Fly by

25th June 2023

I’m pleased to be able to report that this past week has seen much use of the terrazzo of an evening as the proper summer weather that set in at the end of last week continued for this one – well, most of it. A series of days of blue skies and rising temperatures saw the thermometer hit 33° outside by Thursday afternoon, and not much less than that inside, conditions for doing little other than flopping on the cool granite tiles, if you are Bella and Harry, that is. The human members of the family couldn’t afford such luxury, having the various usual daily duties to attend to.

There was a bit of a blip when the rainstorm that the forecasts had predicted for both Wednesday and Thursday eventually manifested itself on Friday. Being a good sort, however, it waited till after 6 in the evening, but didn’t really get going till midway through the night. It had exhausted itself by 9 yesterday morning, but it took two or three hours for the clouds to dissipate and the sun to reassert its authority, leaving the air a little fresher and the temperatures a little lower.

One thing about spending quality time on the terrazzo has been hearing the noises coming from the electricity box fixed into the wall, at right angles to the front door. Fortunately, these haven’t been a fizzing or spluttering but the altogether more pleasant sound of chirruping. We have had, in the past, birds interested in building a nest in the box, it being ornithological prime real estate, but any attempt has been pre-empted by Stephen covering up the peephole near the top right-hand corner.

This year, however, when, a couple of weeks back, he noticed a small bird hanging about and darting in and out, and he opened the box, it was to discover he was too late. Not only was there a snug nest occupying the bottom section, in the space below the meter, but also what looked suspiciously like a handful of eggs. He closed the door and we have left everything well alone, but on hearing the chirruping this week we assume that the eggs have hatched. Obviously, we can’t verify this as we don’t want to interfere with the natural process, and trust that the mother bird will not only be able to keep them well fed but also guide them up and out of the peephole when it comes their time to fly.

And that was about it for the working week, which passed without anything of note. As for the weekend, we had planned to do a spot of shopping at Girasole followed by aperitivo somewhere yesterday evening, and maybe restart our beach walks this morning, but all those had to be put on the back burner when Stephen had a return of the stomach problems he last had when we were in Puglia. It doesn’t seem to have been quite so bad this time, and by this morning he was more or less ok – or at least making out he was – even going so far as to cut the grass this afternoon without collapsing into a soggy heap afterwards.

I, on the other hand, was grappling with something far more difficult: completing a form to claim my state pension (yes, that’s right, I am in the strange position of being able to receive it when I am only 47). As I live abroad, I have to use the International Pensions Direct Payments one, or at least I think I have, it wasn’t absolutely clear but as that was the only one the site would allow me access to it was that or nothing… or spending a small fortune in phone charges. Given the nature of the questions, I don’t think it is really designed for someone in my situation who lived and worked and paid contributions solely in the UK before abandoning a sinking ship, but I think I’ve answered all I need to as best as I can, so when I post it on Tuesday it will be in the lap of the gods, or www.gov.uk as they are otherwise known.

(Yes, I know this photo doesn't have anything to do with the narrative drive of this week's blog, but a picture of Friday morning's breakfast at Bar del Borgo adds a touch of local colour, I felt.)