Measuring up

2nd February 2025

Monday should have been an exciting day as Irene was coming in the morning with a man with a drone to measure the exterior of the house… except it wasn’t.

Stephen received a message just after breakfast from Irene saying that the man had forgotten to charge the battery (no comment), so it would be the next day instead, and would take about an hour.

Stephen picked them up shortly after ten (we had to do the shopping first), and what a disappointment. The batteries were charged and the measurements were taken, but after all this build up there was no drone in sight. Instead, it was the same young man as before with the same scanning box on a tripod which he positioned at various points around the outside of the house and measured.

Afterwards, Irene said that they had all the information they needed now. She also, before he went to work leaving me as taxi service, told Stephen that all the documents have been approved by the Commune and that Loris the builder is still short of builders, but we are in the queue. As for the geologist, she said she would chase him up, and indeed she sent a message the next day that he will be coming “next week”.

I had my second conversation with Nicola from Milan, as enjoyable as the first, on Wednesday morning, during which, naturally enough, talk turned to what we were each doing at the weekend. I said that we would be going to the Sunday market, part of the celebrations of San Biaggio (or Saint Blaise if you prefer, even though that sounds like a racehorse), il patrono di Monte San Pietrangeli, as Monday was his feast day.

He looked him up, confirming the date (like MSP would make a mistake…) saying that in Milan, the 3rd of February is when panettone are two for the price of one as they sell off what’s left over from Christmas. Here, if you go to the evening mass, you get a piece of bread, blessed to ward off bad throats. I guess personal circumstances will determine which you find a more attractive offer.

Thursday, I had my return visit to the dentist for Claudia to do a couple of little jobs, but more notable news was on the lesson front. Firstly there was Sara, the daughter of Luca, my speaking partner on Ischia, with whom I have done some work in the past. She has asked if I can do some speaking with her as, surprise surprise, the Cambridge course she is following at school has lots of exercises but no talking. We are to meet twice a week for half an hour each time, so really it’s just getting together for a nice chat.

The other, with Luca and Matteo, came a bit out of the blue. We know Luca quite well, especially Stephen as he is the son of an old work colleague and has known him since he was a boy. He is looking for lessons as he missed out recently on a new job because, while he did well in the interview overall, he came a bit of a cropper when faced with a 20-minute presentation in English. This is now more or less di rigueur with any company of note, but a bit of a problem for anyone whose command of the language is school level transactional. No pressure then, getting him up to a level where he can work for an international corporation.

As for Matteo, also keen to improve for his work, an interesting thing came up while Stephen was negotiating terms and conditions with Luca.  He mentioned that Matteo is a geologist but is currently incapacitated because of a snapped tendon. Yes, it is our man with the drone, or not as it turned out. At least I know he has plenty of free time currently to study.

With things being slow on the work front, Stephen was home by lunchtime on Friday and used his time more profitably in the afternoon by cleaning both the cars – though maybe he wouldn’t have found it such a chilly job if he’d put on a warm jacket. I was less then sympathetic when he complained yesterday that he had vague feelings of flu-like symptoms, especially as we were out to dinner at Marco and Maddalena’s in the evening.

Fortunately, they didn’t develop into anything as it was also Harry’s big test. Maddalena suggested we take him with us so he and Mia could get to know each other. We were a little tentative, but it all worked out all right. Harry was a little star; he trotted in, lapped up Marco and Maddalena’s attention and more or less ignored Mia as she leapt about the back of the settee barking at him. There was some sniffing around as well, but that was as far as fraternisation went, and peace was restored when Mia finally settled down.

One of the reasons we were invited rather than go out was to sample Marco’s wine, which he has been making with his friend Samuele. There were two on offer, both red and similar in production but one was marked “0” and the other “2”, signifying that one was a little stronger than the other but I got confused as to which was which. They were more than drinkable, and with a splash of water added made acceptable vino da tavola, so we were happy to take home the two bottles he offered us. The only drawback was when Stephen came to transfer them from the plastic bottles Marco had used, which were 1.5 litres, to our litre glass ones the next day. Rather than end up with two half-bottles we have one bottle of each and one of a mixture. We know how to live life on the edge.

As I mentioned (see above), we took our annual stroll round St Biagio’s market this morning, which after a dullish and misty start was clear and crisp and sunny so perfect for an airing. There seemed to be a few more stalls again, and while not up to pre-you know what days, there seem to have been a couple more stalls added each year. Unfortunately for us, the kitchenware man was missing this time and he was the only one we needed. It was from him that we bought our first scolapasta, the tear-shaped sieve-like instrument for transferring the cooked pasta into the pan with the waiting sauce. After nine years of almost daily use, the handle has decided to come apart and so we were all ready to buy a new one, but we will now have to cast our net wider.

We didn’t come away empty handed, though, as the pro loco had again set up their stall selling caciù, this time outside the middle school rather than having them ferried down to the market. We took ten to see us over the next couple of days, four crema, four chocolate and two fava. These last, if you recall, are stuffed with a broad bean mixture and are Stephen’s favourite (yes, I know, but there you are). They must be others’ favourites too as we had to wait a couple of minutes for ones to come fresh and hot from the school kitchen where volunteers were busy making them. Stephen was delighted, clutching the warm bag to his chest where, as my granny used to say, the smell was going round his heart like a hairy worm. Rather him than me.