Down the hatch

5th May 2024

It has been very much a matter of more of the usual this past week, although there has been one new entry to bring a bit of variety to the proceedings.

Stephen was back at the dentist on Monday morning where Claudia finished the current work to everyone’s satisfaction so he doesn’t need to go back until September. Harry was kept occupied barking at the planter that spent a couple of hours disseminating seeds up and down the field across the lane – hopefully sunflowers as in Mario and Luigi’s, which are always a glorious sight. Tuesday morning was a quick shop at Conad seeing as we were well stocked after the previous Sunday. Stephen also upped the anti-snail/slug action as he had added courgette plants to the orto the previous Saturday, by bedding in the half dozen beer traps that had been one of his birthday presents.

There was an elegant variation to my Tuesday, however. I was taking a few minutes to relax after lunch with a caffè when my mobile rang. It turned out to be someone in the village who was asking about a few English lessons for his 16-year-old daughter who needed to catch-up a bit on her marks. I said that was possible depending when. “Today,” he replied, a response which is no longer a surprise. I did have a window in the afternoon, and duly turned up at his house at 3 pm. I won’t labour the point, nor will I give any names in order to protect the innocent, but it was a not unfamiliar situation. The mother was keen to have a lesson that day and the next, even if it was a public holiday, the daughter was much less keen to have a lesson at all, never mind another when she could go out with her friends. Whilst I did my best to be Mr Jovial Personality (a tough call, I know) I wasn’t totally surprised to receive a message later saying the daughter was not free the next day after all, so I think that is all she wrote on that one.

As indicated, Wednesday was Festa dei Lavoratori which we celebrated in our usual fashion where holidays are concerned: by staying at home and catching up on bits and pieces. That might have been a wise decision, for while the morning was sunny there was a return of rain in the afternoon, a pattern repeated on Thursday, though that day the rain around lunchtime was particularly fierce.

As for Friday, the weather took a back seat as two other problems reared their heads. The first was the matter of Bella and her tablets. She now has to take two a day, one the BeSame which she was taking previously, the other is the Altadol, of which she has to take half twice a day. The Precovix which we also bought as per the prescription he gave us, the vet said, when Stephen emailed him to confirm the dosages, we don’t need to bother with for now; anti-inflammatory pills for dogs, anyone? Bella, bless her, after weeks of having the BeSame broken in half (they are some size) and pushed down her gullet in two hits followed by a rapid holding together of her jaws to prevent her spitting them out (which might take two goes or somewhat more depending on my aim – while Harry, ever the opportunist, watches closely in the hope that he might snaffle a bit, thinking he is missing out on a treat) decided that bringing another, an even less tasty pain killer, on the scene was a pill too far. She struggled and griped when it came anywhere near her mouth, and gave every indication that should we pursue this matter she might have to take further action.

We discounted most of the advice we found from a quick Google search, mainly because we had already tried it, but a video on YouTube gave us a new lead when a vet administered a tablet to a remarkably compliant retriever in a bit of sausage. Nothing ventured and Stephen, when doing the shopping, slipped a packet of Coal’s finest (or rather, smelliest and fattiest) wurstel into the trolley. And that, so far, has done the trick. Mind you, given the size of the tablets and the sensitivity of Bella’s nose and taste buds, we have to bed the pill in a sizeable chunk both to hide them and to camouflage the taste. No doubt the people at Coal who monitor these things will be wondering about the spike in hot dog sausage sales in Monte San Pietrangeli.

The other problem surfaced as we were returning from the usual shopping and haircut double whammy and stopped to collect the recycling bin from the top of our road, the one for non-recyclable waste. I usually get out to collect it, but Stephen beat me to it this time as the lid was up with a note stuck to it.  Before I tell you what it said, I need to take you back a few days (like in all the best suspense stories) to when we were shopping at Conad in Cuore Adriatico.

One of the things on our list (as opposed to all those things not on our list that we somehow ended up with) were the bags for the non-recyclable waste bin in the kitchen. Usually these form part of the package of liners that the Comune hand out at the beginning of the year, but this year for whatever reason they were missing. We had run out and so Stephen took ages weighing up what was the best buy and size from the selection on offer, putting two rolls in the trolley to keep us going for the rest of the year, the right colour (grey) and an appropriate size for our bin. He used one of these, then transferred it to the collecting bin before taking that up on Thursday evening.

As for the note, that said, in fairly nowty terms considering in over eight years this is the first time there has been a problem, that we shouldn’t use the bags that are convenient for us (convenient… much deliberated, I would have you know) but the ones that we should use. Which are? And if the one we used was so bad, why was it taken? Stephen, fired by the injustice of it all, took a detour to the Comune with a sample of the bag instead of going straight to work, and whilst he came away enlightened he was maybe not totally appeased as we were, unsurprisingly, in the wrong. What peeved the man was that we hadn’t used a translucent bag, but an opaque one. Apparently, it has to be transparent so he can see what is inside. Who knew? Not us – but there again, it is Italy, the land where they believe that osmosis is the way to circulate information.

We’re not the only ones to fall foul of the poison pen, it turned out, for when Stephen regaled Marco and Maddalena with the story yesterday evening, she said that she’d had the same message left, and Maddalena is very punctilious about these things. We had met up for a dinner date at CarloCarla, a bed and breakfast the other side of the village that had been taken over a year or so ago by a Dutch couple, who had then, last November, opened the restaurant to non-residents. We were unaware of its existence until it came up in a conversation with Rocco one haircut; he said that he hadn’t been himself but others had said it was good. They weren’t wrong. We had a very fine meal at a very reasonable price and will definitely go again – and not just because it offered a different experience from the usual Italian formula (much as we love it). And what’s more, the view from the restaurant looked down over to our side of MSP, and if it hadn’t been for an inconvenient tree, and maybe an unfortunate dip, we would have been able to see our house in the far distance.

As for today, Stephen spent a happy hour or so sorting a couple of cupboards in the kitchen, rearranging where things went to make room for our new purchase that arrived yesterday. We are not in the habit of investing in gadgets but have, after glowing praise from Maddalena the other week when we were in Macerata, invested in an air fryer. The issue this raised was where to put it, not wanting it on display (“Clean surfaces! Clean surfaces!” as Edina said in an episode of Absolutely Fabulous, and she should know). It is housed out of sight but conveniently awaiting its maiden voyage.

It's been a busy day all round for Stephen as he cut the grass this afternoon. I know you will be eager to find out if he was able to set the mower to its lowest setting. Well, yes and no. He was able to do so, but in a moment of aberration he only changed one side, giving the grass an interesting New Romantic asymmetrical look (ask your parents, or better still, your grandparents) – so it’s just as well that tree’s there otherwise it would put the sweeping perfection of the panorama from CarloCarla bang out of kilter.