Tote that bale

30th May 2021

Stephen started the week as he finished the last one, that is with no adverse reactions to his jab meaning it was business as usual on Monday. Or almost, as part of the morning’s pressing work involved another trip with Nazareno to the large nursery just past Cassette D’Ete. This time Stephen came back with aubergine, pepper and maize plants, which he got into the ground that afternoon along with some hot peppers. These, though, seem to be of great attraction to our local gourmet ant population for by the end of the week they were looking very sorry for themselves.

Nor was Stephen the only person with matters horticultural on his mind as Mario and Luigi had a few busy days around the barn. These started off with ferrying hay bales down the lane for storage, bales that this year have an elegant variation. Previously they have been large cubes, which provided a convenient dining spot for our recent wood choppers. This time they are large rolls, which were brought one at a time speared onto the prongs of the tractor before being deposited in the barn till the next day when the tractor was again in operation arranging them in an orderly fashion – and all this done with only a modicum of raised voices, something of a first for Italy.

They were back on Wednesday as with the new season’s straw in situ they obviously decided that something had to be done about the leaking corrugated iron roof. What this something was, was covering almost all of it with a swathe of plastic sheeting (not quite big enough – they will have to rethink their foraging) and weighing it down with a criss-cross of ropes with a large stone tied securely (we hope) to each end of each one. I’m more then certain that what I assume is a tried and tested traditional method, especially where metal is concerned, is totally safe and has nothing whatsoever to do with why I have been keeping Bella and Harry well away when we pass on our walks.

As for me, my week got off to a very busy start, especially on Tuesday when I ended up with four lessons. That is unlikely to happen again, at least in the near future, as it was Laura’s last one before she takes her summer break and as of June Ilaria in Ischia is moving to every other week. The reason for the extra lesson was that I received a message at lunchtime asking if I was able to do Marzia and Diego that afternoon as they were going to Milan for a few days on Wednesday.

Ever obliging I was able to fit them in, and when I saw them I asked how they were able to go away for a few days during the school term, and the answer highlighted one of (if not the only) benefit of distance learning. As this was their week for online lessons it didn’t really matter where they were so they could travel to Milan to visit Marzia’s siblings who are at university there and log on. But what about tomorrow, I asked, don’t you have lessons? And this was the really clever part. The only one was history and as it was audio with no visual connection or interaction required, they could do it on the train.

After a busy start to the week, the end of it was much quieter, so what did we do to fill the time? Well, for a start, a knock on from the Mogliani brothers hanging around the barn was that Luigi offered to help Stephen shift some more of the leaves amassed round the side and back of the house. That is why on Wednesday afternoon before I headed off to my lesson I spent half an hour heaving armfuls of the stuff over the fence by the garage. Whilst I was away, Luigi came in the tractor and two or three trips transferred the mound to below the copse on the lane where they were piled next to the field. The last we heard, Luigi, who is partial to the odd bonfire, said he might set light to them over the next couple of days or leave them till October, depending on what he agreed with Mario. So far they are still there.

Stephen started the biannual wardrobe changeover on Thursday afternoon and finished it the following afternoon, though a little later than he had anticipated. He had left four pairs of my summer shoes out for me to check before he recycled them, and when I said I wanted to keep a pair of trainers he wondered why as I never wore them. That’s because, I explained, all my shoes are in plastic boxes at the bottom of the wardrobe and I don’t know what’s there so I just end up wearing the same couple of handy pairs. All went very quiet while I got on with my daily chat with my dad but I did detect a certain frisson in the air, or maybe I was just mistaking a sense of purpose.

Whatever it was, when I finished the chat and went into the spare room, it was to find a stack of Perspex shoe boxes against one of the wardrobes with several more arranged neatly inside the other. Inside each box was a pair of shoes, or in the case of espadrilles or flip-flops, a couple of pairs, and on the outside a laminated printed picture of what was inside. Now I have no excuse for failing to use the full gamut of my shoe collection, or in failing to fully appreciate what a gem I am married to.

Unlike so many weekends in recent memory, yesterday we took the opportunity of the increasing opening up of daily life to take a trip to Corridomnia – another place that has been absent from these pages for far too long. You may not regard it as the most glamorous of places, especially when you find out that our main destination was Risparmio Casa to stock up on cleaning materials, but it was very exciting for us, even more so when you throw in a quick visit to the Chinese supermarket.

We also found time to pop into OVS for a look round as I was in need of a couple of pairs of new shorts. Thanks to our enforced dietary regime I have, since we started, lost 5 kilos and counting, meaning the shorts that were a little loose last year are more than likely to end up round my ankles at some inopportune moment. Not that I can get too self-satisfied about my new svelte figure, for if there is any lighting designed to make all your untoward lumps and bumps stand out in grim relief it is that used in clothes shop changing rooms. Combine that with the minefield of wading through the creative sizing – why is it that of three different pairs of shorts labelled as the same size, one wouldn’t meet around my waist, one would have had me singing soprano in the choir and the other fitted perfectly – and you could forgive me for giving it up as a bad job. However, I had my secret weapon, my personal shopper who managed to find me not only two pairs of shorts but also a lightweight short-sleeved shirt that matched perfectly with one of them. What with those and an ease of suitable footwear selection, I am fully expecting to be looking to advantage on the balmy summer evenings to come.