Present and correct

25th September 2022

After a couple of action-packed (relatively speaking) weeks, things quietened down considerably on Monday, as they usually do when Stephen is in Milan taking the shoe world by the scruff of the neck.

With the various household matters on hold till his return, there was little for me to do other than general domestic duties, dog walking (and boy, the steps you can rack up when you’re out five times a day) and all things lesson linked. I did find time on Tuesday morning to go and pick up my new licence from Scuola Europa, which must have been there a while as they phoned me up on Saturday morning to remind me. You will be as relieved as I was to know that when the nice man handed it over, he confirmed that it was valid until my birthday 2027, so that is one thing at least we can forget about for the next five years.

It was also on Tuesday, as I was sitting being good in the office, that Stephen phoned to say the man who checks the fire extinguishers was waiting for me at the top of the road. If you recall, (and really, why should you?) two visits ago, after his van which had been changed from a “go anywhere Fiat” to a “I’m not having any truck with that hill Ford” got stuck on our road, it had been decided that it would be easier for all concerned if we ferried the extinguishers to the mister man. I duly collected the two appliances from the outside cupboard, hoisted them into the back of the Panda and drove up the hill. The man took them out, checked them (which seemed to consist mainly of giving them a hard stare), updated his forms and wrote on the labels on the extinguishers. In a matter of a couple of minutes they were back in the car, as was I, and we headed home to return them to their cupboard. So much easier than having to involve a tractor, especially as now, with my new licence, I can’t help in the towing department.

Of course, the main event of the week, as heralded by my new driving licence, was my birthday on Thursday, though with Stephen in Milan till the next day it was on the quiet side. Not that I am complaining, because I had my cards to open, which Poste Italiane had managed to deliver in time, as well as three goodie bags with various little gifts that Stephen had left for me to find in the bedside cabinet, and being on my own meant I could just drift through the day. If it doesn’t sound very exciting, that’s because it wasn’t, but then sometimes the best thing to do is to do nothing at all.

Friday night saw Stephen return and my usual trip to collect him from the station, taking the opportunity to wear the new mechanics cap, with the judicious imperative on the front to “Get handsome”, that had been one of my presents the day before (and if you are not sure what one of those is, think baseball cap but more butch). I duly cut off the label before setting out, but it wasn’t till I handed it to Stephen when we got back in the car at Civitanova that I felt something small and hard and plastic near the crown. Further examination proved it to be the hook used to hang it on the display stand, which had I known was still there it might have caused embarrassment on the station platform, but seeing as in my ignorance I wore the cap with debonair elan I think I might well have set a new trend – and if you see this being emulated by the young and stylish, you’ll know where it started.

As a belated birthday treat, Stephen offered to take me for aperitivo to Art Asylum in Fermo, which shows it must have been a special occasion, there being no market to supply any other excuse for going. And there lies the rub, as with the markets having finished the owners had decided to take their annual holiday for when we arrived it was to find a notice on the door saying it was closed for two weeks, reopening on the 29th September. We reckoned five days was a bit long to hang around in the Piazza del Popolo, so we reverted to Plan B: Totò. I tried not to be too disappointed, and at least it meant Stephen could make up for his lack of organisational skills by buying one of their remarkably fine apple and sultana crostate to take home to extend the celebration; there are very few things in life, I find, that can’t be improved by the addition of short crust pastry.