Italy’s Special Space Programme ….. or ooops!

We have been having some wonderfully warm early Autumn weather. Blue, cloudless skies in the day, with a virtually breathless wind and still very dry. Cooler in the night, so very good for sleeping.

It was time I tackled the lowest terrace of the estate with the strimmer. This piece is outside the fence we put up to keep Bertie in and the cinghiale out. The weeds were nearly all as tall as me. So it was hard going getting in and mixing it with the strimmer. But I did. Raked all the cuttings up after every session, ready to burn.

The last time, I went out to pretty much finish the strimming. I set off in a t-shirt, cut-off denims and a pair of wellies. I thought I would burn what had already been cut and whilst that was doing, I would complete the rest of the strimming. Bertie cam down with me and sat on his side of the fence and watched me with a curious look. Well that was the plan.

Now I am sure most of you will remember the famous incident of Janet Jackson’s breast (left one I seem to remember). She was performing some duet with Jason Timbertruck or Justin Timbersomething, at an Amercian sporting final, when she had what was later described as a “wardrobe malfunction”. In other words her boob popped out, either on purpose or by accident and zillions of American watching on TV were, rightly so, absolutely aghast by this lewd display. Of course the news channels all over the world, picked this up as a major piece of earth shattering news of global importance that they just had to re-broadcast and re-broadcast and analyse what it all meant for humanity. I suspect that the reality of it was that they couldn’t get over the nipple ring.

I digress a little. I had a little malfunction myself. Not of the wardrobe variety though, this was a “weather malfunction”. I had had this before and I should have remembered.

Just as the first pile of hay had caught, the f*&^ing wind picked up, didn’t it. For the next ten minutes I was running round and round this increasing large burning circle trying to stamp out the fire as it crept outwards burning the stubble until it reached another pile and so and so forth, at quite an alarming rate. As it approached more piles I at first started to move them away, out of the encroaching fire’s reach, but of course it was soon approaching them again. So I changed tack and started to put the piles into the middle of the burnt circle. I was choking in the smoke, my feet felt as though they were about to boil in the wellies and my once proud hairy legs looked as though they had been waxed. However I felt I had nearly got it under control. At least, that’s my story and I’m sticking to it.

At this point I heard La D coming down the top garden carrying a couple of watering cans with the Berts at her heel. “Need any help, L’uomo chi fa?” she shouted. “It certainly looks as though you do. What did I say to you about bringing some water down as a precaution? You silly man. Here, take these and I’ll go and get some more.”

“Thanks La D” I mumbled. “It’s almost out and under control”

“Is it?” La D said. “What are those flames doing then, down at the bottom left hand corner. The ones just licking that huge pile of dried hay.”

“Oh no” I said as I ran down the hill with my hairless legs rattling in my red-hot wellies with water slopping out of the cans to douse the flames. Bertie just sat there looking almost amused at the spectacle unfolding in front of him.

A few more watering cans later, the fire was out but there is now a rather large area of scorched earth where there shouldn’t be.

As la D and I trudged up the hill back to the house she said, “I will only say this once L’uomo chi fa, although I do so want to say it more than once, but “I told you so””.

“Thanks La D” I muttered.

“When will you ever learn, that as a woman, I am always right” she said.

“Sorry, I temporarily forgot. But the fire was almost out, just a coup …….”
“Enough, Luomo chi fa” she said in a very final tone., and walked on.

I wondered why she had come out to see. The smoke was billowing away from the house so she wouldn’t have smelt anything and there wasn’t really any noise. Just as these thought were going on in my head, I looked over at Bertie. He somehow looked guilty. I looked harder at him and he sort of shook his shoulders as if to say “I didn’t tell her. It wasn’t me guv. Honest!” Then I swear I saw a hint of a smirky smile on his lips. He was beginning to look like Muttley, Dick Dastardly’s dog in The Wacky Races.

Behind every cloud, blah, blah, blah. I later contacted the Programma Italiano Spazio Speciale or PISS as it’s known, to see if I could offer some of our estate as a potential launching site. They are sending some of their personnel over to have a look to see if it might be useful for them. We’ll have to wait and see.

PS. La D has now confiscated all lighting equipment. They are to be signed out and in from now on. I ask you. It’s like living in a police state!

PPS The rellies are coming!

Ciao, mantenere la fede

Has it been that long?

I didn’t realise that it has been three weeks since I last updated this masterful piece of work. Please accept my humble apologies dear readers.

Well what has been happening in the world of Casagrotta?

Gattini update.

One of the kittens, Dora The Explorer, has gone to a lovely new home with some people who already have a couple of cats. She seems to have settled in very well, and we are going to see her next week. In fact the people are so enamoured with her “regalness” they have had to give her a more appropriate name and she is now called Mia. Lovely.

We did say to the new owners that they could have another one, like a BOGOF but in this case it would have been a TOHOF (Take One, Have One Free), but surprisingly, they declined the offer. Oh well. So we have three of the little tykes still here. The silver tabby, Tigger, we will probably keep as he is a rather handsome chap.

They are getting cheekier with Bertie now they are growing and I think they might lead him a merry old dance soon. Mind you, it does look as though he loves every minute.

Here's a picture of Tigger and Daisy in Bertie's empty water bowl.

The Three Degrees

Doing well. Eggs are now considerably bigger than they were when they first started laying. But, we have a problem. The first and second degree have started to lay whilst they are on the roost at night. So when we come to let them out in the morning invariably there is always one egg that is broken and more often than not there are two. Not sure what we can do here. We have put some paper below the perch and that has helped a bit, but we need to break this stupid habit they have got into. The third degree lays her eggs properly in the beautiful bespoke nesting box I made for them.

We have started to let them out into the top half of the garden and they do seem to like their freedom. So much so, that the day after we let them roam, first and second degree flew over the gate, not bothering for us to open it for them. I am\ hoping we have not set ourselves up here. I am going to have to do something to increase the height of the gate methinks. ( had put “I think” here but La D thought “methinks” was better as it indicated a sort of furry beard moment. I did point out that I think she meant a “strokey beard moment”. Ho hum.)

They are funny to watch as they dart around trying to get hold of the myriad cricket-like insects that hop all over the place. Also their gentle clucking is pretty calming. We were sitting outside yesterday afternoon working through some papers in the gorgeously warm early Autumnal sunshine. They were only a few feet away scratching for things to eat making their soft noises. Very peaceful.

The Bert

Last week we looked after Bertie’s sister Jess and her friend Rustic, as their people had gone on holiday to the Sorrento peninsula. Usual mayhem. Loads of barking with one setting off the others.

Hope we didn’t annoy the neighbours too much, although one neighbour seems to have no sense at all and delights in goading Bertie and the other dogs with the result that Bertie comes across as a bit aggressive. Not sure what to do about this. His nuts might be coming off. But we haven’t told him yet. We are waiting for an appropriate moment to inform him of his pending emasculation.

Got some good walks in down by the river with the bigger dogs. They were thoroughly worn out, well, we were.

But on Sunday, it was Bertie’s and his siblings first birthday.

Jess’s people had organised a Pups’ Birthday Bash. All the dogs and owners were invited to Lago San Ruffino. Owners brought a bit of food and liquid refreshment was obtained from the restaurant by the lake.

Four of the six dogs turned up, Bertie, Jess, Alfie and Harry. We brought Jess (and Rustic) with us to return them to their holidaying owners.

There was a bit of posturing shall I say, by the dogs, but generally they got on pretty well with each other. It was a shame that Maya could not be there as she is the only one who has a shaggy coat like Bertie, and she’s bigger by all accounts. We’ve not seen since she was five weeks old lying in a box with her brother Bertie.

When we arrived there were loads of Italian families enjoying the afternoon sunshine. Strangely enough, a short while after we arrived with baying and howling dogs, we had the place pretty much to ourselves.

The dogs ran around chasing each other and went swimming in the lake and then came out and shook themselves all over us. Great fun!

On Monday, Bertie had a day of rest. Having had Jess for about nine days and then the pups party, he was just happy to have a lie down with us either in the office or in the orto.

Bertie with Harry and the four of them.

Season of mellow fruitfulness

We have had a much better grape growth than last year. I would say that we have had a four fold increase or more. Unfortunately we haven’t got the equipment necessary to do the grapes into wine thing. We have looked at taking them to the local community cantina and adding them to others, but we would have to supply details of what we have sprayed and when through the growing season, so we will probably end up making a bit of grape juice from some of them. This is very good. One of the people on Sunday brought some she had made from her grapes and it was great.

We will have to see about next year.

Ciao, mantenere la fede

Bertie Wusster!

Well. What can I say. Since the incident of the cinghiale in the campo, the Berts won’t even go down to the field. He just sits at the top and waits for myself or la D to come back up. The only reason La D and myself drag ourselves out of bed at such an ungodly hour, is to take the beast out so he can do his “business”. If the brute isn’t going to use the opportunity, then there is little point is taking him.
There has been anther incidence of his complete antipathy towards the wild pigs.
Yesterday afternoon, I was doing the rounds of the upper estate in my CTPU role. What do you mean, you’ve forgotten what this acronym means? Chief Turd Picker Upper, that’s what it means. Despite several meetings scheduled for a discussion on roles and responsibilities with la D, none have actually taken place because something always seem to crop up that means La D is unable to attend. The last time, it was because she had been called at the last minute to see if she could attend an international symposium on e-coli for medial doctors in Berlin, would you believe it. Well, I didn’t even know La D was medically qualified and apart from that I don’t remember hearing the telephone ring. But, there you go. So she cancelled our meeting, but, wait for it, she didn’t even go to Berlin. When I broached this with her, she said, “Oh yes. Oh, they’ve just called and said that the conference has been postponed. Something to do with swine flu.” I didn’t hear the telephone then either. Sounds a bit of a porkie pie to me.
Anyway Bertie and I were turd spotting when, just as we got close to the new fence, there was a lot of very loud, deep snorting and snuffling and then lots of heavy crashing through the long grass. I turned to look at Bertie to see if he was interested in the noises, but he had gone. He disappeared up to the house and was just sitting there looking at me. “Thanks pal” I thought.

The Strange Incident of Electricity Trip in the Night

We have one of those cordless phones in the house. The handset has batteries in it so you can use it all over the house. I’m sure you know what I mean. When we have a power cut, and we do have quite a few, but they normally are really just blips, the phone bleeps, quite loudly and then bleeps again when the power is restored.
The other night at about 2:30 we heard the first bleep, but no second one. I thought maybe the trip had gone. Sure enough it had. Thinking in my somnambulistic state, not too much more about it, I got back into bed. After a short while the thing went again. I followed the same routine. This went on about six times. Not a good night’s sleep was had.
By this time La D and I were thinking, we must have a major leakage of current so the electrics are suddenly demanding more electricity than the house is supplied with. We scratched our heads and took plugs out of sockets and checked exposed wires, etc., and came up with nothing out of the ordinary apart from a very dodgy cooker connection which has now been rectified. We know that the wiring is a little flaky and should probably have been renewed when Julius Caesar was a nipper, but we were at a loss.
The only thing that makes any sense is that the electricity supply suddenly kept dipping to below what we had running, i.e. the fridge and freezer, and so the trip went. Over here the usual domestic supply is 3.0 – 3.3 kws, which is normally adequate. You can pay for a higher level, but it has so far suited us perfectly.
We had a much better sleep the next night.

British TV

Now that Autumn is almost here again, we have taken on a trial to get British TV online. So far we have only watched some things after they have been broadcast, but the real test will be watching a live broadcast. Hopefully it will be OK.

The first thing we have seen is a fabulous piece of drama, Wuthering Heights.
Do you think all Yorkshire folk are like those portrayed in the drama? Heathcliffe was driven completely bonkers by, it seems, the way he was treated by a very weird “step-brother”. Mind you the incredibly bleak landscape probably added to sense of other worldliness. Is Yorkshire really like this? And what about Yorkshire people? I’m sure they must have come on pretty well since the age when drama was set. Well I hope so.
I actually have to admit I have never read any of the Brontës (or Jane Austen either) but seeing it made me want to read the book. A bit of kultur, know what I mean?

Potatoes

We have now harvested all our spuds. They look very good. They should keep us going well into the Spring.
But we did come across a bit of a strange one. Reminds us of a duck! See what you think.

Cat Walkers

Before the walk

After the walk!


Anyone for cat?

Ciao, mantenere la fede

Snakes and Ladders

Actually there are no ladders in this bit, it just goes rather well with the word “snakes”.
We were just locking up the other night and La D wanted to say goodnight to the gattini, when she noticed something lying on their towel that they use for a bed. The kittens were not taking any notice of it and were in fact fast asleep.
“L’uomo chi fa, what is that?” she said.
“What your grace?” I responded not knowing what she was talking about because I was in a different room.
“Come here, now. Look. What is that?” She asked as I presented myself to her, pointing to this coiled-up grey looking object.
“It’s a snake La D.” I said as I inspected it a little bit closer.
“Oh my God L’uomo chi fa. Get rid of it immediately. It might attack the kittens.”
“I don’t think so. It looks pretty dead to me. I expect that Starlight or Mum has gone out, stalked it and killed it and brought it back to the kittens for them to eat.”
“My cats eating snake! Whatever next? Get rid if it immediately please.”
“They are going to have to learn to forage for food you know. It’s in their nature La D, and the older cats are only doing what is in their nature.”
“That may be the case L’uomo chi fa, however at the moment they will only eat the food we give them. Is that understood? If you see any other horrible things brought for them to eat, will you kindly dispose of them as soon as possible. They can go foraging when their older. They are growing up so quickly.” La D said with a small tear starting to well up in her eyes.
On that note I went and got a pair of bar-b-que tongs and lifted the offending animal from its resting place and sent it winging over the fence to the campo opposite.

The kittens are missing!

It was Sunday evening. I was enjoying reading some of the papers that we had just received from DiL. La D was doing something downstairs. Best not to enquire too closely.
I got up and went outside to see if La D wanted some refreshments. I noticed that there were no kittens about. I thought to myself that they were probably in the kitchen playing Sardines, and thought nothing more of it. La D said she didn’t want anything so I went back to my paper. A little while later La D came up from downstairs for something. “Where are the kittens?” she asked me.
“I’m not sure. I expect they are in the kitchen hiding.” I replied.
La D had a good look round and under the units and cooker.
“I can’t see them” she exclaimed.
“Oh you know what they’re are like La D. All you have to do is to turn your back for a few seconds and suddenly they appear as if from nowhere, and just as quickly disappear again.” I said
“Oh do stop blethering L’uomo chi fa. They’re not here. Someone or something has taken them. Where have they gone?”
“Well perhaps the adults have taken them out on a sort of recce of the area.” I said, not very convincingly.
“A recce? A recce? These are cats, kittens in fact. Not soldiers. They don’t go on recces. I’m telling you, something horrible has come and tak……………………”
Just then La D noticed a small movement by our walking boots. We both looked closer and there were the kittens all sort of piled into our boots. They looked extremely comfortable and were all fast asleep.
“Sorry la D. What were saying about the kittens being taken by some bogey-monster?” I asked, innocently, with a small smile breaking on my lips.
“Shut it, buster.” Shut it I did. Best thing really.

Teeth and Maps

Now these two words don’t particularly go together or indeed have a lot in common.
Poor La D broke a crown on one of her teeth just before the week-end. I suppose the need for a dentist was going to happen at some time.
The good old Italy Magazine Forum came to the rescue.
La D asked for a recommendation of any dentists nearby, or nearish anyway, and that preferably could speak English.
We got a few responses and went for one in Porto san Giorgio, where we go to the beach.
We looked him up on the web and found him straight away. We took down his number and address and then clicked on the map that was indicated on his entry on the web page.
The map indicated a point that was different from the address shown.
Oh well, we thought, we will just have to go where the map said. After all it was the map that was on his site.
La D rang and booked an appointment.
We set off on the day and we found the point that was indicated on the map. No dental practice in sight. We knew there was a street that had nearly the same name. We tried that. No joy. La D then saw a sign for the Health Authority. We nipped up there and spoke to the receptionist. Fortunately she used the same dentist! We were not far and she gave us directions. It actually was on the road of almost the same name, but tucked away at the back of a row of other houses. Anyway we arrived at precisely the appointment time. Phew.
La D had the deed done and then we had to pay. Italy is just like England in that dentistry is not in the NHS for the majority of people. The receptionist did lots of things on her computer and eventually printed out an invoice and said we could have a 20% discount if we could pay by cash! Unfortunately neither La D nor myself had anything like the amount needed in cash, so we had to pay by card. So she screwed up that invoice and printed another one with the “full” price! Extraordinary.
I read some months ago that it was proving hard to understand the size of the impact of the global financial crisis on Italy and Italians because no one can really get a handle on the real financial position as opposed to the reported position due to the level of undeclared finance, i.e. the “Black” economy.

I digress. Back to the maps. This actually was the third time this has happened to us. I finally understand what has happened. The address system is clearly not as advanced as that in England. What happens here is that Google Maps or ViaMichelin or whatever you are using, if it cannot display the actual address, it just indicates the central point of the town in which you are looking for an address,. Presumably it will get more accurate as time goes on.

The Three Degrees

are doing brilliantly. Two eggs a day at the moment. They are getting a little bigger by the day and they taste quite lovely. Yummy, yummy.

Ciao, mantenere la fede

We are eggstatic!

Yes folks, The Three Degrees, those little brown beauties (I am not being racist here) have finally delivered.
This morning La D went to open the coop and noticed one of the chickens running over to a place by the fence rather than dash to the food as normal. On closer inspection La D found not one, but four eggs.
She was so eggcited as she rushed back to the house yelling, “L’uomo chi fa, l’uomo chi fa” at the top of her voice. I thought something terrible had happened such as Signor Volpe had visited in the night. But no.
She said, “Look at these beauties” and she opened her hands and there they were. Our first eggs.
Our breakfast consisted of coffee and scrambled eggs on toast. Fantastic.
After breakfast, La D took some old greens down for the hens and just had a another look at where she found the eggs and blow me, there were three more. They must have been laid in the previous hour. You do not get any fresher than that. If they continue to lay at this rate we might be in a position to give a few away to our neighbours which would be really good.
I don’t think it matters that they don’t use the beautiful hand-crafted nesting box that I made for them, as long as we know where to look for the eggs that they do lay.
We are very proud of them.
Well done girls.

Rellies Holiday and Kitten Sexing

La D’s son and his girlfriend and their two children came over to visit for their summer holidays.
We have had a lovely time. The weather has been very kind to us with only a couple of showers and then brilliant, hot sunshine for the rest of the time. We’ve been to the beach (twice), the lake, the Abbadia di Fiastra and the swimming pool (loads of times) near us at the bottom of the hill. We also visited Tolentino for a Friday night market, which was advertised for children, but we couldn’t really see that it was particularly children focused.
It has been so good for Bertie to have some young children around. The grandchildren have a big Springer at home and are well used to being barged about and barging back again. Bertie took to them straight away as they did to him. There was only one little incident just after they first arrived and inevitably it centred around food, but that was soon sorted out.

The kittens are growing well and getting very adventurous. If we try to give them away, – La D is considering, sorry, we are considering, keeping them all, more about this later – we need to know what sex they are. La D’s son’s girlfriend is something of an expert in kitten sexing. She has had cats and kittens with her for years. After a cursory inspection and then a more detailed look at their anatomies, there are two girls and two boys, a perfect split.

A Near Death Experience

As you know, La D and myself take it in turns to take out the beast first thing in the morning.
Last Tuesday The Bert and I wended our sleepy way to the campo at the bottom of our lane. I slipped him off the leash and off he went as usual. Running down the field and into the woods and back again. I just amble down the field to a particular point and then turn round and trudge back up the incline, usually yawning.
I got to the point where I was going to turn round and Bert was sitting there looking further down the field, his ears pricked. I looked where he was looking but couldn’t see anything; the grass down there is well over a metre tall.
Suddenly Bertie set off down the slope grumbling, tail very high. I looked again and I saw something brown moving about just above the grass heads.
Bertie got closer and then the brown thing became two things, ears, and they started to move towards Bertie.
At this point Bertie did an abrupt U turn and started belting back to me and this rather large cinghiale burst out of the longer grass and was chasing him at some speed. Bertie rushed passed me and shot back to the top of the field. Meanwhile this wild pig was heading straight for me at some speed on the same track that Bertie had taken.
Pictures and words flashed through my mind. All those books I had read by authors such as Wilbur Smith and Ryder Haggard, saying to me,
“Remember, they are more afraid of you.. Animals like this will not attack unless provoked. Just stay still.” That is a big ask in a situation like this without something like an elephant gun at my disposal. Anyway I just stood completely still, listening to big, brave Bertie barking at the scene, from a pretty safe position at the top of the field. Not very protective for a so-called defender to the death of his usual charge, sheep. This pig was big, and fast and it was getting closer to me rather rapidly, making a lot of noise. I’d really no other option but to stay still. When he was about twenty feet away from he veered off the right snorting and grumbling and ran off down the hill.
“Phew,” I thought to myself. I was fortunate to be wearing brown trousers.
I retraced my steps to where Bertie was still barking in a manner which seemed a little like;
“Yeah, come on then, if you’re up to it. Come on. Come on then. You big fat pig.”
When I got up to him, he stopped barking and gave me a lick then sat down waiting for me to put him on his lead . We set off back to the house with Bertie holding his head and tail high as though he was a returning conquering hero. Bah!
I think I might look at some gun websites.

Well done number 4 son, continued!

My little boy, well he’s 6’ 1”, had just got his “A” level results. The boy done good. Fantastic EMW. We’re very proud.

Ciao, mantenere la fede

I do so want to say Eggcellent!

But, I can’t. Not yet anyway. My pep talk was obviously like sowing seeds on stony ground. Not productive.
I have worked it out that if an egg were to be laid today it would have cost us €211,87.
That’s some eggspensive egg. But, if two were laid that the cost would be €105.93 each. Getting better. Although at the rate they are going the chickens will have died before they start to lay virtually “cost-free” eggs.

One of them has been making dashes for freedom over the wire. A bit like the film Chicken Run. La D came up with a great idea of erecting a bit of fencing that would be higher than the original and would utilise some of the damaged gazebo.
After a couple of hours, a bit of blood, some blue air, some chicken cursing, we had it put and secured. It works a treat. OK one of them did fly to the top but only to roost, not to go over the wire, and that was only once. So hopefully they are now well and truly settled in their abode. Just start laying some f£$%ing eggs, will you!

One of our friends, I think she was being helpful or kind or something, actually told us that they had over 20 chickens and none of them were laying. My immediate thought was what the hell is going on? Why keep all these chickens if none of them are producing eggs? I mean think about it. They cluck around all day and eat up all the food you provide having a life of Riley and then give nothing back. Taking the Michael a bit I think. Shoot the buggers. A few Sunday dinners there.
NB La D says that she doesn’t agree with this bit M. M will know who she is!

Opera


Did you know the only time La D and I have been out on our own since going to the Opera last year, was for lunch on our wedding anniversary.
For the second year running we have decided to celebrate our anniversary by going to the Stragione Lirica (Opera Season) at the Sferisterio in Macerata, which is on at the end of July and early August.
This year we went to see Madame Butterfly by Puccini.
The whole experience was easily as good as last year. Had a good wander round, bought a CD of Madame Butterfly and one by Diane Reeves – note DIL if you read this - and a couple of books for our Italian language learning and had a great pizza in the piazza next to the Sferisterio.
The orchestra was fabulous, the set was brilliant and the singing was top notch, but there weren’t as many people there as last year.
The night was cool, La D should have brought something to put around her shoulders. My arm didn’t really do the trick. But we will try and remember next year.
Last year there was a full moon right above us but this year it was just the stars. Quite magical.

Gattini update.

The little blighters are growing up fast - we still don’t know if we have got rid of any yet. They are now much more active and clamber all over the adult cats play-fighting with each other. La D has fixed an old cotton reel suspended just above where they are. At first they ignored it but now they seem to really enjoy knocking seven bells out of it. As usual, huge amusement for human onlookers.
They still continue to ignore Bert, although it defies belief. He gets into their space and leans right down and gives them a sniff or a bit of a lick and they just completely ignore him. To them he must seem a hundred feet tall and all white. You would think they would scatter to all corners and hide. Not a bit of it. They come over and muck around as though he’s invisible. It is going to be quite fun when they are a couple of weeks older to see how\if they will really start to play with Bert. He may have his nose put out of joint.

Bertie and the Holiday neighbours

Our little road is now full due to it being national summer holiday time and those houses that have remained closed for most of the year now have their doors and windows opened and Italian conversations can be heard all day long drifting across the warm, balmy air. Lovely.
Well it would be idyllic apart from one thing. Bertrum.
We love him to pieces but sometimes we think he takes his protection of us, as his flock, a bit far.
Any person or thing that comes past our house gets a good barking at. Even those he knows who live by us all year. Admittedly he does stop barking when they come over and give him a cuddle through the bars – of the gate, not prison.
The family who own the house right next to us, gets abused whenever they are in their garden trying to enjoy a nice relaxing two week holiday. It’s very embarrassing.
“He’s only a pup” I hear you cry. This statement is becoming very care worn and hackneyed and will not stand up to scrutiny for much longer. It is almost as bad as someone saying,
“I’ve been that busy …..” when you have been expecting to hear from them or for them to have done something but haven’t actually got round to it because either they are unable to prioritise properly or they just can’t be arsed.
Enough.

Congratulations to number 4 son!

Well done EMW for passing your driving test and first time round, unlike your father who had to have two goes. However in my defence, I was asked by the driving instructor/tester to pull out of a side street near a bend and found myself stuck in a funeral cortege moving at about 10 miles an hour which resulted in a lot of stop start stuff using that bloody handbrake thing.
Anyway, well done you.
Just got to look forward to next week when the A level results are out. Gulp!

Ciao, mantenere la fede

Team Talk Time

Unfortunately I have to report that as I write, there have been no eggs laid by the Three Degrees. La D, and myself, are not amused.
They have all the creature comforts they need. They are being fed with top quality – at least that’s what the chap said who sold it to us – feed designed for egg laying. Yet, no result to date.
I thought it was time to give them a bit of a pep talk. Well, to be truthful, La D said to me “L’uomo chi fa, if the Three Degrees don’t start showing a return a ROI very soon, I am going to hold you personally responsible and will exact punitive measures on you for their egg laying failure.” Gulp. I preferred not to seek clarification on the punitive measures. I had just finished my breakfast at the time.

So, armed with a piece of bamboo, a smallish blackboard and easel, some chalk and a serious demeanour I entered the chicken run.

“Right, girls. Gather round. I have something eggciting to talk to you about” I said, in a commanding tone. I set the blackboard up and wrote on the top, “Daily Egg Production” and drew x and y axis lines.
“Pay attention” The chickens didn’t really seem to have got the hang of this sort of thing, but I thought I would persist. I said to myself, “Speak more slowly and louder to be understood.” You know the sort of thing you do on holiday in a foreign land.
“I want to talk to you about your egg production, or rather lack of it.” I said. The clucking and scratching suddenly stopped when I mentioned lack of egg laying. I thought, “Aye, aye. That’s got your attention.” But no, I think they must have just yawned in unison because they soon started up again and continued to ignore me continuing to scratch about and cluck quietly to themselves. Mind you, they could have been saying “What‘s he on about?”
“Now, I am going to try and be eggsplicit as I can. Let me eggsplain.” I said. I went over to the blackboard and put a cross where the x and y axes met. “In terms of egg production we” – notice the inclusivity – “ are here. The same place we were when we started.” I pointed my bamboo at the cross to help them understand. I then put a mark between 2 and 3 above and to the right.
“Where we need to be is here. Everybody with me so far?” More clucking, foot scratching and neck twitching. “I do hope they are paying attention” I said to myself..
“Good, good. You see we, that is La D and myself, bought you for the eggspress purpose of having fresh eggs whenever we wanted them. We are not trying to eggsploit you. This is what you, as chickens, do. To date, this has not happened. Do you have any eggsplanation for this? I know it’s only been two weeks, but we were told you would laying within two weeks. So what are we going to do? We are not eggsperts in keeping chickens. We need your help. Do you need more eggsercise perhaps? Do you eggspect something more from us? Do you need to eggcert yourselves more? I mean you really don’t seem to have totally eggsplored your surroundings at all. Apart from you, 2nd Degree, because you keep eggscaping over the fences. You probably know more about outside your run than in it!” I said eggsasperatedly.
“Let me be very clear. Unless you girls start eggspediting eggs, and PDQ, we may have to take eggstreme measures.. You might even become eggstinct” I said.
Just then there was a lot of eggscitement and clucking and scratching. I thought eggscitedly that may be an egg was about to be laid, the first egg of the Three Degrees. Then they started to flap about and I looked behind to see Bert lying down, tail wagging and his head cocked just looking at the girls. He does spook them sometimes.
So, I packed up my blackboard and easel, put the chalk in my pocket and my bamboo cane under my arm and left the pen to sounds of more clucking and scratching. I am very unsure whether my little pep talk will have the desired effect. I do hope so. Kitting this lot out and buying feed for no return is not a good deal in terms of financial investment in these straitened times.
I took a look back at them and said, “Remember girls, Casa Grotta eggspects!” and trudged wearily up the hill to debrief La D, in the military sense of course, on the mission.

Kitten Update




The worst thing about having young animals, like cats and dogs, is that they are so damned lovely and entertaining, that you find your decisions made about their future becoming wobbly.
They are four weeks old now and clambering over Starlight and Mum. Bertie often lies with them and they are taking quite an interest in him I don’t know whether they see him as a big brother or uncle or some kind of relative. I am sure when they are a bit older they will soon realise that actually, Bertie is not one of them!
We hope we have found a home for one of them and we are going to try and find a home for the other three. However, I have been given a stern ultimatum (I don’t know whether you can have a stern ultimatum, but it sounds better than just ultimatum) by La D that we shall be keeping one of them.
“It’ll keep Bert company” she said. I didn’t bother to point out that he has enough cat-friends around him already. It wouldn’t have made any difference.
Anyway, we need to sex them first so we can decide whether to keep a female or male.

Vegetable Glut

We have zucchini, pomodori (toms) and citrioli (cucumbers) coming out of our ears, and probably other orifices soon. Fortunately the holiday house next door has someone in it now and we have been able to give them some and also the neighbour opposite who doesn’t have an orto. We have tried to give our other neighbours but they have orti too and of course they are in the same boat as us. They have too much. It doesn’t really matter because what we don’t eat goes into the compost or given to the Three Degrees and will be used as fertiliser for next year. So nothing is wasted. It just seems a shame when these beautiful fresh vegetables are not eaten.

Ciao, mantenere la fede