Christmas Special: pain, plumbers, parties, plane delays, pricey luggage, pining for pines, poorly kitten, peturbation, panettone and prosecco

Juliet writes:

BUON NATALE TUTTI! At this festive time of year, we are missing you all very much.

I am writing this in the glorious sunshine on the day of Christmas Eve. Presents are wrapped, wreath made, olive oil bottled, cats asleep, husband in good health and all is well… for now!

However, it’s been a bumpy ride to get to this semblance of normality and peace.

A few days after my last blog entry, P woke me up in the middle of the night in agony. I am not talking about your usual ‘I am a man, my eyelid hurts a bit and thus it is the end of the world’ pain… I am talking about serious howling accompanied by a full repertoire of cursing that would give Mary Whitehouse rather a lot to write about. Poor man – I hadn’t seen him that unhappy in 10 years. It was those blasted kidney stones again. Or, more accurately, as we discovered half an hour later at the local Pronto Soccorso (emergency ward), it was the damage done by the kidney stones leaving his system. Ouch. Anyway, after a morphine drip and some gentle sympathy from all around him, I took him home. In fact the damaged tissue healed pretty quickly and he was back to his usual self within a day or so. Although, as my dear husband refuses to follow the doctor’s advice and drink any water, I wouldn’t be surprised if it happened again. Only this time, he will probably have to walk to the hospital as I wont take him at 3am again!

Of course, being the Staveleys, this all took place rather inconveniently during our olive harvest, so I not only had to play nurse but also to spend a day being sole picker: climbing, hacking twigs and scrabbling about in the undergrowth gathering up those precious little black and green gems.

Despite being like an ironing board the next day, it was worth it… we took our two baskets to the local co-operative press and had such a fun 3 hours with mill owner Signor Valentino Rossi (no relation to the motorbike champion), various local farmers and neighbours (see pics). It was very interesting watching the process and asking/learning all about it (well, as much as our Italian would allow) – much more complicated and lengthy than we thought. Although we have only managed to produce a measly 7 litres of oil, it is fully organic, 100% extra-virgin and it tastes delicious. The bottles you get in Sainsburys are generally only about 5-10% extra-virgin, so this is pretty strong stuff by comparison. Anyway, we have managed to bottle a few little samples for our friends and family, so you must let us know (honestly) what you think!

We do at last have a builder (excited whoops of joy and relief!). In fact we have two: Stepan and Ivan – the Ukranian brothers who have lived here for 15 years and come highly recommended. We have seen their completed work on a huge old farmhouse and it’s flawless. Plus, they are quarter of the price of most others and, better still, they work through siestas and at weekends, so are fully optimistic that we will have a habitable house soon. Well as soon as we can actually start the work. More bureaucracy means that their contracts are delayed until we get a plumber. Does anyone, anywhere in the world know a reliable, fast, cheap plumber?! Having waited 2 months to get a quote from the one we wanted, it came in at half our entire house budget so we are back to square one. We have got another 4 names to try for, but as you know it all takes time and nothing gets done over Christmas, so we are forcing ourselves to not worry about it until the new year.

In between, we have had various friends staying – Charlie and Jen (pics of more rude vegetables to the left) and Sammy (non-vegetable-related pics). You were all wonderful in putting up with our tired bickering and letting us run around manically trying to find olive oil bottles and builders. We can’t wait to see you again… if we haven’t put you off forever!

We also squeezed in a visit to Blighty, primarily for dad-in-law’s 92nd birthday. He is still doing amazingly well and we had a full itinerary of visitors, entertainment, fine dining and shopping. This included a lovely birthday tea at Oak House where we met more staff (all wonderful) plus the new ladies on his table, one of whom is 105 years old, going on 20 – a true inspiration! Then we were treated to a fun jazz carol concert during which P and I embarrassed ourselves by dancing and singing (neither of us can do either well). The celebrations were rounded off with a super dinner at a local hostelry with son number 2 James, plus dad’s lovely friends Paul and Carolyn. Much fun and many bottles were had. We did have one heartbeat-skipping moment when we were visiting mum-in-law’s grave and dad took a balletic dive onto P’s foot. Luckily no harm was done, and a whisky and a sponge down aided full recovery. Thanks for a lovely few days Poppa.

Then we shot off to London to see mum in time for my birthday. I felt so utterly pampered as I awoke to a glam haircut/style at home by Toni & Guy hairdresser (Laura, you are fab), followed by a girlie shopping trip and an hour’s blissful massage. So removed from anything in Italy, where I go for months without anything remotely resembling a beauty routine. Then followed a lovely impromptu afternoon tea with Marion, Adam, Sylvia, Maria and little Dominic before I was whisked away for dinner and a trip to the West End (I do miss London and it is a thrill to be back in one of the most beautiful, liveliest capitals in the world). We watched the musical ‘Imagine This’: based on a family in the Polish ghetto in 1942, it is hardly cheery stuff, but I loved every minute of it. I am so sad to learn that it is being pulled early. Try to see it before it goes! To finish off my treats, the next morning mum cooked a super full English breakfast, including the veggie sausages which I have missed so much, and invited friends over. Thank you mums for one of the most memorable birthdays I’ve ever had XXXXX

Then we forced ourselves away and managed to see our Teddington friends (well, the ones who hadn’t come down with flu/lurgy), including some fun hours with Anya and Chris, a gorgeous lunch with Natters, Matt and Caitlin, a quick drink with Rod and Alex (we will get you over here soon to sample our wine!) and the perfect afternoon with the Brosh gang, just relaxing, playing with the girls and eating delicious cake. Heaven!

Our return home was blighted by the fact that (a) we missed our check-in by five minutes due to a 10-mile tailback on the M11 and (b) our excess luggage cost the same as the national debt of Iceland. Thank you RyanAir. We love you so much. But in the great scheme of things, it didn’t matter a jot as we managed to relax and find a nice pub while we waited for the next flight. And back in Toscana we have had lots of distractions to keep us from any self-pity…

Firstly, during a thunderstorm, the beautiful, original 16th century artesian well in our cloisters has been smashed to smithereens. I learnt my first Italian swear words the afternoon I rang Giovanni to let him know. Poor man – it will no doubt be very costly to get archeologists in to restore it in time for the weddings in Spring.

Then, our dear friend Sarah damaged her back on her birthday so we went round to offer emergency massages, sympathy and wine. We had a super impromptu evening catching up with their youngest son, baking potatoes on an open fire and watching the Strictly Come Dancing final… all quite surreal for us as we have had no TV for 8 months.

Next, on consecutive days, our two dear felines got stuck up the same tree. Weed was easy to pick off at a mere 30 feet up, but Tumble decided to out-do her big sister and climb twice as high. Poor Peter had to get the builder’s ladder out to full extension and ascend – slowly and wobbly through all those scratchy pine needles – and spend half an hour persuading her to be prized off her favourite branch. If that wasn’t enough, the next day poor little kitty had an appointment to have her bits snipped. After two days, she is now walking around with slightly less wincing but in need of lots of love. She is still prefers weeing in the bidet rather than outside but I can’t pick her out of it without hurting her so I am just letting it go (or rather, letting her go) and using lots of detergent until her stitches are out. At least she is eating properly again and eyeing up our baubles with a little too much enthusiasm for my liking.

And finally, we had our first Italian earthquake yesterday! Or more precisely, two earthquakes. One at about 4pm, one at 11pm – both mercifully small. So small, in fact, that P didn’t believe me when I squealed with excitement and shouted “Terramota!”. He spent the rest of the time looking at me like I was bonkers until he read the Times Online this morning and hung his head in an apologetic manner.

But now – thankfully – all is quiet and we are thoroughly enjoying the run-up to Christmas. For those who know me well, I usually dread this time of year – stressful, tiring, expensive and, with all that food and my tummy problems, very painful. However, looking at the snow-capped mountains and pine trees in the sunshine and the plethora of stars at night, one can’t help but feel festive. We are off to our friends Simon and Sarah tomorrow for a full British turkey meal and drunken charades. Can’t wait. But the rest of our Natale is very Italian. I have interrupted this blog twice because local friends have come round bearing – what else? – panettone and prosecco of course. They have made us feel so welcome. The shopkeepers have all given us little gifts too – from flowers, plants and calendars, to things we don’t even recognise or know what to do with. The local children have adorned the Christmas tree next to the Medici fountain (sorry, I just love saying that we have our own local Medici fountain, don’t I?!) with letters to Father Christmas. ‘Babba Natale’, as he is known here, has been asked for everything from a large red plastic truck to world peace. The live nativity was wonderful. Carols, a real donkey and a baby Jesus (although the latter had a dummy in his mouth which rather ruined the authenticity). We are even going to our first Catholic midnight mass tonight at our local church – sorry vicar!

It is all much more low-key and traditional here, although, being Italy typically there are a few bazaar things to keep us on our toes. I leave you with the Special Christmas Hamper offer at Conad (the big supermaket in Aulla). For only E10, you too can have a very seasonal:
Two packets of lasagne sheets
One bag of lavazza coffee
One bottle of fizzy pop
One panettone (just in case you don't already have enough)
Some tinned spam (mmmm) and
Not one but two whole packets of frozen peas!

Tempted?

Whatever you are up to, we wish you all a very Happy Christmas and may your 2009 be filled with love, laughter, good health, prosperity, peace and lashings of fine wine.

Lots of love and festive kisses to you all.

Felice nuovo anno e salute!
XXXXX

NB Don’t miss our first 2009 Special Report: Panettone... 1,001 uses, from toilet cleaner to emergency shock absorber

Otto Mese (8 months): Building site, bureaucracy, blisters, baskets, ball games, baritones, burning midnight oil, bizarre house guests, bloody cat...

Juliet writes:

Sono stanco! (I’m knackered)

I am typing this while sitting on newspaper, to protect the chair from the dust that has accumulated on my bottom. We spend each day on our dusty, rubble-filled building site. Officially, however, it isn’t a building site (shhh – don’t tell anyone), because at last we now have all our permissions. This means that, apart from ourselves, no-one is allowed on site that isn’t registered and contracted via the geometra. We were planning on hiding Jim in a cupboard when the authorities come round to check, but we don’t actually have a cupboard. And the implications if we are caught are pretty scary: Fines, imprisonment and worst still, closing down any works on site for an indefinite period. So, we are hanging tight and have asked Jim to take work home with him instead. Poor man – it’s harder than it looks trying to smuggle bits of banister and shutters into a car when no-one’s looking.

Anyway, hopefully this shady activity will only be transient - we are having a second meeting with a promising builder on Wednesday and it’s a toss-up between him (Guiseppe) and a pair of brothers (Stepan and Ivan). We should know for definite by Friday and then we can ask Christian to draw up the contracts and get the health and safety sorted, including the erecting of the obligatory signs and bright orange fencing all around Lecci. I am so excited about the prospect of official rubble and dust. I wonder if one can buy pretty hard hats on Ebay?

Well anyway, it all sounds simple doesn’t it? Just a few more forms, some contracts and at least 1,000 signatures stand between us and the beginnings of our dream home. Have I told you before just how much we love bureaucracy?

As we are relatively guest-free and builder-free now, we have been whiling away the days knocking the poor house apart, continuing to sort out the garden and sourcing baths, wood, marble, stoves, tiles etc for the time when it is civilised enough to fit them.

We now have the dining room flooring design sorted and the marble factory to make it up for us (we are even allowed to watch it being made, within metres of where the marble for Michangelo’s David was hewn)

We are also pretty damn near to getting a plumber. Only 8 months to source one aint bad. We should be getting the final quote this week (allegedly) and they can start at the beginning of next month. We are not sure if we can afford underfloor heating, but we would love this – especially in a country with no carpets – tiles can be pretty chilly at this time of year!

Just as we managed to scrub the grape stains off our hands and clothes (the wine will be ready in about a month – whoopee), we are now covered in blisters, scratches, splinters and twigs from the olive picking. It is a slow job (isn’t everything here?!), as each little extra-virgin olive is so precious, but we have been thoroughly enjoying our very first harvest. We only have 5 really fruitful trees out of 20, but it takes forever to shake, poke, pluck, prod, climb, fall off, swear and climb up again. Peter has taken great delight in making long poles to whack the branches with and persuade the stubborn little buggers to jump while I scrabble about on hands and knees with nets and baskets and climb the trees to handpick the most clingy stragglers. We have spent an entire day, done 2 big trees and 4 small ones and only filled one little wicker basket. Hrumppfh. Rain (yes, it does rain here!) has stopped play for the time being but we are hopeful that we will fill at least one more basket before skipping off to the cooperativo and persuading them to process our meager wares. While P can normally be found with heavy and noisy equipment in some dark corner of the house, I keep my distance with sandpaper and chisels in another corner, so it’s been lovely just spending time alone together in the peace and quiet of the garden, sharing the same job and having a laugh along the way.

We have managed to have a few ‘posh’ days recently (ie dust and twig-free). First up was the arrival of Charlie and Jen for 5 days. We all wanted to take it very easy, which involved lying in most days, fondling yet more strange-looking vegetables (see pics) and the consumption of a scary amount of wine and cheese. They were kind enough to insist that if we did anything at all, it should be in places we haven’t yet been to ourselves. So we had our first experience of Palma beyond the airport, taking in a very posh antiques exhibition (including an original Picasso, artifacts from the far east and some beautiful 3,000 year old Persian glassware), lunch in a great wine bar and a bit of window shopping. All very elegant and picturesque, although the heavens opened and Jen and I spent the trip back with our socks on the car heater vents! A couple of days later, we ventured into Forte di Marmi - 45 minutes from our house and the third most expensive seaside resort in Italy (after Capri and Portofino). Pretty tree-lined avenues with Georgian and Edwardian houses, piazzas with fountains edged by eateries and hideously expensive designer shops and a relaxing, if slightly snotty atmosphere. Again, not great weather, but we did manage to walk along the old pier right into the sea, visit a stove shop to source our oven, and spend some time in the marble factory mentioned above.

Next up was the ruggers match between England and South Africa last weekend. We were kindly invited around to Matt and Sue’s palatial priory with Simon and Sarah to watch it on Sky. It was heaven to sit on heated cotto in a beautiful clean house, eating Sue’s delicious home-made samosas, sipping vino and trying not to laugh at all the swearing and yelling from the men.

We also got the chance to admire their tiny little chapel, which they have now renovated sympathetically. You can see the original murals and Sue has put candles and flowers in it. I may just use it to pray for salvation when Lecci becomes an even worse dust pit!

And finally, yesterday when we went to Lucca for the brilliant once-a-month antique fair that winds through the narrow cobbled streets. We were hoping that we might be able to pick up a reasonable old sink for the kitchen and fireplace for the dining room. But alas, the streets were completely empty. (Typically Italian – we found out from a waiter that the stallholders just fancied a different day, so they just went ahead and changed it without notice to the weekend before). But our journey wasn’t remotely wasted. We had a lovely liquid lunch outside in the sunshine (not something you can usually do in Blighty at the end of November) and then wandered into the fantastic medieval Arts School where a local fair was taking place. In the vaulted, muralled rooms were furniture, jewellery, paintings, sculptures, wines, cheeses, meats and other local produce and crafts all for sale. But the most exciting event was a free 2-hour concert in the Great Hall with a super baritone, pianist and a choir. We closed our eyes and heard everything from Mozart arias to African lullabys. A great strategy by Peter to stop his wife spending money on strange cheeses and expensive portraits of Puccini.

Cats are fine - much more settled although still hissing at each other on a daily basis. Kitten is fast asleep and sprawled out across my hand/the keyboard as I write, so my blog is probably full of typos! Weed has obviously now developed a healthy wanderlust. Last week, Peter had to utilize ladder and bravado when she got stuck up a high pine tree for hours and then on Saturday, after we returned from the ruggers, we heard a distant meowing and located it to behind the shed door. We had to call our landlord to conduct another rescue mission, this time on a high beam in the shed. P shrugged his shoulders in defeat and got the ladder out again. We hope that she stays ground-based for a few weeks.

Which brings me to a Nature Update. We are the proud owners of Italy’s biggest mushroom (see pics above, taken in the garden just by our house). We are too scared to eat it in case our hair falls out, we grow extra limbs and our blogs make less sense than normal. But it is a wonderful sight to behold.

Also, today we spotted some strange activity in our bedroom at Lecci (steady on, all lewd readers!). Marked in the dust is a labyrinth of tiny tracks. Three different types in fact. It looks like a worm in a miniature tank, a baby bird on drugs and a caterpillar with a feather duster had a drunken race on the floor overnight. I have never seen anything like it in my life. If anyone knows any tribal trackers, please do send them on to Cerignano.

Only other things of note: P set fire to himself while cooking for some friends, proving two things: Firstly, my husband should never cook and drink at the same time, and secondly my pet name for him of 'hot stud' is now more appropriate than ever! If that wasn't enough he also managed to fudge the Shaguar security code (His excuse? “I was bored waiting for a shop to open and thought I might get lucky and put in the right code.” Only 1 million combinations – what was he thinking of?!) so his car was disabled in a car park 5 miles away overnight and his wife slapped him a couple of times as a result. Meanwhile, because the convent isn’t warm enough with just the pellet fire and I am often up late because of my tum, he is cursing me for burning enough paraffin each week to heat up Helsinki in order to stop myself from shivering. Slaps and curses…we are so romantic aren’t we?!

Ciao per ora tutti. And congratulations to Rob and Gina for starting the ball-rolling on your own Mediterranean dream home – we can’t wait to read your building blog!

XXXX

Sette Mese: Going missing, going home, getting warm, getting stung, grapes, ‘grandma’ and the gang of four, grinding, gazebo and GEORGE CLOONEY!!!

Juliet writes:

BOO!

Happy Halloween :o)

It’s certainly been a roller-coaster month since my last missive.

I’m sure that most of you are aware from my panic-stricken emails, Weed went missing for five days. Like a Wild West renegade, ‘Wanted’ posters were put up all around town, offering a small reward. In addition to the many supportive emails from friends back home (thank you xxx), our wonderful neighbours offered to keep an eye out and one lady even called with a possible sighting. In the absence of children, Weed is our furry equivalent – she is older than our marriage and her bewhiskered love has got us through many hard times. We were beside ourselves with worry. Then, as if nothing had happened, she nonchalantly turned up late one night, promptly ate four sachets of cat food and fell asleep on our bed for the whole night. We think she may have been accidentally locked up in one of the buildings at the nunnery as she was warm, dry, clean and tick-free. Anyway, much rejoicing all-round. What was so lovely was that for several weeks afterwards, many neighbours asked after her and were genuinely delighted to hear of her return.

Anyway, Weed is fully settled in again, back to hissing at the kitten (who has finally learned to wee outside and has almost stopped biting ankles) and seems fine.

During Weed’s impromptu holiday, we were nicely distracted by the ‘Vendemmia’ or grape harvest (see slideshow above). This involved P and I working flat-out in the beautiful October sunshine for one 12-hour day and one morning, filling 24 large buckets full of grapes – 16 white and 8 black. It should have been a much easier, quicker process but we were learners and the vines were very unruly. Many complicated yoga positions were assumed in order to reach the fruit and snip it off.

Then it was time to help out neighbours Leo and Elena Lanzoni with theirs, in return for them letting us borrow their pressing equipment. They ended up with 20 buckets of black and 10 of white (luckily roughly the same quantity of each colour when mixed with ours). Almost the same amount of grapes, albeit with 12 of us helping, took only 15 minutes to reap. Oh, for next Autumn when ours should be pruned, propped and promptly pickable.

That evening, we had a wonderful vendemmia dinner hosted by the Lanzoni’s with 12 friends and neighbours – all Italian. We managed to converse, mainly with gestures and imagination, over a few glasses of Guiseppe’s local rosso – not barollo or brunello but surprisingly good – very smooth and velvety.

Peter and I had great fun learning about the processing, which all took place in Leo’s garage complete with spangly new equipment. Did you know that the processing for white is utterly different from the black? (If you did, is your name Oz Clarke?) For example, while the white is left to rest after just three days, the daily processing for the red has only just finished (3 weeks later). As you can imagine, P thoroughly enjoyed tinkering with tanks, valves and sieves, while I cleaned up and helped with the pumping. It should all be ready to drink early in the New Year and the total crop works out at 800 litres – that’s 400 litres each (200 red, 200 white), which should last us a week or two, hopefully :o)

The day after the vendemmia, there was no time to flop as mum (AKA the cats’ grandma) arrived on her very first visit to Italy, along with my Aunty Anne . Thank you for persuading mum to get on the plane, aunty. We gave them the usual tour of the house and grounds, plus a day pottering locally and a trip to Portovenere, which mum absolutely adored. We then plonked them rather rudely on the train for a 4-day trip to Florence that I had organised. I think mum was smitten with La Dolce Vita, despite having a craving for egg and chips after 4 days of pasta and risotto! Due to a diary balls-up on my behalf, we then had a morning of manic cleaning, washing and ironing before the Gang of Four arrived in the form of Penny, Peter H, El Reado and Sue. Despite the lack of sun on some days and the erratic shower, much merriment, cheese and wine was had by all. You were all the perfect guests – positive, generous and helpful. And you wouldn’t even let us do the washing up! The most memorable moment came in the form of a sunny boat trip around the islands near the Cinque Terre. Pure heaven.

On the fourth day, we met up with mum and aunty again in Pisa, showed them the tower, had a lovely sunny lunch and drove them back to the airport for them to catch the same flight back with Penny and Peter H. Time to flop yet? Ah no. We had to zoom back to the nunnery to annoy El Reado and Sue who were staying an extra night.

Very sadly, the week beforehand, my dear friend Natalie’s lovely mum Ann lost her valiant battle with cancer. So after our guests had left, I had one day to organise things before flying back to Blighty myself to offer what support I could to Natters and her sister. It was a terribly sad reason to be back in the UK, but I was very glad I was there. And on the positive side, it was lovely to spend time playing with daughter Caitlin and her cousins, hug Natters as much as possible, have a chat with hubby Matt and meet the Irish family.

While I was away, P managed – for the third time in 7 months – to have a bad reaction to a sting from a large, nasty Italian waspy thing. When I saw his hand at the airport, I thought it was a marigold glove blown up. Poor man. I need to prod him into going to the GP here and getting an adrenalin epi-pen, as his reactions get worse each time and it has taken longer for it finally to look normal again.

You need some jolly news now, right? Well, at last we have a stufo and a heater at the nunnery so our noses have defrosted in time for winter – hoorah! Ok, that’s not exactly mind-blowingly exciting stuff, but I cannot tell you how wonderful it is to be warm again.

As to Lecci, I have sourced and ordered a cheap claw-foot bath and some original 1920s door handles, while P has managed to secure some compensation for the missing bits of our kitchen. He and Jim have been cracking on with the wall grinding, although it’s a slow business. I am trying to sand down the doors, also a slow business. But at least we are keeping out of mischief and keeping out of the storms that have plagued us for the last few days. The high winds even ripped up our gazebo and threw it, in a mangled mess, into a ditch 200 feet away from its original position. Oops.

You will be amazed to hear (not) that we still have no definite builder. Ennio – our first choice – cannot start until February and we have to be out of the nunnery by the end of March so we have had to turn him down. 8 weeks – even by UK standards, wouldn’t be enough to make our dust pit habitable! However, while I was away, P was introduced to Marco. A lovely-sounding professional builder with a whole team of experts just itching to make Lecci nice again. It depends on his quote, but he sounds great. Will keep you posted.

And the most exciting news in the last 7 months? Marco’s wife (an ex-Miss Italia contender… steady on chaps!) is a friend of a friend of George Clooney! AND he is house hunting in our valley!!! Last year – so the rumour goes - he was travelling around here on his bike and broke down up a mountain nearby. Some locals, who had no idea who he was, took him in, cooked him a typical Lunigianese feast and put him up for the night for free. Ever since, he has been enamoured with the beauty of the area and the kindness of the people (we can certainly relate to that, Mr Clooney). On the plus side, we could be neighbours with one of the world’s biggest sex symbols, plus all his celeb friends including Brad and Angelina. On the downside, every woman in the universe will want to move here, including my mother, and I am not sure that our marriage could withstand a visit from Brad (yum) or Angelina (P says yum)!

Will write a new gossip column in the next blog :o)

Ciao per ora. Hope you are all keeping warm and surviving the snow. XXXX

Sei Mese (6 months): Convents, cold, carpenters, charred body parts and collecting grapes

Juliet writes:

Cara amici,

Newsflash: We have moved. In one piece. With cats. And wine rack. Hoorah!

A big thank you to Simon McBride – international photographer to the rich, famous and alcoholic, and a dear friend of ours – who helped us valiantly and uncomplainingly with our move. We will give you our return unpacking services when you come to bella Lunigiana for good next month…

So here we are at the old Convento di Carmine in Cerignano, only a 5 minute walk to our wonderful Lecci. While we currently have only one kerosene heater to keep us warm, leaky taps and a fridge which hums loudly, the nunnery more than makes up for it with an abundance of squirrels (my first sighting of both a red and black!), birds, wild flowers, fruit trees, stunning views and sheer peace. Gone are the days of having to listen to Italian game shows at 10 million decibels from next door. No more are the long journeys home through steep, sharp bends. Away with the dodgy twin beds and naff kitchen. We now live in luxurious, spacious surroundings with only the distant eeyoring of a donkey to disturb the sanctuary.

We wake up every day in our beautiful carved mahogany bed, look up at the arched ceiling and peer out of the window at 17th century murals and a 16th century well in the cloisters below. Then we walk the two miles to the kitchen for a proper cup of coffee in a proper cafetiere on a proper hob.

Each day we go for a walk around the grounds (17 hectares) with Weed and Tumble. There is the lower route – winding fairly steeply through fields of wild flowers, bracken and pine trees to the river, waterfall and woodland dell below. Or we take the path around the nunnery walls, pass the church and crumbling ancient stone outbuildings and climb up to the top, where I wish we could bottle the view of Fivizzano, church spires and mountains beyond and post it to you all.

Many a noble Italian family clamours to have their daughter’s wedding reception here: they are already booked up for next summer. And for us it’s only £100 per week and we have it all to ourselves!

While the sun shines every day, the nights are now quite frosty. Thankfully our delightful new landlord/lady will install a stufo (traditional Italian wood or pellet stove/heater) next week, so the icicles on our noses should melt.

The cats absolutely love it here – so much space to explore, so many lizards to taunt –and there has been almost no hissing at each other. Yesterday they even ate in the same area at the same time with only one token growl from Weed. And on our walk yesterday they touched noses. We nearly fainted! Tumble has had a few accidents: one poo in the bidet (how convenient!) and a couple of wees in unsavoury places, but I think she is finally getting the hang of this garden toilet lark. The Marigolds are on standby just in case…

We feel so privileged to be here and I really hope you can come and visit the convent before we move – hopefully for the last time – to our own meagre surroundings. Dirty habits are optional :o)

All else is well. Hopefully we will collect our plucked and polished Jaguar tomorrow, so no more billows of smoke from the engine - hoorah. We both have our Carte d’Identita now. So it’s official: we are Italian residents (but British citizens for the moment). I think the admin chap at the Comune is a bit short-sighted – he has described Peter’s hair as white (not yet!) and mine as black.

At Lecci, we have arranged for the convent’s carpenter to restore and double-glaze our windows. We are meeting with the gas people this week. The electrician is in the wings waiting for the builder/plumber who is in talks with our geometra, also this week. Based on past record, please don’t hold your breath, but I hope that in a couple of weeks’ time, we will have permissions, so really can start knocking down walls and doing the big stuff before the onset of winter. Hmmmm, have you heard that before?

The Irish-English contingency are doing a sterling job of pretty much everything else. Jim has dug out a ditch for drain water, tweaked some windows so they shut, removed the old bathroom (at last we have a big kitchen!) and knocked out the floor of the little loo on the landing (at last we have a big hall!).

Meanwhile, P has been diamond grinding the walls. It took him a day to do just one and a half walls – only another 16 to go, plus 5 ceilings. Maybe the man at the Comune saw him do this because his hair (in fact his entire body) was white with plaster dust. He has also managed to severely bruise a finger carrying old stones around the garden and burnt his hair and one and a half eyebrows off while starting a bonfire (we don’t learn do we?!), so he looks really handsome at the moment :o)

I have had a bit of a break away from it all, trying to unpack again, catch up on admin and settle the cats in. Which is good because I tried weeding the veggie patch yesterday when I wasn’t feeling A1 and ended up slumped back at the nunnery on morphine. Oops. I guess there will be less heavy-duty stuff to do over winter, plus less guests, so I should recover.

However, next Saturday will be a hive of activity: it is Grape Day for our borgo, so we will not only be picking ours but also helping to pick our friends Leo and Elena’s in return for their winemaking skills. They have just become grandparents for the first time – a beautiful boy called Andrea, so they will need all the help (and wine) they can get.

Then, the very next day we have my mum and aunt arriving for 5 days. It’s mum’s first time in Italy, despite a life-time love affair with it (she hates flying), so that’s terribly exciting.

A day after they leave, we have the Gang of Four coming: Peter H and Penny Cooper who we met in Sri Lanka, and Sue and El Reado, from P’s debauched days as a tennis-playing, gin drinking batchelor. They are all bonkers and great company so it should be a hoot.

Then of course, it will be olive picking time. We only have about 25 trees, but it’s a time comsuming task as each olive needs to be de-leafed, de-stalked, cleaned and left to dry out for a few days.

Did I say that we would rest over winter? Oh good.

Ciao per ora, carissimo amici. Hope you are all keeping warm and well and surviving the economic storm. Miss you all dearly. XXXX

Ventiquattro settimani (24 weeks): Permissions, potions, pallets, progress, pets, packing and pretending to be asleep

Juliet writes:

Cara amici,

Where to begin?

Perhaps I should start with an apology for not having the time to keep you up-to-date until now…
It’s been getting very busy here, in between drinking and sleeping.

First and foremost, Peter received his citizen ID card today (whoop, whoop!) and I pick mine up tomorrow. The significance of this is more enormous than a pregnant hippopotamus… it means that we can now submit our second lot of permissions to the Mountain Comune (we are in the Garfagnana – a protected national parkland – so their approval is needed for all works).

It also means that we can register for national health insurance and thus sign up with doctors and dentists. Which is quite a relief because in the last week alone, P had an allergic reaction to a wasp sting and ended up with a hand like a blown up marigold glove for 4 days and I had food poisoning! We had to rely on ‘China’ – an ancient and very popular remedy that was first concocted/patented by the Fivizzano pharmacist in 1884 and is still going strong as a cure-all for absolutely everything. I think that you can even clean ovens with it and possibly use in nuclear power stations. Or at least you should be able to judging by the taste. Anyway, we are now fully-fit again, at least while I write this :o)

We also had our first house delivery… well, almost. There was no tail-lift on the vehicle, despite been promised such, and the young driver was rather unhelpful – much shoulder shrugging, head shaking, cries of ‘Madonna!’ and futile calls on mobile. So P, Jim and I were forced by hand to lift, lug and carefully place in our house 400 slate floor tiles (they are heavier than you think), an entire flat-pack kitchen and all the oak planks for the lounge and library. We only blocked the road for 20 minutes though (apparently you are allowed to block any minor road for up to 30 minutes without permission) because our wonderful electrician - who we had also blocked from his return home – leapt to action and kindly helped us with the lugging.

The most expensive kitchen unit (could it be any other?) is badly chipped, all the pelmets and kickboards are missing and several slate tiles are chipped. Apart from this, tutto bene! At least we have several weeks before anything is close to being installed/fitted, so this gives us ample time to shout at people on the phone. And it is exciting to have cardboard boxes in the house as we are a bit weary of dust, cement and general muck.

After this minor fiasco, the lovely electrician (Stefano), who bears an uncanny resemblance to Peter’s nephew Robin, gave us a very reasonable quote for the works. So at last we have one official employee – hoorah!

We are meeting with Christian (our geometra – strange Italian thing - cross between an architect and surveyor) this week to discuss the finer details of plumbing systems and septic tanks. What fun. Once this is submitted and approved, we can finally get quotes from the plumber/builder and hopefully start work.

That February moving in date is looking a bit far-fetched :o)

Weed continues to disown us, only coming home for food and hissing. We are very upset but hope that time (or at least another move) will bring her round again. Tumble has become much more affectionate and even more bonkers – leaping at absolutely anything, even things that don’t actually exist.

We are moving in two weeks’ time to our posher rental place – that nunnery around the corner from Lecci. We are very excited about it, although after 6 months here, we have accumulated so many possessions we may need another removal lorry. (Advanced warning: we have no idea about internet there yet so may be silent again for a while).

As I think I said before, September has been the busiest month for guests. We have enjoyed the distraction from floor digging and angle-grinding immensely. First up was the Royal Visit from The Broshes. Far too short a time (3 days) but we managed to cram in lots of things, including the Tango festival (we only saw one show with 7 Argentinian pairings, but it was absolutely breathtaking). Ella and Maia have really grown and it was wonderful being able to spend time with them and heaven catching up with Clare and Asi. We miss them desperately.

Second gang was Simon and Sarah – our soon-to-be Italian neighbours who are building a house 30 mins from us in Bagnone and wanted a place to stay while they prodded the building team. It was great fun seeing them, talking about Italian life, getting some tips from a couple who have lived here before, plotting work (Simon is a photographer who I have worked with before) and generally having a good giggle over pizza and several limoncelli. We really look forward to them renting here in November.

Third – and possibly most eventful – was a flying visit from my London-based Kiwi friend and ex-partner-in-crime at Transport for London, Allan Ramsay, plus his missus Heather. Walking them round the garden at Lecci was inspiring as Al is used to lots of land back home and reassured us that it was all manageable. (Thanks Rambo!) Sadly, they only stayed one night en route to seeing his sister/bro-in-law who were holidaying in the posh resort of Santa Margherita in Liguria (quieter version of Portofino). We joined them there for a fantastic evening of revelry. Unfortunately, our beloved Shaguar – which has been overheating for weeks – decided to do a pretty good impression of Ol’ Faithful and spit masses of steam out of the engine, so we ditched it at La Spezia en route and got the train. No problems so far. Lovely train journey, great company, delicious meal. However, little did we realise that there was an Italian train strike so the times were all up the spout. We only figured this out at 1am when we were en route back and the train stopped about 6 stations short. It was the last train until 7am the next day, the taxis had abandoned the station and it had started to rain (yes, it does rain here too!). Anyway, to cut a long story short, after unsuccessfully pleading with various hoteliers, police and random passers-by, we had to spend the night in the railway station. We got about 20 mins sleep because we were so cold and so unused to sleeping rough. But we managed to amuse ourselves with games of “Count the flies on the wall” and “Last one to shiver gets an imaginary cigar”.

Our old neighbour Kaz and her friend Alex left us this weekend after a 4-day stay. Peter was in heaven with two new ladies, as were the cats (Weed came back to sleep in their room and Tumble got lots of playtime). They were super guests – generous, fun, alcoholic and the best washer-uppers this side of the Apuane Alps.

Chloe arrives tomorrow (hoorah!). More excuses to drink, walk gently around our house (instead of trying to knock it down) and talk non-stop for hours as we haven’t seen her properly for ages.

And last but not least, we have Simon back again at the end of the month as his rental place has fallen through and he needs to find another one asap. Hope he doesn’t mind sleeping amongst packing boxes!

October will be quieter, which is just as well because we really ought to focus on… the…er… the…h… um….what… oh, yes, that house-type thing with no working loo.

Anyway, we love and miss you all and hope you are faring the teetering economy and bad weather that we read about online every day. We do worry about you! Please don’t forget us and send us your comments here, or drop us an email or, better still, call us on Skype.

Ciao per ora
XXX

19 settimani (19 weeks): Fridges, furniture, floors, friends and festas

Juliet writes:

Cara amici,

Life has suddenly got very busy!

We start with “A shopper’s guide to Italy”. My first reaction is ‘Don’t do it’! It’s a bit of a nightmare trying to get anything here. We love the fact that they don’t have department stores, big chains and sprawling metropolis multi-storey malls. We also think it is part of the Italian charm that 99% of shops, restaurants, hotels and workshops are small and run entirely by the same family (sons, brothers, daughters, nephews, grandparents… all are welcome as long as they share the same blood). Better still, we adore the fact that they generally give you free things/discounts. But on the other hand, trying to buy a fridge turned out to be as easy as bottling an elephant fart. While juggling.

Our various quests to La Spezia, San Stefano, Aulla etc (and I am convinced that we went through Switzerland at one point) would have been bearable if (a) it hadn’t been near to 100 degrees fahrenheit when we decided we desperately needed a fridge and some garden furniture (b) the car was working properly and didn’t require us to put the heaters on full-blast in order to stabilise the constant over-heating and prevent the car from blowing up (c) the opening hours of shops were anything approaching civility, reliability or consistency and (d) we had actually found items that didn’t require a second mortgage.

Still, at least we now have somewhere comfortable to sit and admire that breathtaking view and can drink coffee with milk that doesn’t go off in 3 nanoseconds.

I am also very pleased to report – at long bloomin’ last – that we have the deeds to our house, the permissions have been registered (should hear the response by mid-September), our residency permit is being processed and… BUILDING WORK HAS STARTED!!! It’s all informal until we get permissions, but our lovely Irish builder Jim (looks like God, works like a demon) has ripped out all the naff floor tiles with a vengeance only experienced by people who don’t like anything to do with the ’70s.

So blissfully we have rubble at last :o)

We are well on the way to hiring a great Italian electrician and specialist builder, plus we have almost got to grips with the various heating solutions available in Italy (this requires three master degrees, 5 years as a plumber, an innate knowledge of photovoltaic panels and five miles of tubing).

In the garden, Peter has heroically strimmed nearly all of the vineyard (which has equated to not less than 50 wheelbarrow-loads of grass cuttings so far) and has dug a trench for the underground stream to come up to ground level and thus dry out the foundations necessary for our swimming pool etc. All in stifling heat with only a pickaxe and the dream of skinnydipping to keep him going. No wonder he has lost one and a half stone and is looking very bronzed!

I have helped to tidy up the vineyard, done yet more pruning and have been trying to unmangle the fruit orchard. We now have a nice compost heap on the go (both Peter and Jim have been instructed to wee on it as much as possible as it is the best natural accelerant apparently!)

No longer is Peter called “City Boy” by Giovanni… in fact my dear husband spent all last week covered in dirt with his trousers held up by a piece of string. So his status as Regazzo dell’Agricola (Farm Boy) must surely be secured. Which is more than I can say for the string – luckily for us it was during siesta time when it broke and his trousers and underpinnings fell down revealing all equipment, so at least the neighbours were safe!

We have seen our first hummingbird moth – a beautiful creature (pic to the left), the eagles soar majestically above us most days and butterflies are aplenty. The vines are heavy with both white and red grapes – there is something so exciting about knowing that they will be picked and processed in about 3 months’ time (may this have something to do with our alcoholic tendencies?!) We have had our first peaches from the garden – absolutely the most delicious we have ever eaten. The fig and plum trees are on their second fruit and the few pears that have grown so far are almost ready for picking. Oh for a jam pan.

We had my friend Nat over for 4 days, including her birthday. As the three of us were fairly exhausted, it was lovely just to chill out, catch up, eat cake and spend some time at the house and pottering about Portovenere and Sarzana antiques street market.

September is our busiest month for guests – we have five lots of our loveliest friends over (including my Kiwi mate Al and missus Heather, old neighbour Kazzie, friends Patrina and Andrew and the delicious Chloe). We start the ball rolling with the Royal Visit from the Brosh family – our closest, dearest friends – we can’t wait to see you Clare, Asi, Ella and Maia!!!

Healthwise we are doing well, although P had his first experience of Italian hospitals when he got kidney stones. Very painful but mercifully fairly short-lived. He was seen immediately and thoroughly and the doctor and nursing staff were delightful. Knowing our track record of injuries and tropical diseases, we are so lucky it is just a 5 minute drive from our house!

To prove his return to health, P took part in the Fivizzano tennis tournament. Considering he hasn’t played for over 6 months, he did ever so well. First match was a three-set thriller against a very tall chap with mad hair who may possibly have been the Italian brother of Bill Bailey. 7-6, 6-4, 6-3. Sadly, this triumph was transient – the next match was against Fabio Potesta, a great tennis player. He, quite frankly, whipped Peter in two straight sets: 6-0, 6-3. But at least P got some practice and a tennis partner out of it (Fabio is lovely and is very passionate about tennis) and I got a sun tan. Our estate agent and our Carmine neighbour are the likely bets for the final pair… one to watch!

And in the meantime, if we don’t have enough to do, August is the month of festas. With most of Italy on holiday for four weeks, there are posters everywhere for concerts, wine tastings, food sagras and other general excuses to have fun. We have managed to squeeze in 4 so far this month. First was our local Cerignano festival where the Madonna is carried once a year from the church to the Carmine nunnery where she originally stood, and back to the church again. This was followed by lovely homemade food and wine and a rather manic raffle (we won some lovely plants, an apron, some kitchen knives and a rather strange ceramic thing in 3 pieces that we don’t quite understand or know what to do with).

Next up was a rather moving festa in a mountain clearing above Pallerone, which commemorated the war, in between the pole climbing, singing and hoopla. Here we met the organiser and local bar owner Orso (his name is really Guido, but his nickname means Bear, because he is big and cuddly). Between our faultering Italian and his English, he showed us around the unusual little chapel and shared a drink or six. Molto gentile.

Third was the bread sagra at Solieri – a mad karaoke affair in the middle of a field with fantastic food and very cheap wine. We sat next to two young and delightful Italian couples who happen to know some English friends of ours… it is indeed a small, small world!

And last weekend was one of the very best local events - a medieval disfida in Filetto – a small walled 15th century village which closes itself off to traffic for the weekend and everyone dresses up in gowns, tights and archery outfits. There were lots of stalls with local crafts, beautiful jewellery, leather books, cheeses, olive wood furniture etc and some fantastic performers, including a medieval quartet, a comedy version of Romeo and Juliet and an amazing trio who did astounding things with fire, chains, juggling balls and a diabolo.

This coming weekend is another notable medieval festa in the picture-postcard Pontremoli, with archery competitions, flag-throwing, food demonstrations and more cheap wine. It’s a hard life isn’t it?!

Take care all – please don’t forget us and do keep sending your news.

Ciao per ora.

J and P XXX
PS Weed and Tumble are fine… in fact kitty is trying to climb my legs as I write this… and I am wearing shorts (ouch!)

14 settimani (14 weeks): Blighty, bottle-feeding, builders and ball games

Juliet writes:

Cara amici,

It feels like a long time since I last managed to sit at the computer and write. So forgive me if this post is a little lengthy and/or rambling!

What news? Well, obviously we survived our first whirlwind 6-day tour of the UK. We even managed to smuggle Branston pickle and porkpies on the way back. Even though the weather was appalling and we didn’t want to leave Italy, we had a lovely time - everyone was so hospitable and generous. After a super couple of days separately visiting our old folks (thanks for putting up with us mum and poppa!), we had a sumptuous feast and catch up with James and Amy, a fun night at the Victories with their new pup and a lovely relaxing day with Sammy. We even managed to fit in a delicious lunch courtesy of Helen, drinkies with Kaz, June, Jean and the fluffbots and a trip to the theatre for my mum’s birthday. The latter was Noel Coward’s ‘Brief Encounter’ – part film, part theatre, part musical, part comedy, part weepy and part reminiscing on a gentle, romantic period with a super multi-talented small cast. We sat next to Imelda Staunton and just across from Patricia Hodge. Always a good sign when actors are part of the paying audience. It was one of the best productions I’ve ever seen. If you go to one thing this year, make it that.

The trip back made us realise that the only thing we miss about England (apart from porkpies and vegemince) is a few dear friends and family. And although we have only been here 14 weeks, Italy really does feel like home. This is especially the case when we are both at the house, pottering about pruning and raking in the sunshine and listening to the birds singing and the horses neighing – there is no better feeling of peace and happiness in our little world.

(See photo (left) of Peter with rake, trying to prove he isn't a 'City Boy' anymore!)

For all you cat-lovers, I am pleased to report that kitty is thriving (see recent pics above). Bottle-feeding for Italy, winning awards for weeing and climbing everywhere (the sleeping box is already too short for those claws). However, in kitten world, the poo tray is obviously for eating that delicious and nutritious cat litter and the saucer of milk makes a lovely swimming pool. We will persevere…

We are completely blessed with Anna and Hernando as neighbours as they are not only the nicest, smiliest people we have met, but they are also utterly animal mad. So while we were in Blighty, they were kind enough to volunteer to look after both ‘grande gatto’ and ‘gattini’ as well as water the flowers. They even took Tumble to their house so that they could provide love and milk around the clock. We had our first visit to the vet this week to conquer worms, fleas and other nasties and it turns out that ‘he’ is actually a ‘she’! Unless we were the proud parents of the only gay cat in Tuscany, Peter and I were beginning to suspect this may be the case as Tumble is far too pretty to be a boy. Weed is also doing very well and has been exceptionally soppy since our return. Every time she passes Tumble she stops for an affectionate sniff and I am sure they will be great friends within the next few months.

As to the house, things are beginning to get greener after The Great Fire of Cerignano, although it still looks like the aftermath of The Somme in places. Our grapes are growing well, the agapanthus are in full bloom and we have a large daily supply of fresh and juicy plums and figs, which P and I munch happily as we work, savouring the taste of fruit from our own land – there is nothing quite like it. We were terribly excited this week as we had our first Lecci peach… hmmm – maybe we need to get out more?! We continue to do gardening every day, but we are limited to a few hours due to Tumble’s appetite. Hopefully once she is fully weaned we can spend more time tackling the jungle and amassing a more impressive array of blisters, bruises, scratches and scabs.

For the inside, we have ordered some kitchen units and floorboards for the lounge/library, plus we have sourced the bath tub, Florentine tiles and most of the other flooring, the marble and granite and some lighting, as well as names/numbers of local craftsmen such as plasterers, masons, ironworkers and carpenters.

Things are – at long bloomin’ last – moving forward with contractors. In the hope of receiving our deed of sale in the next few days (nothing happens here without this), we had seven people round today to discuss the house. Thank goodness we took our kettle and some coffee from the rental place! Firstly we met with Elena and Leo who introduced us to their builder/plumber and sparkie. Then our other lovely neighbours Giovanni and Giovanna turned up with their delightful English-speaking friend Simona (wife of one of the firemen who helped us). With them, we discussed the possibility of project management, as frustratingly we do not speak enough Italian for such a complicated project. Giovanni has beautifully restored the 800-year-old nunnery and is also an engineer, so he is perfect for the job - not only does he know everyone from mayor to planning officers but is quite optimistic that – with the right approach – we will get our balcony and pool. Hoorah!

Peter now endearingly calls Lecci ‘Our Money Pit’. Yes, we are slightly concerned about the budget spiralling, but I suppose that was inevitable as foreigners with taste too fussy for their purse-strings. I will try to keep a grip on things as I am one for a bargain and we are both happy to take our time to find the best cheapest options. Realistically, we hope to have a comfortable (or at least habitable) home in time for P’s 60th next June and then a manageable garden, including (in our dream world) vegetable and kitchen gardens, thriving vineyard and olive grove, pool and pool house, fully-functioning pizza oven, terraces, beds and borders, steps and bougainvillea-covered lounging areas a year or two after that. And I mustn’t forget the chickens. So hopefully by Olympic year we will be open for minor royalty (fee-paying of course)!

Giovanni is also, rather handily, the Vice President of Fivizzano Tennis Club, so on Thursday P has his first game for about 6 months. He was quite nervous about his lack of practice, so I offered my ball-girl services and barley water for moral support – not sure if they helped though: the final score was 6-1, 7-5 to Giovanni. However, P came back really well in the second set and I am sure he will get into the swing of it again soon… if he has the time to practice in between hacking the garden to bits, sanding down walls and making up bottles of milk.

Well, I had better dash – that aforementioned rather operatic feline is flexing her lungs. Well, what do we expect from an Italian kitten?!

Lots of love and kisses to you all.

Ciao per ora.

XXX

J falls for dark handsome stranger, and he moves in!

Not a fireman (sadly), but the smallest, fluffiest, cutest little thing you could imagine.

Peter - henceforth known as The Hero of Toscana (to me anyway) - was clearing out a shed ready for demolition by a very large JCB. He heard a squeak and immediately stopped the workers from swinging the big claw of doom towards the area. Underneath 73 empty wine bottles and lots of dust was the source of the noise - a tiny kitten.

We think he is no more than 1 week old as his eyes are still shut. His mum was nowhere in sight, he was very hungry and scared, there were no other siblings and we thought he wouldn't survive that environment anyway, so after some emergency milk and cuddles, we took pity and took him in.

I am pleased to report that he (and I) survived his first night in the rental place, feeding every 2 hours and reassuring him (he isn't happy unless he is nestled up to a hand/shoulder/hair etc). He is drinking milk from a special bottle like it's going out of fashion and he definitely has good lungs. Despite efforts to keep our distance and realise that he might not make it, we have of course fallen hopelessly in love.

Even Weed has developed a slight affection (or more like bemused tolerance) of the little fellow.

Stupidly, having vowed not to become too attached, we have already named him: 'Tumble' (to go with Weed and also because the shed tumbled down and he does lots of tumbling as his little legs are still a bit squiffy).

Not sure how he will survive next week when we are back in Blighty - hopefully we can bribe some locals to provide around-the-clock care. Anyway, I will keep you all posted , for better or worse.

Better go now. Peter is trying to get him used to a shoebox, rather than our knees, for a bed and there is much squealing/swearing :o)

Much love to you all. Big kisses, Juls XXX

Un rapporto speciale: Fuoco, fuoco, fxxx! (A special report: Fire, fire, fxxx!) Exclusive, with pictures!

The Staveleys reveal how their Italian dream nearly went up in smoke.

We had spent a lovely morning at the house, clearing more sheds, pruning, quietly going about our business in the glorious sunshine accompanied by a nice breeze. Then Nino, Big Mo’s associate, turned up to get rid of the grass cuttings. Hurrah, we thought. In Tuscany, the usual method involves the creation of small bonfires carefully stacked in clearings and watched over vigilantly.

Obviously Nino – an old nutter with three teeth - is not familiar with such methods. He built a haystack not dissimilar to the leaning tower of Pisa, only with very dry grass and twigs, right next to some flammable trees only three feet away from a strimmer with a full tank of petrol.

You do not need to be a Mensa member to work out what happened next.

As we were blissfully ignorant with our shears on the other side of the tall leylandii, pandemonium was breaking out everywhere else. Peter panicked slightly when he thought he saw some trees going up in flames but I shamefully told him to stop worrying and trust the local man. More fool me :o) Anyway, we were finally alerted to the crisis by the terrific banging noises of our bamboo forest burning to stumps within a few seconds.

We spent the next hour (well it seemed that long anyway) trying to keep the roaring flames away from our (currently uninsured) house and fruit orchard. This task was made trickier by the facts that (a) the wind acted as a very effective bellows and (b) we do not yet know how to operate the pump that feeds the hosepipe with streamwater. So we improvised with wine buckets and baby baths salvaged from the cantina.

A comedy classic if ever there was one… but at the time we were not feeling very humerous!

Meanwhile Nino – AKA The Italian Pimpernel – had disappeared (how convenient), but we were blessed with the help of a much more talented fire-stopping neighbour, Gian-Paulo who had seen the flames from his house up the mountain. While he forked up as much fire as possible into contained heaps, Peter ran off to phone the fire brigade while I continued getting smoke inhalation with my baby bath method of extinction. It was a very close call – at one point the flames were literally five feet from the house.

By the time the cavalry arrived (in the form of six deliciously hunky firemen – ah, my Number One Fantasy fulfilled), the wind had died down and mercifully the fire with it.

While I rested, coughed, spluttered and filled out the obligatory forms (vainly hoping that the firemen didn’t notice that I was covered in soot, mud and water and had lost half my hair in the flames), my dear hubby surveyed the damage. As far as we could gather, half our olive trees are damaged, two rows of vines are frazzled (complete with the baby grapes), the previously healthy bamboo is now just a few pathetic burnt stumps, the pines have perished, the oaks look very unhappy, three fruit tress are singed beyond redemption, most of the grass is now a black blob and we smell strongly of barbecue.

However, mercifully no-one was hurt (even the Italian Pimpernel turned up, with no apology, just a sheepish display of gums), the house has suffered nothing more than the pong of smoke, our three specimen trees are ok, the main vineyard is still standing and my lovely little orchard remains unblemished. And as my optimistic friend Clare assures me, most of the other bits will grow back next year.

While we will have less wine this year (*sob*) and our plot of land looks pretty ugly, we are fairly upbeat about it all..

As of tomorrow, we will get house insurance, although I worry that AXA may put a huge premium on the place once they assess the charred remains! Furthermore, Peter will now be in charge of all pyromania activities (the irony is, he is actually rather good with bonfires, but got help in because there was so much to burn).

That’s all for now folks. As it has been our most eventful day so far, we are in need a stiff drink and some very effective soap.

Take care of yourselves and remember the moral of this story… never trust a man with the same number of teeth as brain cells.

Tre Mesi (3 Months): Lots going on (but no builders)

Juliet writes:

Cara amici,

Well, it’s been a busy few weeks, hence the silence (also, because we are now fully immersed in Italian culture and ‘domani’ always seems to be a good excuse not to do anything)

As realisation dawned that we actually now own the house, we have been trying to procure some workmen for Lecci. The geometra submits his plans in a few days, so we really should have a full, professional team just itching to start knocking things down and putting in pipes. Sadly, we are yet to even shake hands with the local electrician. It’s a much more informal, lengthy process here. We have two marvellous sets of neighbours who have done up a 200 year old farmhouse and an 800 year old Carmine nunnery respectively. They have all the best local carpenters, plumbers, metalworkers etc that we could dream of but they have kindly insisted on us meeting them at the same time as the relevant craftsmen to explain ‘how they work’ and to translate our needs. Unfortunately, as one family lives mainly in Milan and the other is very busy organising weddings etc at his nunnery, this is tricky. And of course, no two workmen can meet on the same day, so this is all taking time.

At this rate, if we are in by Christmas, it will be nothing short of a miracle.

Still, at least Mo has now strimmed all our land (so we can see just how bloomin’ enormous it all is). We still await the cutting down of the leylandii but it will probably be ‘domani’. P has broken the strimmer again, but has contented himself with the purchase of several big power tools costing the national debt of a large island in the Caribbean. As the summer has finally settled in, we spent all day yesterday being mad Englishmen and ripping out wire fencing/knocking down sheds in the midday sun. Peter could now be mistaken for a large lobster while my nickname has become ‘Strangely Brown’. We are both covered in cuts, bruises and blisters. And that’s only after one day.

Cannot grumble though. We have had three lovely breaks from quotations, weed pulling and looking for flooring. Firstly, when Sammy came for her return visit, we managed to explore some of the Garfagnana (huge protected parkland in the mountains) and had a lovely time swimming in the Med and visiting the tower at Pisa (along with obligatory cheesy tourist photos - see left). When Sam had had enough of our bickering and alcoholism, we had a 10-hour turn-around before Charlie and Jen came to stay (we were never this popular in Blighty!). The weather was variable (first sunshine, then a 5-hour, end-of-the-world thunder and lightning storm, then sunshine again), but we all managed to enjoy ourselves, eat, drink, laugh a lot, visit the seaside, try to be cultured and then give up and play with watermelons (also see left). It was a marvellous few days and we are looking forward to their next visit(s).

And as I write, we have just returned from a wonderful little holiday (mini slideshow above with proper version at http://picasaweb.google.com/julietgn/HolidayInVeronaAndLakeGarda) – three nights in Verona for P’s birthday, complete with Tosca in the most amazing open-air 2,000 year old amphitheatre and a bizarre evening in a pizzeria watching Italy lose to Spain amongst lots of burly locals all eating ice cream and looking stressed. This was followed by two nights at Lake Garda at a gorgeous family-run boutique hotel. Swam in the lake (beautiful, calm and cool) several times each day with 6 ducklings! We now feel thoroughly relaxed and ready to tackle the Lecci Jungle again. I did manage to lose my credit card somewhere in Verona, but it was worth it (although Peter may not agree as he is having to temporarily fund my Ebay purchases and awfully had to pay for his own birthday meal – I will pay him back though!).

In our serious efforts to get the house sorted (hmmmm), we have been doing lots of socialising. We spent our first full day at the beach courtesy of Donna, John and the kids (the Yankie gang). It was heaven, although swimming in the sea is not quite as civilised as the Italian lakes in my humble opinion. They are a great family and we have already hired Olivia to feed Weed in our absence and Grey to help with the garden.

Our first taste of Palazzi living came in the form of a delightful evening at Matt and Sue’s beautifully restored priory. Stepping through the inner courtyard with beautiful stone arches, gorgeous views and lots of quirky original features, the house itself is a little bit of paradise and their taste exquisite. A real inspiration. With three heart-attacks, plate throwing, a billion pounds and three years of tears, we make just be able to have our own version :o)

Our new neighbours, Leo and Helena, the Milanese couple with the renovated large farmhouse, are also set to become firm friends after a lovely evening last night. They very kindly treated us to a meal at a local argiturismo while we bored them for plumbers details etc. While Helena speaks very good English, Leo doesn’t, so we tried to practice our dodgy language skills as much as we could. Learning Italian grammar over 7 courses and 5 bottles is the most effective method we have yet found.

Ok I lied at the beginning of this entry... in by Christmas? We are never going to get the house done at this rate! That's the trouble with always choosing limoncello over quotations :o)

Hey ho.

Weed continues to enjoy hiding under the duvet and eating her way through Tuscany. When we refuse to give her more than 4 sachets a day, she graciously brings home live mice for us to rescue. We have now become an expert catching team with me locking up the cat and cornering the mouse while P gently scoops up the poor little creatures into a bucket and runs outside doing a convincing re-enactment of Born Free.

Wildlife report: We now have a new set of 5 baby birds in the window nest (still unidentified but cute). Also, we have our first close-up of a large cricket (see pic left) – a gorgeous chap. And then there are the dreaded flying stag beetles which are the size of teacups. Spotting a family of them at our new house has been the only time I have been squeamish: snakes, spiders, mice, hairy or wiggly things, no problem:- a black flapping thing with antlers nosediving into my hair is another matter. I am trying to figure out a way to capture and re-release them several miles away from Lecci, as I don’t think P can put up with my high-pitched screams each night for too much longer :o)

Ciao per ora.

Settimana nove (Week 9): Newsflash! We are homeowners!

Juliet writes:

Cara amici,

Well, it only took 3 hours in a notary’s hot, airless office with no water, 12 people, masses of paper, 3 phone calls to the bank, some very loud debates – all in Italian over technical things like sheds and 173 signatures. In conclusion, for better or worse, we are now the proud owners of Ca’ dei Lecci… hoorah , huzzah and tiddlypom!

Thanks to our dear new American friends, Donna and John, we celebrated in great style with French champers (I am sure that it should have been Italian prosecco really, but what the hell!).

Anyway, we are now free to demolish, rebuild, paint, plant and happily cover ourselves in dust and muck for the next few months/years. Most of the junk has been cleared out of the house now, bar a nice cabinet, two chairs, a bed and about 734 empty wine bottles. I know we are bonkers, but we are loving every minute of the project and are itching to return to hard labour when the latest onslaught of guests have gone (no offence Sammy, Charlie and Jen – we love you dearly!)

Actually, I appreciate the break from lugging strange and heavy metal things out of the cantinas as I sit here typing very slowly wrapped in a blanket. I appear to have picked up a strange tetanus-type lurgy. My fault for trying to get tics out of a local stray cat’s ear that I felt sorry for (who then took a swipe at me in gratitude). I cannot open my jaw properly, I get dizzy when I am upright and my right side is stiff and achy. No, my cynical friends, this is nothing to do with alcohol. At least P now has some peace and quiet as I can’t talk much!

Along with now being proprietari', we have also applied to become official Italian residents. As you can gather from our previous blogs, nothing is too simple here, although this event ranked lower in complication than our local supermarket loyalty card. To register with the questura (the local police), you need your passport, your fiscal code, your mother’s maiden name, your father’s occupation, your university address and your pet’s sister’s tennis partner’s hair colour. Try saying all that in Italian and you get some idea of what we experienced. It was hard to keep a straight face with some of the questions posed, but they took it all so seriously (something to do with anti-terrorism, although I don’t imagine that knowing my mother’s maiden name would prevent me from strapping hand grenades to my trousers)

What other news? Well, we thoroughly enjoyed Fivizzano’s Sapori (Taste/Flavour) last week. It’s a festival that celebrates local produce and crafts, and the medieval streets were filled with stalls touting free samples of meats, cheeses, truffles, breads, olive oils, wines, limoncello and strange cake-type things. Plus, we managed to pick up a couple of handy contacts – a very talented and friendly local metalworker and a stonemason. Once our stomachs were filled, our eyes were feasted to a flag-throwing display, complete with local girls dressed up in beautiful medieval gowns and a line of impressive trumpet players blasting out a fanfare. This is what one imagines Tuscany is all about… and it is! We met up with some English friends who live in nearby Comano and happily chatted the night away over six bottles of rather delicious local vino rosso. It was a very mild evening, the stars and cicadas were out and the view of the valley below was breathtaking. We sat in part-horror, part-admiration as Matt ate a lard sandwich (local delicacy – hmmm) and got some great tips from Sue, who has restored an ancient house in the mountains (she was a senior figure in the Italian/international fashion industry for years, so I imagine it is beautifully done. We are excited as we visit them next week).

There are now three more birds eggs in our resident nest – not sure whether they will hatch or not, but I am keeping an eye on them. The fireflies are out, but not as impressive as usual as the weather has been rather erratic. It was chucking it down with rain when I started typing this and it is now beautifully sunny. Maybe this shows how slowly I am typing? Anyway, we regularly indulge our love of nature and can while away a whole afternoon watching the eagles soaring in the mountains above (or listening to our neighbours – really, they are the main source of local wildlife!).

Well, my hubby is back from the shopping and we have to buff ourselves before picking up Sam from Pisa, so I had better sign off (also, my arm is starting to spasm!)

Love you and miss you all very much. Can’t wait to hear your news and find out dates when you can come and see our Italian home!!!

Ciao per ora xxx

Almost Italian homeowners

Juliet writes: Due mesi qui (Two months in)

Cara amici,

The celebratory vintage Brunello is on standby and things are hotting up in Toscana!

In three days’ time (Wednesday 4th June at 4pm Italian time), we will travel to the Notaio (Notary) in La Spezia, after possibly the most expensive visit to the bank in our lives en route. There we will witness the transfer of Ca’ dei Lecci from six quite mad old buffers to two quite mad ones. In the office will be all six owners, P and I, the Notaio, a translator, a lawyer (power of attorney is needed by law here, as we are not Italian speakers, so sadly I do not get to use my lucky pen on the house deeds) and no doubt several other office staff. I hope it is a big office, or at least that everyone is friendly! We can hardly contain our excitement – we have been waiting since we first fell in love with the house back in January (well, actually, since we first fell in love with Italy years ago) for this dream of ours to materialise and it is finally happening. Big whoops of joy from Careggia!

So from Wednesday evening, as we become ‘Proprietari’ (Italian homeowners), our blogs may become a little less frequent for a while as we happily involve ourselves in ripping down sheds and ripping up flooring. It may sound strange, but P and I are just itching to get covered in dust and mud after weeks of pottering about politely and gently pruning the odd tree. P has even threatened me with the purchase of a chainsaw that he has been talking about for weeks, along with a diamond grinder for the interior walls, while I muse on how to compassionately move the stray cats and hire a plough for my herb and vegetable garden. (Mum, Aunty M, Helen et al keen gardeners – if you need a free place to stay in Italy in exchange for some gardening advice and one hour’s weeding a day, please let me know!) Yesterday, we discovered the best, most reasonable and biggest garden centre I’ve ever seen and I just cannot wait to spend all my euros on strange looking palms and beautiful lemon and orange trees.

And best of all, the garden centre had proper prices on most things. This may sound like an odd thing to mention, but when it comes to shopping, one little Italian quirk that never fails to annoy my dear husband is the general lack of pricing. Yesterday, for example, we went into a flooring shop and spent a good 40 minutes with three staff, two calculators, five brochures and a whole pad of paper (not to mention the obligatory one-sided conversations in very loud, fast Italian)… just to work out the cost of one type of wood per square metre. Not a single price tag on anything. Humfph.

Onto nicer things, we had our third set of guests over last weekend – my bridesmaid Annie, 8 year old daughter Rebekah (Bex) and new man Phil. And what fun we had. We adored Phil and are so happy to see one of our closest friends find someone she deserves (at long bloody last Annie!). The weather was perfect for sightseeing, not that it made much difference as we seemed to spend nearly three solid days in various bars, cafes and restaurants! We had our first trip to the Cinque Terre – and it was every bit as beautifully breathtakingly dramatic as I imagined it would be. A boat trip in the sunshine took us from Porto Venere in the south to the penultimate of the five towns – Vernazza (see photo, left). Annie then very kindly treated us to a posh meal in a restaurant carved right into the cliff edge where we sat overlooking the Med and mused on life, the universe and everything while the world’s biggest seagull settled on the rocks by our table listening in. It was pure heaven.

After we said our goodbyes at Genova airport, P and I went to Portofino (daaarhling!) and sat in the harbour amongst the designer shops trying to celeb spot. The best we could muster was Rob Brydon (comedian and impressionist of Little Britain, Keith Barret et al). I am sure that I would be a huge disappointment to all my fashionista girlfriends, but was all a bit bling for us country folk so we left early.

Far more exciting to us, the four baby birds nesting on our window ledge have already grown and flown. Since the last wildlife report, we have now seen fireflies (always an amazing sight for two cityslickers), a jellyfish and a hedgehog, and fall asleep to a chorus of cicadas most evenings, which conveniently drown out the loud TV from our neighbours. I was also very, very tempted to catnap two adorable kittens from Michelle’s house (see below).

On Friday, while P and neighbour John talked about plumbing systems, wife Donna invited me to my first girlie night here… although not one Italian was present (my language skills need to pick up a lot first). As I miss my girls back home so much, it was lovely to get out and spend a few hours over pizza and limoncello in the delightful company of two Americans, two Kiwis and one Aussie. Fluent in Italian, as they are, with the exception of my neighbour, married to Italian chaps, Donna, Michelle, Melissa, Rita and Tina proved great company – warm, interesting, friendly and fun – and I hope that we meet up again many times.

Well folks, I had better sign off. As it is the Italian bank holiday this weekend (yes, pretty much everything is behind Blighty), there is a Sapori (Tasting) in our medieval town square, where local products – food, wine and crafts – are set out proudly for the good folk of Fivizzano to try. Yum. From what we can make out in the poster, there is also live music and inevitably a flag-throwing contest (our first one!). The sun is shining, the birds are singing and our tummies are rumbling. We can’t wait!

I will ask Roving Reporter and Toscana Gastronomio Pietro Stavelli to file his experiences later…

Ciao per ora

XX

Things not working, wildlife and people

Juliet writes: Week 7

Cara amici,

Please excuse the slight delay in posting the latest blog. As we feared - internet up a mountain is rather sporadic to say the least. We have just got back online after two days of inexplicable silence. And it was nothing to do with our neighbour this time.

Other things that have ceased to function (not including our livers and brains) are P’s strimmer. Two days of cutting grass which is now taller than him proved just too much for the little fella who now resides in the emergency ward of the strimmer hospital. Still not heard from Big Mo about cutting the rest of our ‘estate’ to a manageable level. Hopefully we will visit the house this weekend and find him wandering somewhere nearby, probably with our wheelbarrow wheel (in the meantime, P has rather ingeniously used a wheelie bin to put all the dead things on a bonfire)

In addition, my Ipod packed in so I had to go cold turkey from Puccini until it decided, inexplicably again, to work. (However, we have just booked a long weekend in Verona for P’s birthday/our 7th anniversary next month and to see Puccini’s Tosca performed at the ancient open-air Arena (think small version of the Coliseum at Rome), so one really mustn’t complain! And I will get to see ‘Juliet’s balcony’ too. We cannot wait – it’s been a shared dream of ours for years. And while we love this rural life, it will be nice to visit a city again. If our budgets can cope, we will also visit nearby Lake Garda. Sorry mum, George Clooney is at ‘the other one’ ie Como.)

Of course, many other things about Italy are also less than organised. For example, the trains, planes and buses all chose to strike on the same day last week. But it worked to our favour as my dear friend Natalie was at the Genova boat show and had to be transferred to Pisa in order to return home. This involved a four hour delay, during which we were able to pick up her and a colleague and take them out for lovely, long and liquid dinner in Pisa. A super impromptu evening.

Regarding wildlife, there is much here to amaze even the pickiest naturephile. We have managed to establish that our garden contains (please excuse any dodgy spelling) agapanthus, wisteria, calla lillies, irises, forsythia, roses, holm oak trees (Lecci - our house namesake), standard oaks, pines, fruit trees aplenty (so far apricot, plum, pear, peach, apple, fig, persimon) and of course the 25-ish olive trees and the 150 vines. I think I may just spend the rest of my life pruning and making jam! Can think of worse occupations though :o)

As to more lively nature, we have a pair of eagles, several bats, a family of owls, hundreds of little lizards and one scorpion (very small, so don’t panic!). Last night, I even shared my bath with the cutest, tiniest mouse. Weed, in her infinite wisdom and generosity, had brought it in for me and P then spent 10 minutes rescuing the terrified little thing from behind the toiletries cupboard while I, soaking wet, kept Weed from further feline activity. How restful.

Much to our delight, earlier this week at Lecci we discovered a tiny nest on the window ledge of one of the upstairs rooms. A day later, even more delighted, we discovered that four of the five eggs had hatched into the smallest baby birds (see photo, left, and tell me if it’s not utterly cute). Of course this now means that the builders will have to work around them quietly until they are fully fledged and flown away. Lucky builders :o) We spotted the mum – she is almost as tiny and has big eyes, a beautiful apricot breast and a blue/black tail. I trawled the internet to establish her identity but to no avail. So if there are any twitchers out there who can enlighten me…

And finally, the people. Of course no-one matches up to our friends back home but there are some lovely (and slightly strange) characters here. The owners of Lecci continue to amaze. Please see photo on left for just some of the stuff they have cleared out of the loft (90+ years of junk). It may take months! But they are so nice, we will probably let them get away with it. Next door in our rental place we have Debora and Antonio, slightly reminiscent of an Italian version of Wayne and Waynetta but very friendly. Debora came round at 7am this morning in her pyjamas to inform us that our upstairs toilet (not one we use) had decided to follow suit with our strimmer, internet, Ipod etc and cease to function normally with no explanation. From what we could translate, it had been flushing all night and kept her awake. Mortificato! She didn’t seem to mind too much, but I hope it doesn’t do it again. In addition to neighbourly concern, we have friends coming next weekend and I am sure they would be less than delighted!

Umberto looks like he stepped directly out of the film Under the Tuscan Sun. He is a very kindly man in his 80s and goes for a fast stroll twice a day past our rental place and up into the steep hills beyond. He always stops for a chat in Italian and is very patient with our lack of language skills. We call him ‘Vostra Meteorologo’ (Our Weatherman) as he is far more reliable than the Beeb or any weather station we know of.

Yesterday, we met our only English-speaking neighbours (we have delayed the meeting in fear of becoming stereotypical expats). They are John and Donna from California and they own the one beautiful liberty villa in Carregia. They were very hospitable and invited us in for a coffee and imparted their valuable knowledge about restoring large old piles in Tuscany (John has, almost single-handedly done the work himself). No doubt we will share a future limoncello or two when speaking constant Italian becomes a little exhausting. Oh, and their house is for sale if anyone is interested!

Then there is the lovely Guiseppe who works the land around our house in Fivizzano – he insists on calling us Signor Peeeter and Signora Guiletta. I think he may become a wonderful friend and a great source of garden expertise when our Italian is good enough.

Perhaps the most unusual character we have come across is Frank. He is a gregarious painter from Fivizzano and speaks a little English. We found him in a café at 10am, already the worse for wear, and singing in the corner. He is quite tragic really, as he is nice looking and obviously talented, but in his own world which we are occasionally invited into.

There are so many interesting personalities that I don’t have the time or space to include them all (and I doubt you have the patience to read anymore!)

So I will dash – and with good timing as P has just returned from an evening walk with an enormous piece of pampas grass in an attempt to prevent Weed from playing with less savoury toys…

Ciao per ora.

XXX

Settling in

Juls writes: Where have the last five weeks gone?! I appreciate that some have been used up in queues and some in an alcoholic haze, but as to the other week...

Well, P has definitely gone native. He bought a strimmer and has also managed to negotiate with the previous owners an antique chainsaw and a strange electric thing that we think might cut wood.

We have spent a lot of time at our house tackling the garden, as the grass is taller than me in places. P has taken great delight in using his new purchase... yesterday, after hacking back all the grass around the house with a slightly perturbing crazed look in his eye, he asked me what else he could strim. I now worry that he may amputate something when he moves onto the chainsaw.

Still, at least we have met Maurizio. Or 'Big Mo', as we now call him. This wonderful big gentle bear was born and brought up in Cerignano (our local borgo) and knows the land intimately. In fact, we were most impressed when he pointed out exactly where our boundaries, terraces, streams and pathways are, despite being currently completely obscured by grass and weeds. We were even more impressed when he lifted a wheelbarrow with his little finger and hoisted it down the lane to his car (in order to mend the punctured wheel). He is going to cut the rest of the grass for us (there is, alas, far too much for P and his strimmer alone), and take down the leylandii that block the spectacular view. No doubt while closing his eyes and using his other hand to knit a new jumper.

We met Big Mo through our new neighbours - Giovanni and Giovanna (we learn that the wife takes on the feminine version of her hubby upon marriage... does that make me Peterina? I hope not!) This gorgeous couple are in their late 30s - he an engineer, she an architect. Eight years ago they bought the 400 year old Carmine monastery around the corner from us, complete with murals, internal quad and many vaulted ceilings. It has taken them this long to restore just a small part of it (and it is utterly beautiful). They now hold weddings every Saturday in the summer... so we are invited to our first Italian wedding very soon. I can't wait - it's been a dream of mine to attend one for years! I have offered to do their brochure and marketing in English for free, as I fear that they may be far more useful to us than we are to them and it's the least I can do.

As to the rest of the week, we have met (which means hugged and shared the wine from our vines with (quite quaffable)) even more owners of Ca' dei Lecci, and their children, and grandchildren, and cousins. They are a good looking couple who seemed in their early 60s but were actually edging towards 80. Eternal youth seems quite typical here - wish you could bottle it.

The fabulous Fabrizio (our internet guru - see photo, left) made another star appearance this evening as everything online has been AWOL for five days. He came to our rental place straight from his family holiday to spend another two hours up a ladder - poor man! Turns out one of our new neighbours - who shall remain nameless, purely because we don't know who the culprit is - spotted our tiny dish on his aerial pole (which is attached to our house I must point out) and decided that the best course of action would be to unbolt it and lay it face down on the roof. Mad Italian! Anyway, all is now well and hopefully we can blog again 'til our hearts' content.

We also had an interested diversion last Friday when we set out to source some floor tiles on a national holiday and ended up getting caught in a solemn Virgin Mary parade. Don't ask!

We have enjoyed our first local fair, which seemed to be a hotchpotch of polyester clothes, cheap shoes (usually the one item in Italy that is more expensive than back home), strange sweets stalls and delicious regional foods. We walked away, slighty bewildered, carrying a pair of nice leather shoes for P, a hat and some gardening trousers for me and a jar of raspberry jam.

Tomorrow, we meet with Christian, our geometra, and a couple of builders at the house to discuss our renovation needs in detail. Well, in as much detail as our shamefully faultering Italian can muster.

There is so much more I could bore you with - daily life here holds many fascinations - but I really don't want to bore you so I will save it for the book and sign off.

We still miss you all terribly, but at least we feel closer as we are now able to Skype phone (and video those obedient souls who followed our request to register). So here's to a week of catching up with you, more gardening, more sunshine and less queues.

Please, please send us your news and start planning your flights to Toscana!

Lots of love and big kisses to you all.

J and P xxx
PS Hoorah for Boza as Mayor! (Sorry Sam :o) )

Una mese (One month)!

Peter writes: Four weeks in and things start to move ahead...

As we approach the end of our first month we are definitely adjusting to life Italian style. Perhaps the most notable feature of our first few weeks has been the weather, and not as one might expect! April 2008 in Tuscany was been the wettest/coldest for 50 years (a year ago it was already consistently 27C+), so somewhat bizarrely the one thing we have missed (friends aside of course) has been our fireplace!

Having said that, we did have our dear friend Sammy over for three nights last weekend and the weather was glorious. We introduced her to the new house, Italian castles of the area, the seaside at beautiful Lerici and many mad Italians. Together we met some of the owners of Ca' dei Lecci when we turned up at the house to find them lugging out strange ornaments etc! We had a wonderful afternoon with this delightful quartet (mother, father, daughter with boyfriend) and they introduced us to some of the neighbours, gave a crash course in viniculture and generally seemed happy that we were about to take over the house that their family have owned for over a hundred years!

Italian drivers still take some getting used to. The motorways (austostradas) are only two lanes and despite the fact that, much to J's horror, I drive pretty fast in the Jag, I still get overtaken by 80% of vehicles. Those at my mercy are either vast lorries, nonagenarians in 30 year old Fiats or numbers of conveyances with only three wheels. Average outside lane speed seems to be around 95mph, so quite a lot of diving in and out of lanes round the slow guys whilst trying not to annoy the Mercs 10ft off your bottom at 100mph! To be fair though, apart from holiday weekends the roads are really quite empty (though of course the motorways are not free).

We are meeting our Geometra next week (a sort of cross between and architect, surveyor and clerk of works which one needs to get all required permissions to make any alterations, even internal improvements) and will draw up a schedule of works against which to obtain quotes from a variety of contractors (builders, plumbers, electricians, plasterers etc.)

Our Italian is poor but improving and we now have a good vocabulary of words including tiles, central heating, plastering, quotes, discount etc, along with 'how much?!' 'you must be joking!' 'this seems broken' 'oh, just hit it with a big hammer' and so on...

First project though if (a) it ever dries out and (b) I can work out which of the 87 models of strimmer available on the market I need to buy, is to tackle the somewhat lush garden as the vineyard is slowly dissappearing out of view behind the elephant grass! Free board and lodging at the rental place for any visitors in the next few weeks who want a trip to Tuscany in exchange for 4 hours of strimming a day :o) Then again, I may have to shell out some euros to any passing Romanian to help just to get things under control!

Even though it has only been a few weeks, we are 'going native'. I have already abandoned tea in the mornings and now exist on real Italian coffee. Likewise, my Marmite consumption (from stocks I smuggled in under the spare wheel) is now so low it should last a year or so. Meanwhile, J is thorougly adoring eating strange looking vegetables and kissing everyone on both cheeks.

Overall, we are very happy, excited and at peace with our decision - a state of mind only enhanced when (a) the sun does come out and (b) when we think our language skills are improving.

I think this is about all for now as it is in danger of getting a bit dull! Keep reading, if you really are at all interested, and do post your comments. We will try to get a few piccies posted soon if we can work out how! Ciao tutti.

La tirzo settimana

Juliet writes: This week, POP servers, Puccini, piles of junk and poo…

Excited whoops of joy from Careggia… we are online! Our POP server is popping, we are able to bother you with emails once more and we even have spangly new Italian mobile phones with functioning SIM cards and E50 credit (enough for a 3-second sneeze to England). In conclusion, a small miracle. Typically, the phones look very pretty but have useless reception and are tricky to operate. So communication is (almost) back to normal…

There is, inevitably, a little story attached to Fabrizio, our wonderful internet man (mi dispiace Fabrizio - non posso fissare la fotografia perché il mio mac non è compatibile con il blog!)… to counteract his all-female household (wife, daughters, cats, dog), he spends his weekends snowboarding and jumping out of planes, and his weeks in search of similar adrenaline – up ladders, on roofs and hanging out of windows with satellite dishes. He is the best in the area for helping strange foreigners who need to write emails home requesting emergency marmite supplies. It took him nearly four hours today to hook us up and it only required one espresso, three plug sockets, E580 and 8 signatures. Amazing! He is a lovely, helpful and patient man with very good English and I have the feeling that we might just become firm friends.

What other news this week? Well, I achieved a life-long dream of mine by visiting Lucca, birthplace of my beloved Puccini. It was even more beautiful than I had imagined. Cobbled streets, higgledy-piggledy architecture, Roman amphitheatres, stunning palazzi, quirky shops, churches around every corner, the best ice-cream shop we have yet discovered and a vast and varied antique market littering the main streets and piazzas (which only occurs every third weekend of the month – perchance when we happened to be there). There is something very, very magical about Lucca – I can see why it was an inspiration to the greatest opera composer in history.

P and I can’t wait to take you all there, especially as 2008 is a year-long festival in celebration of the centenary of Il Maestro’s birth which involves various daily concerts and performances. (Watch this space for the book I hope to write about his life, love and works… after tending to husband, friends, vegetables and chickens)

Then there are the ongoing negotiations for the furniture in Ca’ dei Lecci, made more complicated (would we expect anything less?) by the fact that six people currently own the house so each has to be consulted about everything. Much of the content comprises pretty shocking ’70s tat, but there are a few beautiful pieces dotted about (oh yes, and yesterday saw two bottles of wine opened in celebration of The Return of the Doorbell), plus more practical things like beds – of which we only possess one, in storage, in England, until at least September. So, we are attempting to hone our haggling skills to masterful levels. However, being polite (and clueless) English folk, ultimately, we will pay too much and be left to clear the house of at least 30 skipfuls of junk (made trickier by the fact that they don’t have skips in Italy!). Anyway, it will be worth it in the end… honest. Oh, and does anyone want a kitten? A very cute tiny one? One of the stray cats living in the cantinas has given birth and I haven’t got the heart to ask the owners to take them away. (Peter is eternally patient with my animal-loving escapades – well, at least for now).

As to the subject of poo, there are two things to report (if your eyes are still open and your stomach hasn’t turned yet): Firstly our own neurotic feline has managed to have her first ‘toilet visit’ outside. This may seem like a small victory and a rather silly thing to write, but you have to understand that we have had no TV, internet or phone, so this has been our evening entertainment (along with star-gazing, car spotting, owl impressions and the highly amusing hunt-for-the-bat game) So, it’s a huge event for us, especially P who has patiently taken her outside every night and thrown her under a hedge in the hope of encouraging her to uncross her paws.

Second poo news, Il Professori’s bees were let loose today and there is now bee plop everywhere (P politely calls it ‘pollen droppings’ but I know better!). So I will be out later with my marigolds and determination, scrubbing the garden furniture, no doubt to the bewilderment of the neighbours. Oh joy.

Can you tell I am enjoying every minute of this adventure?!

My dear friend Sam arrives this weekend for a visit, coinciding with ‘Liberation Day’, actually a three-day festa (‘festival’ - one of billions of in Italy which are generally a great excuse to meet people, eat gorgeous food and wander the streets cradling glasses of vino rosso, possibly dressed up in medieval costumes or sporting a bow and arrow). So if I survive, I promise to report back next week.

In the meantime, Happy St George’s Day all :o)

Ciao per ora.

Grande baci,

J and P

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