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With Stephen in Milan it meant even earlier rising for me so I could fit the extra dog duties into my schedule, which is why my alarm went off at 5.30 on Monday morning so I could get everything done and still be in Civitanova for 8 a.m. This I managed with time to spare, but my return was a little delayed as the headmistress wanted to see me. After a cursory enquiry as to how things were going, she got me to populate an on screen document with various details before printing it off and handing it over to me to take home to peruse. This, gentle reader, was my contract, and yes, such is the way of things in Italy: job first; contract second.

I duly took it home, though was somewhat reluctant to sign it till I had had time to look through it with Stephen and to consider, given the less than encouraging start to my life at the school, whether I actually wanted to continue with the job. Something to throw into the mix of these considerations was the gradual return of my private students now we are on the cusp of autumn. On Monday afternoon I received messages from both Daniela and Vanna. The upshot of the first is that it was arranged for lessons with Marzia and Diego to recommence on Friday afternoon, while the result of the second is still in abeyance. The current suggestion there is that we meet at the factory (space at Helen Doran in Montegranaro where we met pre-Covid being at a premium due to current anti-Covid regulations), but that I also do a lesson with a couple of 10 year olds as well.

All of which brings us to Tuesday, a day of very mixed emotions as not only was it my birthday but it was also the day of Mum’s funeral. This took place just before lunchtime at Chesterfield Crematorium, and was broadcast on the crematorium’s website for all those who, like me, were not able to go. There may have only been a handful in attendance in person, but there many more who, due to the webcast, were able to celebrate Mum’s life and to say their final goodbyes.

As for my birthday, while Stephen was not able to be with me, he did share the opening of my presents over breakfast, via FaceTime. He had left a cardboard box for me to open that contained a variety of presents, from a new polo shirt to a Tibetan singing bowl to politically correct tea towels – everything, in fact, that a man could wish for. It was then on with the day, with three lessons to keep my mind occupied, starting with what was probably Giacomo’s last lesson as he had his interview on Wednesday (he didn’t get the job but he did very well, they said, and is now considering his options). It continued after lunch with the first lesson with Ilaria and Sara from Ischia, via Skype, and very charming girls they were too. It seemed to go ok, even given the temporary loss of the signal due to a storm that decided to toss a bit of lightning about part way through.

In the evening it was the return of Laura (without Rocco), and after chewing the fat of the last six months it was down to business with a review of tenses. And if you think that is just too exciting a way to spend one’s birthday evening it got even wilder afterwards when I kicked off my shoes and lounged on the sofa (with Bella and Harry, of course) to eat my dinner and watch TV before finishing the celebration with a little glass of very nice coffee digestivo and a small bar of very fine chocolate, both courtesy of Stephen – two things, I’m sure, of which Mum would have heartily approved.

It was back to the normal routine on Wednesday, which also meant that I had space for thoughts about the job at the bilingual school, and the very decisive conclusion I came to was that I needed some space (as they say nowadays) to consider what I wanted to do about it. I sent the head teacher a message in the morning saying that I wasn’t able to come to the school the next day. I was not surprised to receive no reply to this, nor was I surprised, given the lack of organization, when at around 8.20 on Thursday morning I received a message from one of the teachers asking if I was stuck in traffic. I explained that I had contacted the school the previous day, and did receive a message about half an hour after this from the head asking how I was, though received no acknowledgement of my reply.

This, if it were needed, confirmed that this school was not the place for me and it would be better for both sides if I said farewell and thanks for the fish at this early stage when they could find someone more fitted to their working practices before we got too far into the new school year (which I was told, if you remember, didn’t really start till 1st October). I sent the dirigente another message on Friday morning saying I was not available to teach on Monday but would like an appointment to talk to her, and yes the response to this was, as you might expect, zilch.

Whilst my short-lived career in Civitanova was drawing to a conclusion, things were moving on apace with my private students. When I went for my haircut on Friday morning, Rocco said that he and Antonella wanted to restart the following Wednesday and then in the afternoon, as mentioned, I was back at Montegranaro with Marzia and Diego - in person as opposed a three way Skype hook up. We were, of course, masked and socially distanced at the table in the conservatory, but it was so much easier performing live. Then, on Saturday morning, lessons with Alessio resumed, so it looks like (fingers crossed) I have a decent number of students to keep me busy enough but not too busy.

Saturday was also the day of the return of Stephen. He left Milan in the morning and was due in Civitanova just before 9pm, following a stop off for a check on the shops in Bologna. There was, however, a slight hiccup to all this when realisation dawned on him that maybe he had not quite got his timings right. The first indication was when, as he was on his final leg, he received a text message giving his arrival time at Civitanova as an hour later than he had said. He phoned me to share the joke about the inefficiency of Trenitalia, as the same message said the train was not due in Rimini for another hour and he was already there. “Or at least,” he said, “it’s somewhere beginning with ‘R’.” Well he was partially right, for when he pulled out of the station he passed several signs all telling him that he was leaving Ravenna, an hour away from Rimini. So yes, Trenitalia was correct and Stephen had misread his arrival time by an hour, meaning that our pizza dinner was more like a late supper. Either way, it was good to have him home.

This weekend has also seen a drastic change in the weather following the onset of fierce winds on Friday night that battered around the house till the early hours. Consequently, it was a chillier than usual rising yesterday morning as the outside temperature read 14C, but that was almost tropical compared with this morning’s reading of 11 – not to mention the rain that fell steadily if not heavily for most of the day. Next week is promised to be warmer and sunnier again, but still with an autumnal vibe. Not that this is all bad news, as it was a good excuse to break out the casserole recipes and whip up a batch of Nigella’s pork cooked with prunes, olives and capers.

Before we could settle down to get our chops round that, I eventually had communication with the headmistress from school – though not, I think, at her instigation. Just before 6 this evening I received a text from the Italian teacher to say she had a slight difficulty the next morning and could I stay with the class for another hour rather than hand over to her at 10.30 as per the timetable. Much as the prospect of spending three and a half hours shut up in the same classroom with a bunch of seven-year olds with no respite or adult contact, and spending part of Sunday evening magicking up extra resources, was utterly enticing, I told her about the message I sent on Friday and to which I had had no response.

About an hour later I had a call from the headmistress wanting to know why I was not wanting to teach. I think I said that it was because three hours was way too long, that I had no guidance or support in what I was doing, and that there was no organization, but there again I might just have babbled. Whichever, we did manage to arrange that I will meet with her tomorrow morning at 10.00 to see if we can resolve the situation. I’m sure we can, but maybe not in the way she wants.