Egg Production Yet To Start

A quick update on the 3°s.
I was beginning to wonder if in fact we had been sold some stuffed birds.
For two days, all they did was stand and stare at the inside of their coop. It was quite unnerving. But with a little persuasion – I shoved them out using an old besom – they came out, and then went straight back in again.
Hmm, I thought. This might get tricky.
Bertie, bless (blast) him, even tried to help by barking at them and looking as threatening as he could just outside the fence, and then seemingly wanting to take charge of proceedings, he crashed over the fence. However this action put my mind at rest at having been sold stuffed birds. They can really move you know, especially when being pursued by a large, slavering, wolf-like beast. I’m actually thinking of setting up some chicken racing event. Novel. Could be a € spinner.
But now the little wonders are getting on fine. They roost OK, come out in the morning for some food and water and go back at night with a little help from La D and myself. They actually went into their coop last night with just La D doing the shepherding. Mind you I think it was advisable from their point of view as I did overhear the persuasive tones of La D as she shooed them in. “Listen busters, do you want to see light tomorrow? Well don’t mess me about or you’ll be on the Sunday dinner menu” I’m sure it was the tone not the words that worked, but they fairly shot up their steps and onto the perch. One of them even tried to shut the door from the inside. Silly thing, there is only one catch and that’s on the outside. Tsk. How daft they are.

Nice Melons
La D and I are very partial to melon at the moment. Not the huge water melons but the other ones. Charantais-like ones. Juicy and sweet orange flesh. Delicious.
In fact, just the other week I went along to our local town to the travelling fruit and veg van to get some fruit. I noticed they had some great looking melons on the counter.
“Vedo che avete molto bella meloni maturi signora!” (in English: I see you’ve got some lovely ripe melons missus!.) Pity she took it the wrong way completely. I now have to shop for fruit in another village. I haven’t told La D precisely what had happened, in fact I just said the van doesn’t go there any more. “I wonder why not? How strange” she said.
Anyway, I digress.
We did think at trying our hand at growing some this year. La D even went as far as following some advice she had come across and kept a few seeds from a melon we had had in a moist piece of kitchen roll. But after several weeks they were still just seeds, so we threw them away.
In our lower orto where we have spuds, runners, peas and French beans, we had noticed some cucumbers were growing along one side of the fence. It is really weird because the few plants that are growing are all along this piece of fence which of course allows for a lot of support for a climbing plant like cucumber. When we prepared the ground early in the year, we had put in some of our kitchen compost that we had been mulching in the compost bin for months and months. Obviously it contained various seeds from any produce we had eaten. We thought we would just leave them and see how they got on as an experiment. We wouldn’t water them.
A couple of days ago we were doing some maintenance work in the orto and we saw that in fact they aren’t cucumber plants, but melons. There are loads of them, growing extremely well. If you click on the photo you can see the size of one of the little beauties.

Casa Grotta Cats Home

Well our little furry friends are still with us.
We came back from our weekly visit to the beach – it was awful. Cloud free sky, slight on-shore breeze, water as warm as you’d want it, soft sand, …. Apologies, I won’t go on painting this terrible picture you might start to feel sorry for us.
As I said we arrived back and blow me, there were only three little kittens sitting with Mum and Starlight – now remember, Starlight is their mother and we think that Mum is Starlight’s mother. We heard this squeaking from the room under the stairs and when La D checked the fourth kitten was in there. Starlight, presumably had brought three of them up the stairs and whether she had forgotten the fourth or was just going to get it when we turned up, we don’t know. La D brought the fourth one and put it with its brothers and sisters.
The two cats sort of formed a doughnut shape and the little kittens were contained in the hole the cats made.
But, and here is the interesting bit, the kittens are now suckling Mum. Mum did have a litter just after Starlight, but we have no idea where the kittens went, but there is no trace of them. So it looks like Mum is acting as a wet nurse. A Granny wet nurse. Extraordinary. See photo below.
Bertie is lovely with them. He’s fascinated. He sits down opposite them and just watches. Occasionally he gets up and goes and has a sniff, his great big tail swishing from side to side. An odd bark or two, but no more really. We just hope he doesn’t get too excited and accidentally steps on them. It could be fatal.
La D announced, “L’uomo chi fa, we will have to do something about getting kitten food for them”
I did try and remonstrate with her about them not being our responsibility, and I was tempted to say that it was either them or me. I’m glad I resisted. Her searing look pinned me to the door. We will be looking for some food this week.

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The Bert

was 10 months old on 27th.

Ciao, mantenere la fede

Ladies and gentlemen, girls and boys, will you please put your hands together for, the, fabulous …… 3 DEGREES!!!

Well, we have finally managed it. I know I have been procrastinating, but La D has finally won me round. She used a sort of carrot and stick approach. She knows I hate carrots and my pain levels are woefully low – this was probably the main reason I never held a 00 position. If I had ever been captured, all my interrogator would need to do would be to get out a nail file to clean his nails and I would be on the floor weeping, spilling everything I knew about MI6 and the connections with the CIA. Anyway La D’s methods, whilst lacking subtlety were extremely effective. The bruising doesn’t show and I can still walk, but with a slight limp.
No the real reason I have been prevaricating is that I really could not get my head round how to make a coop out of six pieces of old wood or varying lengths, widths and states of decay. So, we ended up with the one you see in the picture which we picked up from a local wood yard. At least it’s a start .
This morning we picked up these beauties.

We have been told that it is not a good idea to give chickens names. Apparently, it can be quite upsetting for those of a queasy disposition, to sit down one Sunday lunchtime and tuck into Flora or Hatty, all because she stopped laying eggs. So we thought we would give them a collective name and refer to them as First Degree, Second Degree and Third Degree. This of course still individualises them, however it also raises the possibility of having some literary fun in the future. We’ll have to see.

At the moment they are getting used to their new home and not moving too much, perhaps they are hot like we are. Hopefully they will settle down quickly and we would hope for a first egg in about a couple of weeks. It was quite funny buying them. We went to the “Chicken Man” at the local market, only to find that today he was only selling feed. When we asked him about the hens, he told us his brother was selling them out of his van a few kilometres from there. You can’t miss the place, he’s parked in front of an Italian KwikFit.
Slightly bemused we made our way there and right enough there was this lorry with quite a few people milling about at the back. He seemed to be doing an awful lot more trade than the Gommista (tyre shop).
We gave him our order and he picked out three of them and a bag of food and we were on our way.

Bertie was interested, but it appeared, not overly. He has been used to the hens of our neighbours. But when they start to come out and scratch about, then we will really see if the Berts is interested. We obviously hope not.
Why three? Well we reckon that allows for one not laying and if we have a few too many eggs sometimes, it’s a good policy to give a few away to neighbours. Also, we have read that if you introduce a new bird to an established group\there can be some argy-bargy with the new one getting a bit of a raw deal. This of course is where the term “hen-pecked” comes from. What do you mean, how do I know about hen-pecking?

Pussies Galore

Well, we have passed the critical two week period, which, in the past, has seen the disappearance of kittens that we know about being born. All their eyes are open and they are crawling all over the place in their wicker basket.



They are lovely, as any small animal is – I’m not so keen on baby spiders or very young jellyfish, they really don’t seem to do much for me – but it’s when they grow bigger and start demanding to be fed. Bertie of course thinks it is wonderful. Something more to play with.
A slightly worrying development has occurred. La D has been talking out loud about whelping times and kitten food. I have been pretending not to hear, however La D has now taken to shouting out her thoughts right in my ear which makes trying to pretend I haven’t heard. I could go totally deaf I suppose and blame it on the decibel level that I have had to endure. Hmmmmm.
We think we can get homes for maybe two of them, but that still leaves two.
Anybody wanting to adopt, just drop the website a line.

Vegetable Output

Shockingly vast, but the neighbours are loving it too.

Weather

Phew!

Ciao, mantenere la fede

With one leap he was free ………

I don’t know whether many of you will remember the comedian Tony Hancock. He was very funny. In one of his shows, he was trying to write a novel. The chapter he was finishing off had his protagonist chained up in a dungeon with no hope of escape. Things looking pretty bleak. He wrote down the next chapter number and then stopped and chewed his pencil for a bit trying to work out which way to go with the story. Then, as inspiration hit him, he started off the new chapter .. “With one leap he was free ……………….” Obviously needed a bit more work.
Anyway, the culprit this heading refers to is of course Bertie.
La D and I have spent money we hadn’t intended spending on fencing to keep pigs out and, more importantly, Bertie in.
Bert, for some reason, hates bicycles (I think he hates motorbikes too actually).
The husband of the lady who teaches us Italian came down the lane in all his super cerise cycling gear. We don’t really know why he came down our lane as our lane is a dead end and he knows that, but that’s beside the point. Bertie started barking as he passed the front gate and then hared off round the house to the back gate and followed on barking. He then turned round and went back up the lane to the road. Bertie did his barking at the back and then came round to the front like an exocet. Then without a blink made this beautiful jump high above the fence into the neighbours, ran over their garden and got to the lane just as the man got there too and started really “kicking off” (La D’s words) at him. Sensibly the man just got off and put the bike between himself and the dog.
By this time we had picked our chins off the ground, grabbed the lead and ran up the lane after them both.
We were desperately embarrassed as you could imagine. He was full of apologies too, we were not sure why.
We got the beast under control and brought him back home and gave him a good talking too, but I don’t think it had much of an affect.
We have reinforced part of the fence with some rescued pieces of our first gazebo. We do try and recycle stuff as much as possible.
We really do not want to chain him up outside, but we will have to see. However, when we arrived here we found an old exercise bike. We got it out and sat on it whilst Bertie was watching and did some cycling and Bertie barked and tried to bite our ankles. We are trying to do this pretty often whilst kicking , sorry, talking to Bertie to see if we can educate him. Stop sniggering.

There’s something in the woodshed – not Divine Comedy though

They’ve gone and done it again. Starlight the littlest community cat has given birth to four gattini in a large box in the woodshed. I keep all sorts of old cardboard stuff to light bonfires with in the cooler times of the year.
La D of course has gone all maternal and clucking about them like some mother hen. We have moved them into the laundry room, like we did with Mum’s brood last February/March. But we will have to see if the same fate awaits this lot.
Bertie seems very good. When they were in the woodshed, he would often go and listen, cock his head as he heard the tiny mewing and look in on them and he and Starlight go and lie down not far away. More things for him to guard. Very lovely. Just don’t introduce any food to any other animal whilst Bertie is around.
He is of the firm, immovable view that any food not destined for human consumption is his. It’s his inalienable right to eat all scraps. He’s quite forthright at dealing with any misinterpretation.

Mum of course is also pregnant again but I am desperately trying to upturn any thing that could be a likely birthing box and keeping doors to outside buildings shut. We really do not want to assume responsibility for more living things. Bertie is quite enough thank you.

Summer is here

As soon as the boys went back, the weather stabilised and it’s now very warm and sunny, everyday. The forecast is for it to continue for quite a while. But, man is it hot. It was 40 in the shade at the back of the house around 13:00/14:00 today. I’d made a moussaka with our first eggplant. It was lovely, but I very nearly melted and disappeared. Fortunately La D had the foresight to make me stand in a pan while I did the cooking so that if I did melt completely, I could be reconstituted when it got a bit cooler. Phew. That was fortunate.

Orti – vegetable patches

They are going great guns because of all the rain and warm conditions. We’ve got loads of cucumbers just about ready, we’ve already had our first zucchini. The big tommies are looking seriously like world beaters in the size stakes. We have had loads of cherry toms already, and lettuce and early spuds, as well as peas and beans earlier on.

We have got a lot of stored water ready to go and it looks as though we will need it sooner rather then later.
La D has come with an ingenious uses for old plastic bottles, well two uses actually. She cuts them in half and use the top half, minus the screw cap and buries it beside a new veg she plants. Then she just fills it with water every so often and all the water is directed to the roots. Ingenious, eh. I did try and point out that I suggested we do that last year.
I just get the imperious look and a “Don’t be silly L’uomo chi fa, haven’t you got a TPU to get on with?”
The other end of the bottles go over small stakes used to help keep small plants straight. When we were weeding the other day, la D got a nasty cut on her arm as she caught it on the top of one these stakes. Well, that won’t happen now. She’s pretty smart La D is. Brilliant

Ciao, mantenere la fede

With one leap he was free ………

I don’t know whether many of you will remember the comedian Tony Hancock. He was very funny. In one of his shows, he was trying to write a novel. The chapter he was finishing off had his protagonist chained up in a dungeon with no hope of escape. Things looking pretty bleak. He wrote down the next chapter number and then stopped and chewed his pencil for a bit trying to work out which way to go with the story. Then, as inspiration hit him, he started off the new chapter .. “With one leap he was free ……………….” Obviously needed a bit more work.
Anyway, the culprit this heading refers to is of course Bertie.
La D and I have spent money we hadn’t intended spending on fencing to keep pigs out and, more importantly, Bertie in.
Bert, for some reason, hates bicycles (I think he hates motorbikes too actually).
The husband of the lady who teaches us Italian came down the lane in all his super cerise cycling gear. We don’t really know why he came down our lane as our lane is a dead end and he knows that, but that’s beside the point. Bertie started barking as he passed the front gate and then hared off round the house to the back gate and followed on barking. He then turned round and went back up the lane to the road. Bertie did his barking at the back and then came round to the front like an exocet. Then without a blink made this beautiful jump high above the fence into the neighbours, ran over their garden and got to the lane just as the man got there too and started really “kicking off” (La D’s words) at him. Sensibly the man just got off and put the bike between himself and the dog.
By this time we had picked our chins off the ground, grabbed the lead and ran up the lane after them both.
We were desperately embarrassed as you could imagine. He was full of apologies too, we were not sure why.
We got the beast under control and brought him back home and gave him a good talking too, but I don’t think it had much of an affect.
We have reinforced part of the fence with some rescued pieces of our first gazebo. We do try and recycle stuff as much as possible.








We really do not want to chain him up outside, but we will have to see. However, when we arrived here we found an old exercise bike. We got it out and sat on it whilst Bertie was watching and did some cycling and Bertie barked and tried to bite our ankles. We are trying to do this pretty often whilst kicking , sorry, talking to Bertie to see if we can educate him. Stop sniggering.

There’s something in the woodshed – not Divine Comedy though

They’ve gone and done it again. Starlight the littlest community cat has given birth to four gattini in a large box in the woodshed. I keep all sorts of old cardboard stuff to light bonfires with in the cooler times of the year.
La D of course has gone all maternal and clucking about them like some mother hen. We have moved them into the laundry room, like we did with Mum’s brood last February/March. But we will have to see if the same fate awaits this lot.
Bertie seems very good. When they were in the woodshed, he would often go and listen, cock his head as he heard the tiny mewing and look in on them and he and Starlight go and lie down not far away. More things for him to guard. Very lovely.








Just don’t introduce any food to any other animal whilst Bertie is around.
He is of the firm, immovable view that any food not destined for human consumption is his. It’s his inalienable right to eat all scraps. He’s quite forthright at dealing with any misinterpretation.

Mum of course is also pregnant again but I am desperately trying to upturn any thing that could be a likely birthing box and keeping doors to outside buildings shut. We really do not want to assume responsibility for more living things. Bertie is quite enough thank you.

Summer is here

As soon as the boys went back, the weather stabilised and it’s now very warm and sunny, everyday. The forecast is for it to continue for quite a while. But, man is it hot. It was 40 in the shade at the back of the house around 13:00/14:00 today. I’d made a moussaka with our first eggplant. It was lovely, but I very nearly melted and disappeared. Fortunately La D had the foresight to make me stand in a pan while I did the cooking so that if I did melt completely, I could be reconstituted when it got a bit cooler. Phew. That was fortunate.

Orti – vegetable patches

They are going great guns because of all the rain and warm conditions. We’ve got loads of cucumbers just about ready, we’ve already had our first zucchini. The big tommies are looking seriously like world beaters in the size stakes. We have had loads of cherry toms already, and lettuce and early spuds, as well as peas and beans earlier on.

We have got a lot of stored water ready to go and it looks as though we will need it sooner rather then later.
La D has come with an ingenious uses for old plastic bottles, well two uses actually. She cuts them in half and use the top half, minus the screw cap and buries it beside a new veg she plants. Then she just fills it with water every so often and all the water is directed to the roots. Ingenious, eh. I did try and point out that I suggested we do that last year.
I just get the imperious look and a “Don’t be silly L’uomo chi fa, haven’t you got a TPU to get on with?”
The other end of the bottles go over small stakes used to help keep small plants straight. When we were weeding the other day, la D got a nasty cut on her arm as she caught it on the top of one these stakes. Well, that won’t happen now. She’s pretty smart La D is. Brilliant

Ciao, mantenere la fede

A bit of sad news

One of our lovely Springers that we left in England has had to be put down. Poor Lucy was living with La D’s son (she was really his dog) and his dog Harley, also a Springer. She was getting on in age but she was a game old bird up to the end. She will be missed by all of you who knew her. Still she is up in dog Nirvana playing with Maisie and Jazz. She had a lovely life.

Visitor Report

We have a had a great time with the “boys”. Bert is very enamoured with them. We took him to the airport to meet my youngest. He was all over him like a fake leopard skin leotard – I thank my second son for this description. People were looking and smiling at this huge white dog fussing over this tall blond boy. It was a great sight.
We didn’t take him to the airport a week later to meet no. three son as the boys wanted to stop off and buy a football to knock around, which they did.
Now, I did say that it was quite warm at the moment but they thought I was just fussing. I reckon they must have played with the football all of 27 minutes.
We have had some good walks with the dog and a few trips to the beach. The water is just fantastic. Lots of playing with bats and ball, Frisbee, etc., etc..
The first week was set apart from the second in that my youngest was quite happy getting up around 10:00, but when his brother came, that went back to about midday. Still it allowed us to get on and do some chores and work.
The weather was always pretty warm but there was a bit of rain – see the next section – but it was great at the beach.
We thoroughly enjoyed having them over and look forward to seeing them over here again as soon as we can.

Rain? No, Tempest

Last Sunday it was my turn to get up and see to the dog. As I was lying in bed contemplating my duty, I heard a few drops of rain on the shutters.
“I wonder if we left anything outside last night?” I said to myself.
I got up pulled on a pair of boxers – well you never know who might be passing by, I had to make myself a little decent – and hurried outside and sure enough there were a few things on the table. I quickly picked them up as the rain started to get a bit heavier. By the time I got back inside the heavens had opened. But the worst bit was that the wind was picking up and the rain was flying all over the place. I have never seen anything like it actually. Then the thunder and lightening began. You know the old saying that if you start counting in seconds after seeing lightening until you hear the thunder, it will tell you how many miles the lightening is, or was. Well this time they were concurrent. The noise of the claps of thunder was just immense. It seemed as though the air was being shaken.
By this time. La D was up, looking slightly concerned. Bert was looking at us as though he was thinking, “What’s wrong with you two? Never seen a bit of thunder and lightening before?”
Then youngest son appeared and enjoyed the natural firework display.
Then the rain suddenly became even stronger and there was a loud crumpling noise.
“Oh no! Look at the gazebo!” La D exclaimed.
A large gust had just picked the gazebo up, ripped it out of the brick weights I had put in place on the uprights, and thrown it into a corner against one of the Olives – the one that Bert uses as his little play area, where all his outside toys are scattered. The wind kept tugging at the canvas and at one point we were getting very worried that it was going to have another bit of a journey into our neighbours garden, but fortunately our fears did not materialise. You can see from the photos how bad it was. Ina few places the metal was actually broken in two.


























I do hope that this was very much a one off.


Unfortunately there was one fatality from the “stormette”. I promise you this was not posed, this is just as we found it.



Of course at this time of year, we are totally lost without some form of shade from the sun and we have had to buy another gazebo. Not something we had budgeted for at all, but there was nothing we could do about it.


The vegetables took a bit of a hammering, especially the courgettes, but the big leaves soon bounced back. La D had actually did some more tying up on the tomatoes the previous day, so they were fine.
Of the course the rain and the sun have a fantastic effect on the rate of growth of the veg but I am not sure we really need such large quantities of water delivered from the sky with quite the frequency we have been having. Hopefully we are in for a bit of quiet weather now, but we will have to see.

Ciao, mantenere la fede

A Pair of Great Tits!

Yes it’s true. I have spent part of the morning with a pair of Great Tits. La D is looking coyishly at me and a little giggly.

Now before you reach for your paper and pen and fire off a “Yours disgustedly from Tonbridge Wells” missive admonishing me for my base language and coarseness, let me advise you that I am talking about feathered Tits – does that sound even worse?

We have some GTs that have just fledged. One of them was sitting on a stone under a hibiscus bush (see photo below) and eventually managed to fly up to the roof where it was fed by its dad (judging by the plumage). The other little fellow was hopping about the grass under one of the olive trees. Bert thought it was manna from heaven! Someone or something had sent him a live playmate. Of course there was a problem. Bertie is a giant dog and the little GT was not much bigger than a tennis ball, and of course weighed as much as a clump of Bertie’s fur. The poor little mite was frantically about trying to get away from the huge white monster towering above him.

La D to the rescue. “Viene qui!” she barked at Bertie in Italian. Nil response. Although strangely I felt my legs quiver and started to move to La D almost automatically. “Not you, you idiot. The dog. You get the bird and put it somewhere safe while I look after Bertrum (La D likes to use a posh version of Bert sometimes)”.

I shuffled back ready to pounce on the little GT and save it from being licked and prodded to death by the playfulness of the dog, once Bertie was under control..

“Come here, now!” Still no response. We have a dog that’s disobedient in two languages. Top that.

Eventually Bert came to La D and I went and rescued the bird. I put him in the hedge at the side of the road. I don’t know whether he was safer there than with Bert really. But we tried.

A while ago I reported on having a Redstart’s nest up in the eaves. But I have only just discovered that in fact the nest is in a hole where the flue from the boiler comes out of the house. So we could actually see the nest and the little fledglings.

Unfortunately I wasn’t able to get a picture because the pipe work got in the way. But the birds are pretty big and I would expect them to be gone in a few days. Good stuff to have them here. The Redstart is a pretty bird.

L’Orto

The vegetable patches are going well. Everything seems to growing madly.

No more Colorado beetles, but I gave the spuds a quick blast again just for good measure. We have a few Whitefly on some of the young brassicas and again we have tried to warn them off. I did think of putting up little signs. You know Skull and Crossbones, Keep Off, Poisonous, Have You Come Here To Die? (no I came here yesterdie. Sorry, old joke. V unfunny)

However La D did point out, quite rightly too, that Whitefly, as far as she knew, couldn’t read. Bugger.

So, just nuked them.

Moles

For some reason, we have seen a lot of mole activity in the estate and I have been doing a little research on how to get rid of them. Not as easy as you might think. There are sonar gadgets that emit signals which moles are supposed to hate and move off somewhere else. I did read that in fact these are virtually useless and in one case, the mole population actually increased. Poisoning them with CO works but that involves getting an old car or motorbike, a pre-catalytic converter one, and attaching a hose from the exhaust and running the other end up the mole run. A bit of a clumsy solution I thought.

Then there are the Swedish plant bulbs. These are supposed to be anathema to moles and you sow them on a regular basis gradually filling your garden and the moles just keep moving away until they are no longer in your garden, and what is more, won’t come back because of the horrible plants. Incredibly expensive for us because of the size of area.

However, there is another weapon, that, for us, is free. Fresh dog poo or FDP (I love acronyms)

Apparently, if you break into a run and apply judiciously a little FDP from the end of a stick, and then cover up the run, the moles go away. I have read affidavits saying it works, so we may well have to try it. I’ll report back later.

It would be good to think that Bert would actually have some use in our household apart from being a drain on our measly resources.

Hot and Sunny

Yes it is. Nudging 40ºc in the middle of the afternoon under the gazebo. Man, that is warm.

We try and do any physical stuff, digging, planting, strimming, as soon as we get up, walk Bert and have a cup of tea. By about 11:00, we turn our attention to our sedentary work. Inside the house and particularly the office, is a lot cooler than outside.

We hardly see Bertie as he is lying in the coolest place he can find and most of the time, just sleeps. He seems totally attuned to the climate here. We are making progress, but we are not there yet.

Visitor Season

Next week my youngest son arrives for a couple of weeks. He finishes his A level exams this week. I expect he’ll be knackered, so a bit of peace and quiet, Italian style will do him good. Although we did check on the forecast and it appears that we are in for some rain when he arrives. Doh!! Still, can’t plan that.

Then the next week, my third son arrives for a week’s break, and then they travel back together.

We’re really looking forward to seeing them, getting out and about a bit and also introducing the Bert to them.

Ciao, mantenere la fede

The DIL

The poor old DIL has been into hospital for a “man’s” problem to be fixed. The operation went well, if you don’t count the loss of one of the scalpels and a bag of cotton wool after he’d been stitched up. He’s absolutely fine now and well on the mend. He’s had the Marchesa and the Contessa up to help him rehabilitate himself back into the groove, so to speak. So that will either cure him or knock him out completely. Only time will tell.

La speranza è ben presto

Self Immolation

The other morning, at some God forsaken hour, I was up making La D and myself an early, very early, morning cup of Red Bush tea, and I put the kettle on the gas to heat the water. I should say here that the cooker is half under the kitchen window.
I had just put on an old polo shirt as I usually feed the Berts and the community cats at the same time and have to nip outside with food.
I let Bertie out for a whiz and put his food down. He normally rushes back and gulps his breakfast as though it was his first meal for a month. This morning he didn’t.
I just stuck my head out of the kitchen window to have a look, but couldn’t see him. As I was doing this I caught a small whiff of burning and thought a loose thread had fallen onto the burner.
Then I looked down and saw a patch at the bottom of my polo shirt the size of my hand all yellow with flames.
“Oh dear” I thought “my shirt has caught fire. What a very silly boy I am” – actually it was a bit stronger than that but I am aware this is a family friendly blog.
I grabbed the hem of the shirt and rolled it quickly upwards and smothered the flames. Fortunately I didn’t burn myself , but I am now one shirt less than I was before the incident, which is not a good thing.
When I spoke to my brother about a year ago, he recounted the tale of him having set his jumper on fire when he was having a bonfire over in his house in Washington State, USA. I did think then, “What a tit” What is he going to think of his little brother when he reads/hears this?
Perhaps it’s in the genes. In fact I’m pretty convinced it is.

Weather

Definitely yes and no.
A week ago we were basking in sub tropical heat. Today is quite cool and rain, lots of it. Just like yesterday and just like tomorrow too if you believe the forecasters. Very odd. Still great for the garden and our water bill.

The Beetles from Colorado

Our potatoes have been invaded by the bloody Colorado Beetle. They are a real pest. Although we try to be as biological, eco and ever –so friendly in our veggie growing, but there comes a time when the only option is the nuclear one. Blast the bast**ds.
So I gave them a good dose of a permethrin based insecticide and they have gone down like ninepins. I stood over them in my shorts with my legs apart, large green plastic backpack sprayer on and spray lance in one hand and raised the other hand, clenched it tightly above my head and roared “Oh yes. Death to the invaders” to no one in particular, but I found it quite intimidating.
We are hoping that there will not be a recurrence but if they do I’ll have to do an Arnie “I’ll be back!”

Dogs – yes, that’s right, plural

Bert’s previous owners contacted us at the end of last week and asked if we could look after Jess (Bertie’s sister) and Rusty (a very small, three legged mongrel) as they were nipping down to Roma to see an old friend.
We met half way between our homes and brought the two dogs back here.
Although Jess is his sister, she doesn’t look anything like Bertie. She is about two thirds his size and black and has a very short coat. Extraordinary really. Bertie and Jess didn’t stop chasing each other all the rest of the day whilst Rusty just took things nice and easy, he’s an old fellah.
The trouble with Maremmas is that it is quite normal for them to be out with the sheep all day and night for however long the shepherd wants them.
So yesterday it was tipping down when we woke up. Let the dogs out and immediately Bertie and Jess were at each other. Roaring round the estate, biting, nipping growling at each other and generally having a great old time.
We have never seen Bertie as dirty as he got, and stayed, yesterday. He was absolutely filthy. Jess was too, but being black coated it didn’t show as much.
Of course the house became wet and dirty too. At least it is all tiled floors so it is easy to clean.
We are just hoping the weather will change to a bit of the dry stuff, which it is due to in the next couple of days.




























Update on passed away neighbour

I know it’s an odd title about a person who has died.
Her eldest son came to see us a couple of days ago with an envelope. In it was a small card, with a picture of his mother and a few words attributed to Saint Catherine of Siena. It is a very simple but extremely moving memento to have been given. It takes pride of place on one the new shelves we have put up in our dining/sitting/reading/TV/everything room.

Ciao, mantenere la fede