Is that all there is?

29th January 2023

If you thought last week was a slow news week, as Bachman Turner Overdrive so aptly put it, you ain’t seen nothing yet. Still, for what it’s worth, here we go.

The week started quietly with the most notable moment being when Stephen arrived home at the ridiculously early hour of 6 pm. It must have been because he was hurrying home before he ran out of petrol as the next day, when he commandeered the Renegade for the afternoon, I was left with the Panda which, he informed me before leaving, was down to two bars on the gauge and the warning light was showing. He later said that he had forgotten that I needed the car to get to a lesson, which is easy to say after the event.

Not wanting the car to stutter to a halt when next it was taken out, I stopped at the garage to put in a spot of petrol and was all geared to use the self-service pump when Paolo appeared, even though he was supposed to be on strike, we think, meaning I had to pay the premium for sitting in the car and being waited on. I thought €10 would be enough to keep us going, but when I set off the warning light was still on, and the bars were still at two as I had not factored in how little one got with the current price of diesel. It reminded me of all those years ago when I was but a lad and my grandparents were staying with us. My dad suggested that he take us out for a run, (imagine, a world where you got in a car and drove around to look at the scenery just for the pleasure of it and then went home again) and Granny Webster said she’d buy a pint of petrol – which, allowing for inflation, would probably have got us further than my €10.

On the positive side, Thursday saw the solving of a long-standing mystery when it was discovered why Stephen’s emails to me from his work account were not arriving when I had the inspiration to ask him what address he was using. It transpired that he had omitted a single letter, which when you are dealing with email is of significance. He amended this, meaning that in the afternoon I was swamped with an avalanche (if that is not a mixed metaphor) of belated correspondence. Fortunately for me, it was well past its best before date so I could happily ignore it.

He was again home betimes on Friday, and arrived with an embarrassing array of Forneria Totò’s finest Carnevale treats – more than enough to last two people for four or five days, or, in our case, three. Yesterday was another gastronomic treat, and a first, when we daringly ventured out on a Saturday night to go to dinner. I had suggested this earlier in the week, but we were a little stuck as to where to go as, given that it is January, a lot of restaurants are closed for their annual recuperation. Then inspiration struck. Bertrando’s nice assistant had been to Löwengrube, the German bierstube in Civitanova, and had recommended it highly.

Stephen was very excited, nor was he disappointed. While there was a definite Munich bierkeller vibe to the furniture, the actual building and interior was more urban chic, with lots of glass and metal. The menu was extensive, which suggests that it was not all fresh food cooked to order, but given that limitation and the fact that it was part of a very extensive chain, the quality was good enough that we would happily return. There were no complaints about my ham hock, which was generous enough that Stephen was able to help me finish it after he had polished off his leberkäse (a sort of pork meatloaf). Nor were we disappointed with the Black Forest gateau for dessert, which reassuringly owed more to Iceland (the supermarket, not the country) than Bavaria and therefore completed the evening perfectly.

I would have ended there, on a positive note, had we not received devastating news this afternoon from Maddalena – her sister, the veterinary nurse, has moved to Como. This is not completely out of the blue as that is where her boyfriend of long-standing lives. But that is not the bad news. The bad news is that with her departure the vet, who is some way past retirement age, has decided to call it a day. This means that we have to find another, but vets are not as easy to come by as in the UK. Maddalena is on the case, and currently the favourite is a vet in Corridonia (20 minutes by car but where do we park?). This is, according to her sister, ok for injections – but, the implication is, what about anything more serious? I guess we’ll just have to have serious words with Bella and Harry about their fondness for base jumping.