Short but sweet

4th December 2022

After an eventful couple of weeks, this past one has been a welcome return to a more measured and unexciting (at least for those members of the Webster-Firth household not caught up in the cut and thrust of the international shoe business) pace of life.

Actually, that is maybe not quite true for Harry, who, following his illness and convalescence is once again thinking he’s ruling the roost, demanding attention and barking at the birds who have the audacity to perch on the telephone wires. Stephen took him to see the vet on Monday, as we had planned, who gave him a clean bill of health. He said to stop the tablets but to keep the eye drops going for a couple of days just to be safe, which we almost managed before they ran out on Wednesday morning. He also said that he had been thinking about the eye infection and was wondering if it was a reaction to the first lot of antibiotics, the ones administered by injection. That might make sense as it would explain how quickly it cleared up when they stopped.

What else of import happened?

Not much really, but Stephen did manage to pay the road tax on the Renegade on Monday morning, just within the period of grace. He had tried to do so the week before but, as we should have really known, there was no cash in the bank machine next door when he went to the insurance office. It was also a matter of finding the time, as his week, as I mentioned, has been busy. Thursday morning he had to be in Civitanova for 7.45, meaning an even earlier rise than usual for all of us, but we had our reward with a trip to the pub in the evening to catch up with Marco and Maddalena over burger and chips, with clean plates all round.

Friday morning saw a change to the usual routine as, with scant regard to his regulars, Rocco is going to be away next Friday, taking advantage of the holiday weekend to fly to Bucharest. We double booked, as Stephen missed last week with being in Milan and another two weeks would mean my flowing locks would do just that: flow. Rocco did apologise, not for abandoning us but for having had to put up his prices. Given that they have been static for several years, and the current cost of running a business, he can be forgiven – for that, at any rate.

This morning was another relatively early start as we headed for the big Conad in Cuore Adriatico to stock up on a few things, not so much with an eye to Christmas but on saving a few euro here and there and on gin - but only two bottles which will last us well into the new year, so there’s no need to grass me up to Santa. The facsimile of him that dominated the centre’s Christmas display was somewhat on the large size, and the idea of me standing between his legs to have my picture taken tickled Stephen no end, for some reason.