, though, mark the resumption of what passes for normal service, and not just because the wind gradually settled down to a forceful breeze some time in the afternoon.

The good news was that a good time was had by all, and that his new toy, a petrol driven mower, was delivered while he was at the factory in the afternoon. I say delivered, but I’m not sure that is the correct term for a parcel being left in the middle of the road outside the Carellis, fortunately timed moments before Stephen arrived to see the van disappearing down the hill and for him to gather it in before any harm came to it.

The bad news was that when he drove back to LCDDB he spotted that the rear wheel on the passenger side of the Panda was flat. He pumped it up again, just to check whether or not it was a puncture, and of course it was for it didn’t take very long for it to return to its deflated state. The results of this were: (a) Stephen had to use the Freeclimber to collect Fouzia for her lesson; (b) he also had to change the wheel next morning so we could (c) drop the car off at the garage on the way to do the shopping.

The nice young man at the garage said he would get a look at it sometime during the day, but it might be later as he had to interrupt his work to go and get vaccinated. He assured us, though, that it would be done before the end of play. When Stephen phoned in the late afternoon it was the father who answered, who is maybe not the best person to man your switchboard unless you can guarantee that all callers are fluent in the MSP dialect. Stephen, having learnt from the best in the Stefonis’ factory, was able to make out that the car was ready. When we collected it, the son said that he had repaired a puncture and that the tyre was as good as new and had also checked the others, which were all ok.

We paid the more than reasonable charge, especially considering what a replacement would have set us back, and went happily home but not till after Stephen had made arrangements to drop in the Freeclimber next Tuesday morning. You may recall that a few months ago Stephen bought a replacement seat belt latch from the reclamation yard the other side of Macina, but has continued to make do with fastening his belt into the passenger latch when driving. Obviously, with the Panda temporarily out of action the logistics of two people, two seat belts and one latch demonstrated that the time might have come to finally get it fixed.

Wednesday was an early start for some, including Harry and whoever began muckspreading in a nearby field sometime before our 6.30 alarm. I dare say that whatever they spread across the land these days is a little more sophisticated than in the old days, but it still packs something of a punch as one whiff makes Harry so excited that he barks like a lunatic and, once let out, runs around like, well, a lunatic. And if that wasn’t enough, once the scent had settled and he had calmed down, Stephen’s maiden use of the new mower (with better results for less toil and sweat) riled him up again until he got used to the new noise.

The end of the working week before Stephen and I ostensibly finished, like the vast majority of Italians, for the August holidays, was centred round medical matters. Thursday Stephen went to the dentist for his clean and polish, which was not quite the end of things as Claudia made an appointment for him to go back in October as there are a couple of things she is not totally happy with. Friday morning I had my second vaccination, which was a particularly speedy affair.

It took us comfortably less than two hours to drive to Fermo, have the injection, stop for breakfast on the way back and do the shopping. All that and some banter with the functionary behind the desk when he discovered I was British. He’d been to England three times he said, including once to Edinburgh. “Edinburgh is the best place in England!” he proclaimed, though I did suggest he should be cautious in repeating that should he find himself again in Scotland.

Yesterday was another red-letter day as for the first time in almost two years we went to a festa, or rather we tried to. A few days earlier Stephen had seen a post on Facebook by the Comune di Loro Piceno promoting Loro a Colori and promising various activities as well as aperitivi in the streets of the town on three Saturday evenings in August. We took this as an alternative to the usual vino cotto festival, and our inkling that maybe it was a bit of a last-minute decision given the lack of notice in the appearance of the poster proved correct.

Not only did Claudia, whose mother is a stalwart of the festival, know nothing about it when Stephen asked her after his dental spring clean, when we arrived at Loro itself yesterday evening we were hard put to find any evidence of any sort of event. A wander through the old streets did eventually result in us seeing a sign pointing down an alley and promising food, and following it did bring us to an eating spot in someone’s courtyard, but as they were still sticking up the menu on the wall outside we thought we were a tad early.

That was fine, and in absence of the promised aperitivi in the streets, we headed to a bar where, from our scant knowledge of Loro, we knew we could find a terrazzo with a view. A couple of spritz followed by a glass of wine (me) and a Chinotto (a sort of bitter Italian Coca Cola - Stephen) while admiring the view passed enough time so that when we returned to the eating spot a couple of the tables had a handful of people each, indicating things were underway. We placed our order and enjoyed a bowl of tortellini al boscaiola and a few olive ascolana before another wander, this time following some music which happened to stop before we came upon a makeshift bar by an area of haybale seating, which I think was a vino cotto point.

We were, I’m sorry to say, not tempted by these delights, but instead headed down to the car park for a caffè before heading home. It may seem that our evening was less than exciting, and perhaps it was, but you will know from your own experience that to be able to wander aimlessly in the warmth of an August night, stopping for a pre-dinner gargle here, some pasta there and a coffee at a bar are simple pleasures not to be taken for granted and for us, at least, it was a wonderful evening.