Silver linings

5th December 2021

If last week’s blog made little demand on your time, this week’s will make even less, the past seven days seeing little other than the usual doings – not that there was much of those either.

Having said that, the week did get off to a notable start with Stephen off for his booster jab after breakfast and back before the clock reached double figures. From what he said, the set up was somewhat less regimented than last time, which I suppose is unsurprising, with less forming of queues in an orderly manner (or as near to it that an Italian can get) in a pared down setting.

The doctor, having noted that the last time Stephen had been given the Johnson and Johnson, said that the Moderna would be the best one to mix with it, making it seem like he was working up a new cocktail at Harry’s Bar. Stephen, perhaps rather cynically, thought it had more to do with what was available and in what quantities than a balance of complimenting ingredients for optimum effect.

Whichever, after sailing through last time on this occasion he did feel decidedly wobbly for a couple of days, though in true Stephen fashion he denied that he was feeling anything other than a little off and proved this by doing just as much, if not more, than usual. He did admit that his arm and shoulder were particularly sore and stiff, especially where the needle had gone in, a condition not helped by him sporting an impressive burn on the forearm. This was a trophy from his weekend’s ironing duties when he had decided that for good measure he would give part of his forearm a bit of a press. He is nothing if not thorough.

My week, at least part of it, found itself cancelled. The first casualties were my two Wednesday lessons, due to work commitments, followed by my Thursday morning one, due to, and I quote, a dangerous contact. As the student also said in his message that he was going for a swab, I assumed it was to do with you know what rather than a member of the 'Ndrangheta. The worst, though, was still to come, when I received a message from Rocco saying that he had also been in the company of a positive person (strange how phrases change their meaning) and so had to cancel my hair appointment for Friday morning. And some people still don’t take the situation seriously…

It’s just as well we had no social commitments for this weekend, for how would I have been able to fulfil them without giving my Vittorio de Sica vibe? Instead, we again spent the time in and around LCDDB where yesterday Stephen made a start on this year’s Christmas decorations, though with an unexpected result.

He had asked a few days earlier whether I was very bothered about putting up the Christmas tree as he was just not feeling it this year. I can see his point, it is a great commitment, the way we (meaning he) do it, arranging the myriad of baubles and decorations we’ve accumulated in balanced perfection. Finding a spot for the tree to

stand is another moot point, there not being an accommodating niche where it won’t be in the way while still being something to catch the eye. His solution was to go minimal with some locally sourced (i.e. from the lane) branches sprayed silver which would stand in an elegant vase and bear a select number of ornaments.

What could go wrong? I was to find out yesterday afternoon when Stephen set to with his spraying and I set to giving the sink and drainer their weekly good going over. I was about halfway through my scouring when he appeared in the kitchen, hands covered in silver paint, due to the top of the aerosol “shearing off” (his words) mid-job, leaving to paint to shoot out like a cascade from a Roman candle (also his words). How did it stop, I asked, when it ran out? Yes, he replied maybe a trifle ruefully, but not, apparently, till after he had manged to sort of aim the uncontrolled spray to finish the job. Just as well he was doing it in the room we call a garage, and also just as well we had a bottle of nail vanish remover (no, I don’t know why) lurking in a cupboard for him to clean off his hands.

Just because we didn’t venture far from home, it doesn’t mean there are not still pleasures to be had, even if they are of a somewhat unassuming sort. Take our dinner tonight: yesterday we made a batch of braised red cabbage, with an elegant variation to the trusted recipe I have used for countless years from Delia’s How to Cook book, after we heard someone mentioning that he put fresh ginger in his. So we did too, along with some juliennes of lemon peel for good measure because we are just those sort of guys. The result was fabulously warming and comforting, especially when paired with baked potatoes done in the fire and one of Pia’s pork chops, cut especially thick for the British palate. Going out? It’s well overrated.