You cannot be serious

10th July 2022

I had hoped to start the week with saying how things had progressed with the double narrative of Stephen’s internal workings and the workings of my phone, but no such luck.

As far as the first goes, we kept the appointment at Fisiomed and were there, again, in good time. Unfortunately, the doctor wasn’t. After sitting in the waiting area for a while, (curiously less busy than the previous visit, with only the radiography room seeming to take customers) Stephen went to the reception desk, which we had skirted on our arrival as he had all the details on his appointment card, but returned without making any enquiry as there was a long queue. After a further wait, when the radiographer popped out to call his next patient, Stephen showed him the card and was told that doctor wasn’t in today.

Some thirty minutes after the appointment time, we returned to the reception area, where the nice lady behind the desk said that yes, the doctor wasn’t in, and that they had tried to call us but the phone wasn’t responding. And for this, we (as in collective responsibility as I don’t want to point the finger of blame at an ailing person) are at fault, as Stephen’s bat phone, as he calls it, the one with an Italian number that he gives to people he thinks won’t want the expense of calling his British mobile number, had run out of battery and no one had thought to recharge it. Oh well. Another appointment was made for Friday, so no real damage done and at least I got to sit on a comfy settee for fifty minutes playing on my iPad.

As for the unresponsive Internet connection on my phone, that was another story of wasted time. I had tried to add some extra time in the morning, to see if it was just some sort of blip with the earlier gigabytes, but of course it wasn’t and as soon as the payment had gone through, I received a message saying I had exhausted my Internet access. We thought, as the next step, to see what we could find from the Tim site, but as with all large companies it would seem these days, the answer was a big fat nothing.

There was an online assistant, but that refused to acknowledge my password or recognize my phone number, even though I had changed the former to make sure it was correct and received an access code to the latter. Nor had we any more luck when we tried phoning (having eventually located a number hidden away in the Internet pages). After passing though several press number… options, when asked to input the telephone number it said thanks but no thanks and closed the call. This is the catch 22 situation with so many organisations I have found: you can only speak to someone (if you are lucky) if you can input an account reference, but if you don’t have an account you can’t speak to anyone to open one, and if it is playing up then you have no chance.

The only thing was to return to the TIM shop in Girasole the next morning, forgoing breakfast at Pina (there’s a sacrifice), where the same woman as on Sunday was on duty. She remembered us, and expressed mild surprise and even milder concern that things still weren’t right. We said we’d tried the online site yesterday but had no luck, which wasn’t a surprise as, she said, that hadn’t been working properly (you don’t say). Anyway, to get to the point, because I don’t want you to be hanging around for half an hour like we were as I give you a blow-by-blow account, she tried this, she tried that, she called someone on the phone, but in the end the only solution was to buy a new SIM card for €15, though luckily with my number transferred. And what about the gigabytes I had paid for on the old card, asked Stephen? They were gone forever, never to return – which is about how I feel towards TIM, so hopefully this new SIM card will continue to work.

As for Stephen, the end of the week turned into a busy one. He was out early on Thursday and back late for lunch, which was a hurried affair as I had a lesson at 1.15, before heading out again. This was better than Friday when he had a working lunch (some fruit and tomatoes) at the new office, though he did manage a haircut in the morning while I slaved away over a hot shopping trolley.

He was back mid-afternoon, in time to freshen up before going for his revised appointment at Fisiomed. This, like the first visit, happened in double quick time, with the doctor saying there was nothing of any concern – which is interesting considering what happened over the weekend.

Before we get there, though, there are two good things to share with you. One was the arrival of stormy weather overnight on Thursday. I realise it’s not usually a good thing, and admittedly the strong winds were a little disconcerting, especially if you are Harry, but as it brought some much-needed rain and lowered the temperatures, breaking the extended 32+ degrees of the past couple of weeks, it was most welcome. The other was a return visit to Officina del Sole, the Brosway hotel and vineyard complex just outside Montegiorgio, where we went for Stephen’s birthday.

This time, it was a treat for Maddalena’s birthday, but as she is suspicious of anything that sounds a little experimental we went the safe route of a tagliere for four (slices of local cheeses and salami) followed by stuffed courgette flowers, fried in tempura and served with a saffron sauce (exquisite) and some roast lamb. Simple but delicious – and Marco so enjoyed the company’s plum acquavite, offered to us with our coffee, that he bought two bottles, one for them and one for us. Ours is still in the wine rack, unopened, but I can’t guarantee that his lasted out the weekend.

And as for the weekend, after a quiet day at home yesterday, we didn’t even make it halfway up the beach at Porto San Giorgio today as Stephen had a bit of a relapse overnight. The good news is that it was nowhere near as dramatic as the last time; the bad news is that it was still bad enough, with pain in his kidney area and upset stomach resulting in him eating very little and having to keep lying down to ease his back. Stephen was going to make an appointment in any case to take his results for the doctor to look at, it just seems we will be doing it sooner rather than later. Looking on the bright side, having to take over all the dog walking has done wonders for my Fitbit step count, but I can’t help feeling walking on the beach would be a less dramatic option.