Tuca Tuca

11th July 2021

I can say with some satisfaction that when they set about the harvesting of the second field of Mancini wheat on Monday, the one to the left of the house, they managed to complete it without any further recourse to churning up the road. I can say with acceptance, living where we do, that it was somewhere around 11pm, and an hour past our bedtime, before the combine finished its work in Mario and Luigi’s field last night. Falling asleep to the drone of a harvester was not something I ever envisaged when making the move to Le Marche.

It was almost like old times (by which, of course, we mean pre you know what days) when Tuesday saw the start of a social whirl for Stephen and me, though the first phase of it was perhaps more a mixture of the social and the domestic. We went, in the afternoon, to Civitanova – my first visit since whenever – for a spot of window shopping and to bob into Queen Bee, the shop with the wealth of bee-related products. The plan was to have a basket made up for Maddalena’s birthday which, according to Stephen, was on the 8th. It took quite a while as not only had we to decide which honeys to choose, but also the other interesting bits and pieces (candle, honey vinegar, sweets, lip balm, hand cream) to add to the mix. While the nice young assistant was making up the gift box, the owner came in, which passed another 15 minutes as she chatted away about this, that and bees. You’ve heard of slow food and slow television, you can now add slow shopping – and there’s nothing wrong with that, as long as you have the time.

We had thought to have aperitivo in Civitanova, but not knowing which, if indeed any, of places on the lungomare gave satisfaction and wanting, with the weather so good, a spot with a view, we headed instead out of the city and up to Sant’Elpidio al Mare and Totò, to sit on the terrazzo, admire the panorama, eat a few stuzzichini and the odd piece of pizza, and buy a little tart to take away (apple and ginger, highly recommended). Not that shopping was entirely finished either, as on the way home we stopped at the Chinese store for a few necessities (long-handled dustpan, sunscreen for the car, parasol base to replace the one that’s leaking, garden ties and a screen protector for Stephen’s phone), making for an altogether successful jaunt.

Wednesday saw an early start for Stephen as it was time to find out if all our privations dietary wise had been effective. The three months were up and he set off without any breakfast for Emotest for the follow up set of analysis as requesting (or stipulated) by the doctor. He didn’t have too long to wait, and when he went in the treatment room it was to find the same young man who had taken his blood previously and with whom he had flirted if not outrageously at least moderately obviously. Whether it was excitement or trepidation at having Stephen again in his chair, the nice young man was unable to find a vein in either of Stephen’s arms, and was in the process of asking for reinforcements when he finally managed to get the needle in and draw out some blood, leaving Stephen with a swab on each of his arms as a badge of honour – or maybe shame. As for the results, he collected those on Friday afternoon and all will be revealed when he makes an appointment with the doctor next week.

It was just as well we had made the trip to Civitanova the previous day as at lunchtime Stephen received a call from Maddalena, during which it transpired that her birthday had been two days before, on the 5th. How Stephen managed to get it wrong is not surprising really, when you consider a couple of years ago he was a month early, though of course the real fault lies with me for not taking responsibility for remembering the correct date. Still, it gave us a good excuse to go round after dinner with the present for a catch up, a coffee and a little glass of something, though maybe what we really needed was an iced bath as at 9pm when we headed to downtown MSP it was still a bit on the hot side at 32C.

Thursday made it three nights out on the trot when we went for this year’s inaugural trip to the weekly summer market in Fermo. This was very much a recce trip for after a walk round the stalls (still not as many as pre you know what) and one for the tonsils at Artasylum, we met with Computer Luca and Shoe Marco for dinner at Enoteca, our first time since July 2019. We had a very happy evening, sitting on the portico with its view of the busy piazza and enjoying the food and wine that was as good as ever (especially its baked ricotta and a plate of exquisite ravioli). Stephen and I have plans to return before the end of August, because no way are we going to wait another two years before our next visit.

We have also had a couple of unexpected animal encounters, the first when Stephen was out on the first walk of the day on Friday and was pottering with Bella and Harry in the copse on the lane. He glanced further down to the channel where the water from the field drains and where this year Mario and Luigi have planted a selection of gourds and the odd watermelon, which have reached the flowering stage. This is fortunate, as if they had actually started to produce their fruit the two wild boar that were sniffing around the plants would have made short work of them. Also fortunately, Harry was too busy sniffing around to notice the animals until they, having sensed they were not alone, were ambling off.

The second encounter was much less exciting but maybe worth noting, for this afternoon when I went down to do some work, on the partially drawn fly screen that we pull fully across when we leave the office door open were two, at least for me, unidentifiable insects attached to the netting. One was a leaf green colour and somewhat flat with an elongated body and longs legs. The other was a very pale and almost translucent cream, but rounder. Help with identifying them would be greatly appreciated as Google has so far failed me.

It was also at the end of the week that we had to say addio to two much-loved people, one known internationally and the more locally but for those who knew him, no less important. Friday saw the funeral of Rafaella Carrà who had died the previous Monday, queen of Italian television, singer, dancer, presenter, actress and gay icon, who did so much to chip away at hidebound attitudes in 70s and 80s Italy with her charisma, uniqueness, nerve, and talent – and all-round fabulousness.

Then on Saturday evening, Stephen had a call from Mrs Carelli to say that his former colleague at the Stefoni factory and fellow McIntosh habitué in its golden days had passed at the age of 39 after a short illness. It is easy to measure the effect of someone like Rafaella, harder for someone like Ivan who had spent his entire life in the same small town and therefore would seem to have had less impact – but for those who worked with him (always the first to arrive and the last to leave and always ready to go out of his way to help anyone and always, always smiling), the many who benefitted from his keen devotion to the local football team and the people of MSP, who knew and loved him, his worth was, if anything, beyond measure. Whether you live your life blazing across millions of television screens or in a corner of Le Marche, these two very different people prove that what is to be valued is really quite simple: be honest, be humane and be kind.