If you can't stand the heat...

14th July 2024

There was a bit of a change in routine at the start of the week, and I don’t mean the flat tyre that Stephen discovered on the Panda when he was out on Monday morning. Cometh the hour, they say, and indeed Stephen threw caution to the wind and changed the wheel all by himself, dropping it off with Ivano at the garage on his way home for lunch, arriving somewhat heated from his exertions – understandably so with temperatures pushing 30° by late morning.

He did at least have a longer midday break as Ivano had said it would be after two before the tyre was fixed, and at least that meant he could shower and freshen up, an important consideration given that when he left after lunch that was the last we saw of him till Wednesday evening. This is where we come to the change in routine as it was his turn to meet with the head honchos in Milan, catching the 6 pm train from Civitanova. That this was running late caused him some consternation, but fortunately so was his connection at Bologna so manhandling a trunk of samples across the station was more an embarrassment than a Krypton Factor challenge, especially with a bit of a limp from an ankle that had decided to become sore for some reason.  

While he was busy keeping the world of shoes in order, the most exciting thing that happened to me was leaving the two birthday cards on the counter that I had bought in Pina, meaning a quick about turn on Tuesday morning when I got home with the shopping and discovered my mistake. It also fell to me to take over orto duties, keeping it well watered and picking the ripe tomatoes and a couple of courgettes before they became marrow size.

As I said, it was Wednesday evening before Stephen returned home, and then a little later than anticipated as the train was thirty minutes behind schedule arriving in Civitanova. Consequently, we didn’t finish dinner till well after 10 o’clock, so some time sitting on the terrazzo was a good idea, not only to aid digestion but also to cool down a little as the temperatures continued to increase. Despite the heat, Stephen found time between trains in Bologna to tramp Via Indipendenza with his luggage and limp to gather a haul of goodies for me from the cannabis shop. It was a relief to see it still open and operating, as that nice Mr Salvini, Deputy Prime Minister and alleged friend of Putin, has decided it’s time to curtail the availability of the demon weed. You can see his point; the present Meloni government, which is in no shape or form whatsoever Fascist, is correct in protecting the nation from the corrupting influence of a packet of gummy bears.

It was twice in two weeks when we made a quick return visit to the Fermo market on Thursday evening, ostensibly to take a couple of pictures of Bella and Harry to the nice young woman from Monte San Giusto who crochets 3D heads (remember Mia last year?) but also as I promised Stephen some proper jam to go with the honey I treated myself to last week. He always says that the cheap stuff is good enough for him, but maybe he might be coming round seeing as the last jar he bought at a bargain basement price from a discount supermarket not only lacked any real flavour but began generating its own germ culture after a couple of weeks, even with being kept in the fridge.

Apart from those two tasks, and aperitivo at Art Asylum obviously, we stopped off at the lady with the vast selection of friendship bracelets to get this year’s additions (last week’s, when we were misled by Marco, don’t count) – mine alternative brown and bronze, Stephen’s off-white – and a bottle of Amaro dell’Erborista that was seductively whispering our names as we had our caffè at Foschi.

After g&t’s at the revamped Chupito last Saturday, it was the turn of the revamped Verde Pistacchio (and no, the double c is not a typographical error) to benefit from our custom. We only managed one visit to this pizzeria/restaurant about ten minutes’ drive from MSP, situated where several B roads from different small towns in the area converge to join the A road towards Civitanova, in its previous incarnation because it closed shortly after we arrived here and had remained so. It reopened a couple of weeks ago, following much talk around the village as a local MSP woman, Laura, is in charge, together with her wife (no, we aren’t the only guys in the village, but you can’t have everything) and a couple of business partners.

We booked our table for the ridiculously early time of 7.30, which was calculated to (a) try to ensure we were home at a reasonable enough time to cool off on the terrazzo before bed, and (b) ensure that our presence was noted. This it certainly was as Laura, an acquaintance of Stephen’s from old MacIntosh days, greeted him like a long-lost friend and brought out two or three others whom he had also not seem for a while.

Whilst we might have been the first to arrive, a steady stream of customers started around eight and it wasn’t long before the place was pretty much full, and by the time we left, around ten, there didn’t seem to be a free table. A lot of those eating were familiar faces; Laura obviously had a ready-made clientele from being known in MSP, not only as a face around the place but also because she knows what’s what when it comes to operating a restaurant. As for our meal, we decided we would leave trying the pizza to another time and chose from the higher end of the menu, and were very happy. It looks like we have another place to add to our growing list.

The whole of today, you may be surprised to hear, has been spent at LCDDB. “What, no beach walk!” you cry. “Has the logistics of parking finally beaten you down?” No, but the weather has. With a forecast of 30° by 10 am, we thought walking along the beach in full sun might be a little on the silly side, even allowing for the possibility of a sea breeze, and a beach walk would mean Stephen ironing in the afternoon when it was hitting the mid-thirties, which would have definitely been silly. At least Bella and Harry were happy to have us home all day – on the odd occasion they found the energy to raise their heads off the cooling marble tiles that is. We, unfortunately, didn’t have that luxury – but don’t think we weren’t tempted.