Destruction and Mayhem in Central Italy … or just another day in the life of L’uomo chi fa and La Duchessa

The time had come. The “shed” had to come down before it fell down, perhaps on me!
Last Saturday we decided to do the job.
You will see from the photograph of before, the state of the shed. It had been used to store – I use that word very loosely – old wire and faggots made from old vine cuttings tied together with another vine cutting. Very clever but I still have not fathomed out what they used them for. I have used them for fire starting (oh, yesss). They are so old and dry you just need to look at them and think fire and they burst into flames. Brill.

Out we went, all three of us, Bertie was there as an observer. He’s good at that.
We did some strokey beard stuff as we had a good inspection of the structure thinking how best to go about demolition and then it was decided.
“Right La D,” I said, “Up you get. Onto the roof and start to claw the nails out of the corrugated iron roof. I’ll go underneath and help release the nails if they have been twisted over. We’ll get the roof off first and then we can take down the timbers.”
To my utter amazement, La D leapt onto the roof like a cat burglar and started using the claw hammer as if she had been born with one. Fantastic.

Bertie quickly became bored with his observing and started to chase the Three Degrees for a while, in between barking at the men who were fixing our neighbours roof. But he calmed down when we stopped for our coffee break and the treats came out. He’s such a food tart.
It was a lovely day and we got pretty warm. However, it wasn’t long before we had demolished and then had to store the corrugated iron – for use somewhere perhaps or just dumping – and the wood – for winter fuel on our open fire.
There were quite a few faggots left that when you touched them just fell apart. So following the new rules imposed by La D, I wrote out a quick bonfire request form and waved it under her nose. She took a long time to decide whether to sanction the request. I had to keep impressing on her the futility of trying to save the faggots as they were virtually all dust and if we tried to move them, by the time we moved them to another storage area they would have fallen apart. Eventually she gave in.
I had a great bonfire. The faggots burned beautifully and I was able to get rid of all the other sort of garden debris nearby.
It has made quite a difference to the aspect of the garden, as I’m sure you can see.

A Moving Experience

About two years ago we met a couple who were staying at the B&B up the road. They were from England and were spending a little time looking at the area with a view to buying a house and moving over here.
Despite a few ups and downs in their plan, they finally moved over last weekend. They have not bought over here yet, but have sold their house in England. They are renting a house, in Grottazzolina, whilst they try to settle in over here and see how it goes. They do have a youngish daughter (about 12) who will have to find schooling here. That might be problematic. A big plus in their favour is that they both have Italian parents and so speak Italian.

We went to see them last Sunday as they were staying at the B&B again and told us they had a huge pantechnicon arriving on Monday with all their stuff, including two London cabs! He had a second hand car sales business in Sussex and bought them with a view to speculative income generation such as hiring them out for weddings, trips, etc.. I am pretty sure that they must be the only two London taxis in Le Marche.

I offered to go over with them the next day and help them offload. They were very thankful as they had had loads of help packing up but there were only themselves and the driver at this end.

On Monday morning, I set off. He had arranged for another couple of people to come over and help so it shouldn’t be too bad.
We got to the house but there was no sign of the lorry. The driver was lost. Oops. Eventually this thing arrived. It was enormous. It was one of those HGVs that has a trailer as well. When I used to work in Logistics (or Distributionn as it was then) we used to call them a Dog and Pup.

The driver took the side curtaining off to reveal the contents of the trailer. I don’t think these people have ever thrown anything away in their entire existence. It was chokka.
Eventually we cleared out the trailer bar one of the taxis and then we started on the lorry. Same story, heaving with life’s materials collected over a long time.
The plan was to have the taxis lifted off by a forklift. We just had to find one. Hmmmmm. Planning didn’t appear to be one of their strong points. However, an Italian neighbour had been watching us for about three hours and talking (probably offering his verbal support, I could not understand him so I am not sure). Anyway, apparently he said why don’t you get a breakdown truck (soccorso stradale) to back up to the lorry and the trailer and drive them off. Excellent. In about 30 minutes, one had been organised and turned up. He just backed up the open doors, levelled the breakdown vehicle’s bed and the taxis were driven off. He moved off a bit and then tilted the breakdown vehicle’s bed until it rested on the road and the taxis rolled backwards. Job done. Do you know what? The breakdown man would not take any money for it. Fantastic.
We tidied up, found a kettle and had a lovely cuppa and a piece of La D’s walnut and date cake that she had sent with me.
After that, the other helpers and I said our ciaos and went of to leave them to do their unpacking.
I must say it is a lot more enjoyable helping people to move than moving oneself.

Cat in a Bin!

Ciao, mantenere la fede

News in brief

It’s been a bit of a quiet week.

The weather is turning quite autumnal now so we’ll be out in the garden doing what needs to be done.

The Three Degrees are still giving us three eggs a day. One of our friends who have four chickens, are only getting one or two a day.

Bertie and the cats are fine. Still stuck with the three kittens who seem to be taking over the kitchen as soon as the door is open. They like the full-on frontal assault as they come piling in over one another to see if we have any food for them, which we normally don’t. They seem to be particularly dim-witted. Perhaps that’s why we still have three of them left. Hmmm. Food for thought.

Great piece of news. Last Friday my second son called and asked if we would like to do a video call as we both have web cameras. We thought it was slightly odd being a Friday as we normally do our family comms on the week-end. Well blow me, we are going to be grandparents again! Oh la. Yes, Little Miss Sunshine will be having a baby brother or sister sometime next May, if the dates are correct. Great stuff. La D and myself are extremely pleased for them. Well done. I of course will be advising on names, although if like last time, they will be completely ignored. However I did think that Cosmos Xerxes did have a certain “”je n’est ce quoi” about it that wasn’t appreciated. But there you go.

We were invited to a birthday meal on Sunday by some people we have just got to know. They were the ones who took one of the kittens - Dora, now named Mia. The meal was at an Agriturismo in our nearest village. It was great fun and the food was just fabulous. We had an excellent time.

Joke – told you it’s been a quiet week

Jock Paddy Dai Margaret Cholmondley-Warner ( I think I’ve covered the bases here. Don’t want to be accused of some “ism”, racist or otherwise) went to the church and started to pray to God.
“Oh God, I really need some help. My business is not doing so well and I’m not giving my wife enough attention because I am worried. Please let me win the lottery”.
Some weeks pass and Jock finds himself in the church again.
“Oh God, I am becoming quite desperate now. The business is getting worse. My customers are leaving and my wife knows that things aren’t right and she is worried too. Please let me win the lottery”.
A couple of weeks later Jock goes to the church again.
“God. Are you there? My business will be closing next week unless I can get some money. My wife has her bags packed and is ready to leave. I am utterly desperate. Please, please let me win the lottery.”
He stays on his knees for a few seconds and then just as he is raising himself up, he hears a deep voice from above.
“Jock, meet me half way. Buy a ticket”

Ciao, mantenere la fede

Early morning pictures

La D took these one morning when we took Bert out for his walk. The webs were dripping with dew. They look fabulous at that time of the day with the sun just coming up

We’ve been rellied!

Well La D and myself have made it through another gruelling rellie visiting session. Phew.
The DiL and MiL were over along with one of La D’s brothers and his wife for a while. No, the woman who came with La D’s brother is not his wife “for a while”. She is permanently his wife. They only came over for a week, while the others stayed for two. I’ll stop. When in a hole, best stop digging. Suffice to say my English is letting me down.
At the same time we had my brother’s son and his girlfriend stay in the little B&B about 50 metres up the lane. They flew into Rome for a few days then hopped onto a train and came and visited for a couple of days and then went back to Rome before flying home. It was very good to see him again as we hadn’t seen each other for about five years. His girlfriend was lovely. Last year she crewed an ocean-going yacht across the Atlantic in a race. All I did was to have a few bonfires – but what bonfires!
The weather was a bit mixed. We were able to sit out a few times, but other times we were huddled up inside as the rain lashed down outside. Well. It is autumn.
But we did get out. One day we went to Tolentino market. It was lovely then and DiL. La D’s brother and myself were in shorts. Well, did we get some looks at the market. Do you remember at school when 1st October came round, the heating was put on whether the weather warranted it or not. I remember many times having been seated next to a radiator, having to fully open the window because it was so hot and you couldn’t control the radiator. It’s a bit like that with the Italians. Once autumn has started out come the coats and scarves and boots, no matter that the sun is shining and it’s quite warm during the day. So some stranieri wandering around with their legs on show is definitely cause for some disbelieving looks and light-hearted comments.
However, ever since DiL and MiL returned the weather has been fantastic. Beautiful blue skies. So very warm in the day, but chilly when the sun goes down. It is so good that yesterday we had a some people round for lunch – a very un-Italian curry. Yum – and we sat outside in the glorious sunshine, feeling very warm. It was brilliant.

Funghi

One of our neighbours very kindly collected some wild funghi from the woods and brought round about 2.5 kilos worth. I made some sumptuous soups from them. It really is the best mushroom soup I have ever had. Wow.

But remember this old adage:

"There are old mushroom pickers, and there are bold mushroom pickers. But there are no old, bold mushroom pickers!"

This is a picture of the third lot he brought round for us.

Diabetic check

Had my half yearly check up at the Anti Diabetico clinic. I was a bit worried .as my indicators seemed to show a small increase in my levels of disease, but the doc was very happy with my stats overall and sent me on my way with a smile. Don’t have to see her again until well into 2010. Yesss. A good result.

Three Degrees

The girls are doing a sterling job. Three eggs a day at the moment. We have addressed the problem of two of them laying from the perch by putting down strips of paper underneath to cushion the fall of the eggs. So far it seems to be working. The rellies absolutely loved the beautiful fresh eggs we were able to provide them with whenever they wanted.
Also la D is a mean cake maker and the cakes made with the lovely fresh eggs are just incredible. Unfortunately as soon as she made one, the MiL wanted to eat it straight away. The rest of us had to get in there quick if we wanted a piece. The MiL has an appetite for cake that is only matched by her appetite for ice cream. Of course she is in the right country for ice cream when she is here.

Bert

Well, Bert is Bert. Still barking at anything that moves past our gates. Looks after the Three Degrees if they are out of their run – only a couple of small chases, but he does like to help when we are trying to “herd” them back into the run. This normally takes the form of running at them in the opposite direction to which we want them to go. Oh well, he does try, poor lad.
I would say he is more loving than ever. He’s brilliant.
He loves everybody that stays with us. The only problem is, he thinks he smaller than he really is. When he jumps onto your lap the first time, it can come as a bit of a shock as a 32 kilo white furry monster suddenly arrives on top of your knees and starts to lick your nose and ears.

Gattini

Nobody wants any of the three kittens left. It’s a bit of a dilemma. Also, their toileting is something of a problem. They keep regressing to doing their business just outside the back door for some unknown reason. La D and I are wracking our brains as to how to stop them doing it. They’ve acres out there that they use as a loo, why don’t they use them all the time? What is so strange is that they have been going outside for quite while now and then suddenly this. Very odd.
I have tried talking to them, but it’s just like speaking to dumb animals I’ve got nowhere with them.
Picture of a couple of young hunters

And finally, congratulations to Jenson Button

Well done on your 2009 F1 crown. More please.

Ciao, mantenere la fede

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