Don't bank on it

19th September 2021

After an exciting two days it was very much back to normal on Monday, followed by a week which has been notable for its mundanity – though your local neighbourhood friend Tesco has been doing its best to bring a little diversion into my life, a diversion that included a long overdue trip to see our good friend Fiorenza at the Comune.

What prompted this, I hear you cry. The short answer is a letter I received a couple of weeks ago from Tesco Bank. The longer answer is that this letter was to inform me that as of the end of November they are closing all current accounts and I need to clear any money by that date, the ramification being that by then I will need to have a new current account up and running with a British bank because of small matters like my pension and Premium Bond savings.

This, however, is no easy matter as being resident in the UK is a requirement of all the possible banks that I researched online – all, that is, save one. God bless you, HSBC, as you alone had an account open to UK and EU residents, though any application would have to be supported by copies of certain documents certified in your present country. Fortunately, the copy of my ID card that I had to send last year to Tesco Bank (and a lot of good that was, thank you) counted as one, but I needed a second, which is why we had to call upon the services of Fiorenza and the Comune to verify that I was indeed who I said I was. Although we had to drag her away from a Zoom meeting, she happily compared my driving licence with the photocopy we had made before stamping it and signing it and asking in despair, as she usually does, what is going on in England and why is the Queen not doing something about it.

The following afternoon I made my online application to HSBC, and all seemed to go through ok. I am, however, still waiting for them to get in touch about the next steps and how to send the requested documents; it said online that they were very busy (I wonder why?) and there may be a delay before my application is looked at, so it’s crossed fingers in the meanwhile. As for Tesco, I am not in a position to mount a one-man boycott; you, though, may be otherwise situated.

In between the Comune and the online application we took time out on Tuesday afternoon to visit the kennels the other side of Macerata that we had found and exchanged messages with last week. And yes, it was a bit of a drive, but it was a very pleasant afternoon and the journey was made even easier for when we got to the end of the satnav as, though the kennels were some way down a couple of country roads, the place was well signposted by the owners – a bit of a surprise for Italy, and other places come to that, but one that suggested they knew what they were doing.

The place was in the middle of the countryside, comprising of a large, old farm building with two rows of kennels situated a little way from the house down a short path. The good news for Harry is that they face open fields, and more particularly, cultivated ones so with any luck when he is in residence he’ll have the odd tractor to bark at. Other than that, there isn’t a lot to say; the kennels were clean, none of the dogs looked unhappy or distressed, the couple running the business were pleasant but not pushy, and when I showed the lady a picture of Harry and Bella she went all dewy eyed and said how lovely they were – which more or less settled it. After a confab on the way home I messaged the next morning to make a three-night booking in October as a short trial for Bella and Harry, and maybe a short away-break for us.

Thursday, as we were well into September, I thought it about time I turned my attentions to my students. Alessio started last week, and I knew from Rocco that he was still in negotiations with Alessandra about the best day for them, as well as a possible addition to their little group, but as for the rest, who knew. A good chunk of the afternoon devoted to WhatsApp proved fruitful, with starting dates for most, a couple of new additions in the form of Vanna’s son and daughter, and a promise to let me know for Marzia and Diego. As usual, they are not able to commit a date as yet for, like Alessandra who is a teacher, they have to wait until their timetables are firmed up. As I know from my abortive experience with My School last September, whereas British schools have timetables finalised before the end of the previous school year, in Italy it seems the done thing to start the new one a state of flux.

Friday was haircut and packing day for Stephen, it being that time of year when MICAM and Linea Pelle beckon, though with the weather continuing fine but the forecasts predicting the onset of rain he was in a quandary as to whether or not to change his whole wardrobe. Adjustments were made that seemed mainly to involve borrowing some of my clothes – which beggars the question, what on earth could the latest trends be when things hanging in my wardrobe are di rigueur? Amongst all that he did find the odd ten minutes to start off the latest liqueur to be added to our homemade range, leaving a kilo of figs from our tree macerating with a couple of star anise in a jar of alcohol for the next thirty days.

You won’t be surprised to hear therefore that my weekend has been particularly domestic, pottering about while Stephen hits the big city. He is, again, offering a bed to Shoe Marco for a couple of nights, whose main concern on Friday was to ‘phone the landlord to check whether the hairdryer in the rental apartment was up to standard. You, like me, will be relieved to hear that was because no matter how little hair an Italian man of fashion has, it has to be perfect. My minor but important role in all this was to take Stephen to the station in Civitanova Marche in time for the 8.09 to Bologna yesterday morning and for breakfast in the station bar where a handsome young man, a new addition since our last visit (and with hair perfectly in place), served us our brioche and cappuccini. I have to say it wasn’t a bad way to start the morning., though it might be a bit of a trek to make it a daily occurrence… but there again, maybe not.