The sweet life

23rd April 2023

This week started with a red-letter day, or red card day might be more appropriate, as Monday was Stephen’s birthday. He did have to spend most of it at work, but there was time to open cards and presents over breakfast (the latter were from Bella and Harry, mine being the new MacBook he has been using for a few weeks now). We managed a quick lunch together, shortened by work restraints on both sides, before reconvening shortly after 7 to put on our glad rags and head to Pomod’oro, being a favourite spot and one of the few places actually open on a Monday evening. We went the whole hog, antipasti, primo, secondo and dolce, as well as a generous glass of something fizzy and a bottle of wine, of which Stephen drank most seeing as I was on driving duties given that it was his treat.

(On a side note, it was also somewhat appropriate that our destination was Pomod’oro, given that we had just started a new lunchtime reading book, Ten Tomatoes that Changed the World: A History by William Alexander, highly recommended, and whose first chapter talks a lot about how dreadfully misjudged the tomato was in Italy, and how it took three hundred years before people stopped thinking it was a poisonous food of the devil and became synonymous with the country’s cuisine. Back to the main plot.)

Monday night was the start of a whirl of hedonistic pleasure, at least by our standards, which continued on Tuesday when we went to Marco and Maddalena’s for cake (+ candle in Stephen’s case) and a bottle of fizz, and a present for Stephen all the way from Lake Como, where they had been over Easter. Having been away, they asked how the Good Friday re-enactment had gone, and what should have been a fairly simple chat hit a hiccup when Maddalena asked what the word is for the vehicle that bears a body. “Hearst” averred Stephen, and refused to believe me when I tried to gently point out his mistake. He sort of accepted he might be wrong after I brought up proof via an Internet search on my phone, but I’m not convinced that he was convinced. It is hard to disabuse a lifetime’s misconception, as so much in life shows us.

There was further reason for celebration on Wednesday, and not because in the current see-sawing of the weather it was both drier and warmer again, but because the parcel that BRT (not, we have found, the most efficient of couriers) had claimed to have tried to deliver twice previously finally made its way into a pair of hands in the office in Montegranaro. According to Stephen, it had a number of stickers, suggesting it had been on a grand tour before reaching its ultimate destination, but that didn’t detract from the general excitement when he opened it to find the last of his birthday presents: four reusable plastic espresso cups, with lids, chosen not only for their style but also to cut down on waste in the office. They brought delight to Cecilia when she discovered that Stephen wouldn’t be taking them home.

There was, however, a feeling of anti-climax the following day, not anything to do with the cups but because the big bosses from Milan, who were theoretically due to arrive to discuss important stuff, kept everybody hanging on. They would seem to have decided not to break a sweat to make it from the big city to the boondocks of Le Marche, setting off fashionably late and stopping at Riccione for a long lunch – long enough so that Stephen made it home for dinner before they arrived, leaving Bertrando to entertain them when they eventually did.

The big bosses eventually made it to the office around 10.45 the next morning, which might seem a little behind schedule but is nothing compared with the letter from LV that I picked up earlier from our post box when returning from our usual shopping/haircut trip, which was dated 3rd March. Their arrival was the signal for Cecilia to make a quick dash from Montegranaro to MSP to pick up a shipping order of fried things from Maria Teresa’s pasta shop to form a bit of an appetiser, washed down with a couple of bottles of spumante. She and Stephen were very circumspect, taking only an olive all’ascolana each before tucking into their own packed lunches while Bertrando and the Milano Two headed off for lunch.

I would have been completely unaware of all this if it wasn’t for the fact that not long after 2 o’clock, just as I had settled down to do some bits and pieces on the laptop, Stephen phoned asking for help as the company car had broken down. Yes, we have been here before. Foolishly I had thought we had seen the end of such things when we waved goodbye to the Freeclimber, but it seems that Fiat Puntos are just as susceptible to clutch cables breaking. He phoned me because Bertrando was still at lunch (it is Italy, remember), so I gathered my stuff together while Stephen sent me their location via WhatsApp. I was slightly puzzled when it arrived, as it said they were three minutes away on Contrada Forone and not somewhere in the outskirts of Morrovalle. I’m not sure how he managed this, but it was a good thing he did, for had I not had to wait for the correct one, when he phoned to say that I could stand down as Bertrando was coming after all, I would have been riding like the wind to the rescue, rather than just getting into the car.

That should have been enough excitement for one day, but no. In the evening, we met up with Computer Luca, whom we had not seen since before Christmas, and Shoe Marco, whom we had not seen for even longer, at Thirteen in Civitanova where presents were exchanged (Luca’s birthday being this coming Tuesday) and a general catch up took place. Wine and food there was followed by ice cream in the best place (said Marco) in town. He may well be right as it was very good, but we will have to work our way through the myriad of other gelaterie the metropolis has to offer before coming to a definitive conclusion.

We were back in Civitanova in double-quick time as today saw the start of the three-day plant and flower market on the lungamare, and we thought a stroll and a gander would be a pleasant thing to do on a Sunday morning, especially as the weather was pleasantly warm – warm, that is, for hardened Northern Europeans, not for the many Italians who were still sporting padded jackets. Stephen was on the lookout for some herbs but was not convinced enough by what he saw to purchase, but we did buy some little cacti for inside the house.

And that wasn’t the only things we bought, as Stephen introduced me to a new spot for breakfast when, taking the scenic route through Monte San Giusto to get to the autostrada, we stopped at the very busy Petroselli Pregiata Forneria, somewhere he frequents when accompanying bff Manuel to early morning meetings. This was a very good idea, not just for the morning pastries freshly baked on the premises, but also for the selection of small cakes that we treated ourselves to, to have with our evening coffee. We were going to buy three each, but really, they looked no more than a mouthful so opted in the end for four. It has been such a busy week, we have to make sure we keep our blood sugar levels up.