In sync

12th September 2021

Although the weather continued fine all week, settling into that very pleasing September pattern of a chilly start giving way to a warm, if not indeed hot, day as the sun hits its stride around mid-morning, Stephen finally signalled the end of the summer vegetables by clearing away what remained of the tomato plants on Monday. All is not lost on the fruit front, however, as the fig trees are now well into production. We have also managed to salvage a few bunches of grapes – not that these were at risk from the weather. Rather we have to shear most of them off the vines as Bella will try to eat whatever she can, either by leaping up at any within grabbing distance or, as Stephen discovered one afternoon, standing on a convenient pile of wood to reach them.

Nor was Stephen the only one clearing out some dead wood as Mario and Luigi appeared in the afternoon to take away the two trees that had come down in the winds a few weeks ago, and which I had manoeuvred to the side of the road. They also chopped down and removed the third dead tree of the triumvirate, leaving a bit of a gap, but at least avoiding any untoward predicaments in the future.

We also got round to a long overdue task on Tuesday morning for while the weather was continuing fine Stephen thought that it might be an idea to go up into the attic room in the west wing of the building and close the window in the east-facing gable end that had blown open sometime during the summer. This is not quite as easy as it sounds as the only way to get into this room, which if we were being grand we could claim to be the third floor of the house, is via the door flying solo under the eaves above the terrazzo.

My part in all this was guardian of the ladder, holding it while Stephen clambered up, worked open the bar keeping the door closed and then scrambling into the room. Then, after filling up his makeshift pulley system (a bag on the end of a piece of rope) with the required materials, I hung around for the next half an hour in case I was needed. In this time, Stephen had closed the window (noting that the rotting frame will need to be replaced at some point in the near or not too distant future), covering the inside with plastic sheeting before also covering over the small window looking out to the front of the house and securing the pane of glass in the window facing the back of the house, the one that rattles in the night over our bedroom when the wind is blowing in that direction.

That all completed, and having accumulated 30 active minutes on my Fitbit circling the terrazzo while I waited and failing to hear his cry of distress when he accidentally poked himself in the eye with a pair of scissors (no lasting harm done), it was back to best performance in a supporting role as I held the ladders for Stephen to come back down, the really hard bit. Once he had again performed the balancing act on the top rung, this time to shoot the bolt back into place as the last thing we need (and which has happened before) is the door blowing open in a squall.

It was business as usual over the next couple of days, though Stephen keeping the grass in reasonable trim came to a halt when he moved the mower to the front of the house, and it refused to start – though maybe spraying it with what he thought was WD-40 but which was in fact wasp killer may not have helped. We have also taken some steps finally to find a kennel to take the dogs for a night or two and maybe even longer, as with travel opening up again it would be good to be able to explore further afield. We think we have found somewhere that looks promising and have tentatively arranged to visit it next week, though at almost an hour’s travel time it is not exactly on the doorstep – but that’s what happens when you’re choosy.

And so to the weekend, which ended up a bit of a whirlwind when for the first time since before you know what we had an overnight houseguest: Claudio, my conversation partner from Rome. We told him, when we floated the idea of him coming to visit the other week, that the quickest way was for him to get a train to Foligno and we would meet him there as it was only, said Stephen, forty minutes by car. Unfortunately, he had a bit of time to wait for us as when I turned on the directions on my ‘phone for something to do on the journey, and to prepare for navigating to the station, the journey time in total was just over seventy minutes. Not that it’s like Stephen to make mistakes where numbers are concerned – and on a journey he had already done several times in the past. “Well, it feels like forty minutes,” he said in his defence.

At least it was a nice morning, so Claudio could sit in the sunshine, and we were still back home in time for a lunch of sandwiches with a cup of tea, which he found engagingly British. Then, after a little sit down, we had an afternoon tour of Monte San Pietrangeli, taking in such highlights as caffè at Pina, ice cream from Bar del Borgo and several stops to admire the view. We had wondered beforehand where we could take him in the afternoon, forgetting that to someone who has never been here before that a walk through the centre and then around the periphery of the older part is as interesting as any other of the small towns – and some of the bigger ones too – of the area.

Taking in the view was also part of what decided us to have dinner at Oasi Belvedere, that and treating Claudio to some traditional local cooking. Being September, though we booked to eat at the unfashionably early, by Marche standards, time of 7.30, and arriving at 7.15, before the tables were even set, we were just that little too late to witness the sunset over the mountains. The panorama, though, was still impressive as was the quantity of food. Even though we took the precaution of ordering antipasto for two to share between three, as we did also for the main of grigliata mista, with a primo of a mound of tagliatelle with wild boar ragu the word stuffed took on a new meaning.

Our Sunday walk was very much needed after that, though with a visitor we were not able to strike out at such a demanding pace as Claudio preferred a more leisurely turn on the lungamare rather than the sand, the better to absorb the ambiance of a Marche seaside town. We covered less than half the distance that we usually do, but at least our visitor continued to enjoy pretending to be English (as he kept telling people he was, in English, in bars and shops) when he rolled up his trouser legs and went paddling.

This didn’t prevent us from carbohydrate packing at lunchtime after stopping at Marie Teresa in MSP on the way back for more local delicacies – olive all’ascolana, crema, frittura, lasagne and enough cannelloni if not for an army then at least the odd battalion, as Claudio (who kindly footed the bill) said he hadn’t had cannelloni since his mother used to make as they don’t make it properly in Rome. The good news is that there are enough leftovers for our lunch tomorrow, though not much in the way of the fried things as Claudio managed to work his way through those with alarming ease for one of such a svelte figure.

Almost before we had caught our breath, it was back on the autostrada to Foligno for the return train to Rome. Being wiser, as the train, unlike our visitor, would not wait patiently for us, we allowed more than enough time to get there – too much in fact, as when we got to the station with what we thought was a good twenty minutes to spare it was to find that Claudio had made a mistake with the departure time, and he actually had forty minutes to wait. Next time he comes to visit I think I need to have both his and Stephen’s itineraries in triplicate so I can check everything is in order – or maybe not, because then if anything goes wrong it will be my responsibility, when we all know a condescending silence is much more satisfying.