Power sharing

16th January 2022

So, let’s start with the good news (which, I realise, implies there is bad news to come, but in a spoiler alert you can relax, there isn’t), despite at least two more brief power cuts overnight, the oven still seemed to be working on Monday morning. The snow that fell late on Sunday only hung around till midday on Monday, meaning the road out was easily passable should you have a 4x4 Panda Cross. What was less passable was the area of the lane on the level of the water table, which, with the recent rain and snow filtering down through the fields, is particularly squelchy. So far it has not managed to suck the wellies off my feet, nor have I skidded onto my backside, but I am taking things gingerly just in case.

Monday afternoon saw Stephen at a summit meeting at a local factory, one that makes ladies’ shoes, as they, as well as bff Manuel, have been putting pressure on him to help them with their latest range. Despite Stephen protesting for several days beforehand that it was not his area of expertise, all others involved were either (a) totally overawed by his general fabulousness in all things shoe, or (b) utterly desperate that they eventually wore him down enough to agree to this meeting. Once they got him there a three-line whip resulted in him agreeing to do what he can – which may or may not be an awful lot seeing as with that fabled Italian forward planning he has three weeks to do it in. Good luck, I say.

After paying the water bill and being shouted at by some man who wasn’t Paolo behind the counter at the Post Office (how was I supposed to hear him say the price of the stamp for the card for the UK when he was not speaking clearly through his mask, especially as it was over twice what we usually pay so the 2 euro coin didn’t cover the cost and also why was it more when it’s always €1.25 when Paolo does it?) and breakfast at Pina, it was on to Conad for the usual Tuesday morning shopping trip, where we bumped into our friend, Samuele. This was fortuitous, as I was able to confirm with him that Diego (his son) and Andrea were ok to restart lessons that afternoon.

They were, and what wonderful students they are to have for as I was leaving Diego went into the kitchen and reappeared with a foil tray from the freezer. “Dad told me to give you this,” he said, before going on to emphasise more than once that I had to put it in our own freezer when I got home – he must have been under strict instructions from Samuele as to what to say. So what was it? Homemade vincisgrassi, made by Samuele’s mother, and very welcome too. Vincisgrassi is a Marche speciality, being similar to lasagne but made with many more layers, and is a truly fine thing.

Wednesday afternoon should have seen Stephen return to the new factory to start weaving his magic, but unfortunately his magic let him down with the Freeclimber. His sixth sense failed to tell him that he had left the lights on when he returned before lunch, meaning the car wouldn’t start, and as I needed the Panda in the afternoon there was nothing for it but to put the battery on charge and do some ironing. On the plus side, being at home meant that when I returned from my lesson he was available to install the new printer that I had picked up, in a slight detour, from the Carellis.

We needed a new printer because January is obviously the month of things going wrong and laying out money. When Stephen tried to use the old one on Monday afternoon it refused to work (in sympathy with the oven, no doubt), and flashed a code (see previous). On looking this up, Stephen found it signified that the ink absorbent tray was full and needed replacing, for which you had to call the service centre. Working on the basis that: a. it might take long enough for someone to come out (see previous); b. we would have to pay for a new part plus time and labour; c. it was six years old and was bought as a fairly cheap stopgap when we arrived in Italy; and d. a functioning printer was sort of essential for both our work, we decided that the only solution was Amazon. Our new model was more than we really wanted to pay, but it looks very nice, is quicker and quieter, and should be more economical both on ink and paper (being able to print double-sided) so really it will save us money in the long run. We believe that anyway.

Although the Freeclimber had been on charge all Wednesday afternoon, Stephen didn’t want to risk it on his delayed visit to the new factory on Thursday morning, the idea of being stranded in Porto Sant’Elpidio come lunchtime not appealing to him, and another few hours linked up to the electricity would make sure the battery was well juiced, wouldn’t it? Well, yes and no. Yes because he was able to get up into the village after lunch to go to the Carellis; no because when it came time to come home it again wouldn’t start.

Next morning, after the obligatory shopping and haircut, we drove round the corner to the factory so Stephen could collect the Freeclimber, which had been plugged into a factory socket overnight. Only we didn’t, as once more the battery was absolutely dead. Home we came, where in that way life has of making it look like it is sniggering up its sleeve at you, we discovered that the electricity had decided to stop working downstairs. Stephen had a quick look at what might be the problem and was able to get the supply back to the office but not to the washing machine or, crucially, to the freezer. Who you gonna call?

Working on the basis that it didn’t fall within the Ghostbusters’ remit, Stephen went for the next best thing and called up bff Manuel. I’m not actually quite sure why, not having thought that expertise in leather and shoes fitted you for figuring out electricity conundrums, but to give him his due he came, he saw and after some twenty minutes he conquered. The problem lay, it transpired, in the lights we have attached to the back wall to illuminate that part of the garden.

Theoretically, these are motion sensitive, but it is some time since they gave up that as a silly idea and one of them is almost constantly on while the other refuses to come on at all – and it was this second one that was the culprit, as its waterlogged workings had fused and put the kibosh on that area of the circuit. Electricity was restored once the lights were disconnected from the supply, meaning that Bella and Harry will have to struggle in the dark should they need an evening comfort break but, more importantly, we won’t have to eat two weeks’ worth of defrosted meals in one sitting.

It was more fun for Stephen in the afternoon when I ran him up to the factory for a Zoom meeting and a check on the battery situation, though neither was all that cooperative. His curated Zoom meeting with a customer in Canada was put on hold as the person at the other end wasn’t able to set up the connection. The battery was also still unresponsive. Stephen said later that he thought it was because the socket the Carellis had used didn’t work, but of course politeness dictated that he couldn’t say that to them. Instead, with nothing else to do given the postponed meeting, the three men set about seeing what they could sort out.

The first idea of using the factory van to jump start the Freeclimber proved more puzzling than anticipated as (and those with more knowledge can fill in the missing details here as I do not have them at my fingertips, nor am I really bothered about them) being a Mercedes, the battery is different to a standard one, and not just because it is under the front seat, meaning there was nothing to attach the clips to. A bit of investigation under the bonnet and on the Internet, however, directed them to a small metal bar (negative) and a large red knob (positive) which did the trick.

Skipping to the main point, they eventually jump-started the car and Stephen drove it home. It was on charge again all day yesterday and then this afternoon as a quick trial he used it to ferry the bin for tomorrow’s collection up to the top of the road. He is now planning to use it tomorrow to go to the factory in Porto Sant’Elpidio, so we better have something for lunch that won’t spoil if it has to be kept warm.

We will round up of the recalcitrant behaviour of things electrical by returning to where we started and the oven. With the display continuing to show the clock and not a FAIL warning all week, even after Friday’s interruption while the men worked on downstairs, things boded well for the weekend and indeed Stephen’s potato wedges that accompanied our homemade turkey burgers for dinner last night were up to the usual standard. This meant, of course, that we were able to treat ourselves to Samuele’s mother’s vincisgrassi for lunch today, which was truly deliziosissimi, polishing the whole lot off between the pair of us even though the container lid stated it was a four-portion size. In which world? Certainly not Italy or, for that matter, La Casa dei Due Baffi.