Everglow

I was beginning to think that this blog had too many subplots than was good for it, what with parties and tubes and school and new students and Covid tests, but with the 80s Pool Party having reached a happy ending and with the water storyline shaping up for its dénouement, things were hopefully going to become a little calmer.

Before I come to all that, however, there is the sad news that my mother passed away this week. As you know, she had been in the care home for the past couple of months, gradually becoming weaker as her illness progressed. I received a message on Monday that things were not good and that my father had been taken to see her. He returned a couple of more times over the next few days, being allowed into her room and being able to touch her and hold her hand for the first time since she went into hospital. The end came on Friday night, but it is some comfort that Stephen and I were able to speak to her on Tuesday morning via the iPad. She was able to recognise us and, with help, to raise her hand to us, though the biggest squeeze the nurse’s hand received was when I told her about Bella and Harry. She also tried to speak; the nurse and we were sure she was saying ‘I love you,’ which is, ultimately the most important thing any of us can say.

Back to other matters.

It seemed appropriate that Monday, the last day of August, was on the rainy side, marking the definite end of the summer holiday season, and when the sun returned on Tuesday there was an autumnal edge in the slightly cooler temperatures and the dappled shade on the terrazzo allowing Bella to stretch out for most of the morning. Stephen was able to contact the plumber and coordinating with Loris, Friday was earmarked for the day of the great tubo changeover. In the afternoon I had an appointment with the occulist to check up on the state of my incipient cataracts, which had progressed to a degree. They were not at the point where intervention is required but are such that any change of lens prescription would have very little effect on correcting the slight blurriness that has developed since last October. We are due back in another six months so will see how things stand then.

I now have a confession to make, and one that I hope doesn’t make you think any the less of me, when I say that at this late stage in my life I have taken to scrumping apples - not that I have been climbing high garden walls or shimmying up trees, it has been much more decorous and inconspicuous than that. You may remember that earlier in the year I posted a photo of an apple tree covered in blossom. This is the one that stands at the top of the lane and which, we presume, belongs to Mario and Luigi as it is on the edge of their field. This is now heavy with fruit, and even though quite a few apples have already fallen onto the road there is still an embarrassment of riches left hanging. It would seem such a shame if the fruit didn’t fulfil its destiny, and, with an eye to our own winter provisions, a few jars of apple chutney seemed like a good idea. That is why, from Tuesday on, I have returned from our morning walk with Bella and Harry, innocent bystanders to the crime, with the pockets of my sweat shorts (fortunately, capacious and flexible) bulging as I amass enough to make the chutney.

Later that day it was back to matters scholastic when Alice came for her language session in which we went over her presentation and we worked on various possible improvements. Then the next day it was time for my postponed meeting at My School, only it wasn’t. I arrived at 10am as requested to find not a meeting but the school in operation, though I got the impression that standing in front of a class of pupils was also a bit of a surprise to some of the staff. I spent the rest of the morning, till the pupils were dismissed at 13.10 (earlier than the normal, I later found out) with Teacher Joe, the English specialist, first with the Year 3 class and then the Year 2 one, as he did his best to keep them occupied. We even managed a spot of socially distanced recreational time in the play area; that was easier said than done but at least it gave the children a break from being confined to their desks, which Covid regulations require.

I then hung around in the school office, waiting for the meeting that was to be at 2pm, while the other new madre lingua teacher (the one for the pre-school and infant years) showed Alessandra some work schemes available online and Annalena, the headmistress, beamed at the fact she had all this wonderful English staff. Eventually, around quarter to two, Annalena said that we could have the meeting maybe on Monday or Friday instead, before deciding it would be on Friday. This meant I was free to go after sitting there for thirty minutes, but before I did I pointed out politely that I needed to know what days they would want me so I could start organising my other students. Monday, Thursday and Friday were mentioned, to fit in around the two days bagged by the other madre lingua teacher. I said any of those would be fine and it was decided that I would do Monday and Thursday, which were ideal for me as they fitted in nicely with shopping and haircuts (priorities, you see).

It was later that afternoon when Paola (my go-between) called to see how things had gone. This was not so much because she was concerned about me but because she is working in the school canteen and wanted to know if anything had been said about that. Given they were struggling to get a meeting organised to discuss the lessons, she had very little chance on that one. All I was able to tell her was that the school appeared to be doing half-days at the moment and that no mention had been made of lunches.

As for my private lessons, they were gearing up apace as not only did I have my first one with Fouzia (a very pleasant young lady, so that maintains my nigh unblemished record where niceness of students is concerned) but I also, during it, had a couple of calls from an insistent unknown number that, when I answered it on the second attempt to contact me, was from a young man wanting lessons. I said I would call him back in half-an-hour, and when I did it was to find out that he was called Giacomo, that I had been recommended by Irene (remember her?) and that he needed to improve his speaking. We arranged for him to come the next morning for a chat where it further transpired he has recently graduated in chemical engineering from Bologna University but he is so far unemployed as he is finding that the firms he applies to require an interview in English as part of the process, which he is finding challenging. He is looking for maybe a month’s worth of lessons, two a week, by which time he hopes to have a job (I will keep my fingers crossed on that one). I would add that he was a very pleasant and mannerable young man, but I have said it so often, even in the recent past, that I fear you will start to doubt me.

The other big things that happened on Thursday were that Loris started on the trench for the water pipe, excavating the field and exposing the existent tube all the way from the dogleg to our fence, meaning that Andrea and Simone, the plumbers, should be able to make an early start on it the next day, and that Computer Luca came to return his and Alessio’s clothes from the party. We took the opportunity of his visit to have dinner (i.e. chicken burgers and beer) at the pub, now that it had reopened after its summer break. We were not the only ones with the same idea, and to say that it was heaving is an understatement.

We got served attentively enough but there was a slight problem when it came to paying - and not just because we had timed our exit for just after a large group of youths were all paying individually. The real problem was that we hit it just as the kitchen was busy with food orders, and as it was the front of house lady’s first night she didn’t know how to work the till. The owner was in the kitchen with her father, rustling up the food and unable to see to us so after waiting for twenty minutes Stephen went to the door and said he would come back the next day to pay. The were very apologetic and more than ready for him to do so to take off that pressure, and when he did go back on Friday to settle the bill they gave us the coffees and digestivi for free.

Before all that, however, Friday was another busy day, starting with the plumbers arriving to finally (crossed fingers) put the tube to bed – 2 metres down in this case, hopefully out of reach of any demon tractor blades. It also now enters our property two metres down instead of taking a sudden upward trajectory at the boundary, a feat that showed Loris’ skill with a mini digger in that he was able to come into our garden and excavate the area without damage to the fence and with a modicum of disruption to the land – though it is, perhaps, a reflection on the natural approach we take to landscaping that after he had finished, you couldn’t really tell the difference between the area he had dug up and the rest.

As far as replacing the actual pipe was concerned, in an elegant variation Andrea recommended that the tube be put inside a loose, flexible outer casing, the thinking behind this being that should there be any disturbance to the ground for whatever reason, the casing moves but the tube doesn’t. Mario pooh-poohed this suggestion, saying it was extra expense and that there was no need for it so naturally we went with the plumber, it being our water supply and our money.

That having been accomplished, it left Stephen free in the afternoon to go looking at cars while I went for my meeting at the school. I wasn’t surprised to find the front door locked, but I was a little nonplussed when, after ringing the bell for entrance, a nun appeared at the side office window. Taking it my stride, I said I was here for the meeting, at which she looked a little quizzical, but disappeared to return a couple of minutes later with Annalena. Hadn’t I got the message, she asked, the one that said the meeting had been moved to Monday? Well no, otherwise I wouldn’t have been there. On checking her phone, she discovered that she had actually sent the text to someone called Jean, which is how she pronounces Ian (my name for some reason being a challenge for Italians to say) as her second language, she explained, is French, not English. Well that’s ok then, and that information more than makes up for a 60 minute round trip for no reason whatsoever. Fingers crossed we actually get the meeting on Monday, but I am not holding my breath, or adding another idiom.

Meanwhile, as I said, Stephen was out, with Nazareno and Mirco, looking at cars, or rather, one car in particular. With the Freeclimber becoming increasingly unreliable as the battery seems not to want to start no matter how long it has been on charge, the Carellis had found what they said was a very good bargain in the shape of an only slightly second-hand Suzuki Jimny and took him into Civitanova to see it. Stephen was very taken, though being a hybrid there is not an awful lot (i.e. none, really, when the back seats are up) boot space as that is mainly taken up with the gas tank. It would, however, cope very well with the road and look good when driving around the village.

He left with his party with some thinking to do, weighing the pros and the cons and also waiting while the dealership worked out the actual price as three different salesmen had given three different figures. He also wanted me to see it, because my immense car knowledge is always indispensible… Consequently, during our shopping tour yesterday afternoon (Aqua e Sapone, Girosole and Click Café) we stopped off for a look. Yes, it is very cute (see, evidence of my grip of all things vehicular) and yes, it is very Civitanova trendy but the lack of space (together, of course, with the price) could be a deal breaker. The jury is out.

As for today, it has been a gloriously sunny one that I have spent at home pottering and catching up with some bits and pieces. Stephen, however, having avowed that the other Friday was his last beach day snuck another one in when he met up with Computer Luca at Pedaso. Not that I begrudge him for, as Sting said, if you love somebody, set them free – just as long as they are home in time to make dinner.

So if you love someone, you should let them know

Oh, the light that you gave me will everglow