Un anno, un mese: Timing, Tuscan plaster, Thumbs, Tasting, Tiles, Trimmings, Tree therapy, Ticks, Totally Tangoed

Juliet scribbles in haste:

Tanto lavoro. There really is. Just too much work. I should learn how to use my feet skilfully so I can paint or sand something with my toes while I type this.

After taking a week off (unannounced of course), Stepan, Vanya, Yuri and seemingly the entire national Ukranian workforce are now back with a vengeance and slogging away at Lecci. Maybe they have another job to go to, maybe they are fed up with looking at the view (or the owners), or maybe they now realise (after we have told them at least 100 times) that we really do have to move in on 1st June. Honestly, we are not particularly bothered about the reasoning behind the drive to finish it, just delighted that everything is moving apace.

We are now the proud owners of another two arches (one in the hallway and one on the landing), the smooth plaster is finished upstairs and nearly complete downstairs. At last, after a month of drawings, head-scratchings and master direction from a local English builder called Alan, we have the beginnings of a grand fireplace in the dining room. The interior stairs have been removed, making it tricky to carry heavy buckets of paint upstairs (especially after a liquid lunch). The new stone ones should be installed in the next week or so, as should the matching window ledges that have now arrived on site. P and I have set to work putting a coat of white paint on everything inside, to protect the plaster and give a better surface for the prettier colours. Poor hubby is in charge of the ceilings as I am too dwarf-like and so he has spent the last three days looking like a ghost. Many of the windows have been primed and the soon-to-be laundry room floor has been leveled ready for the boiler and other bits and pieces. We may even soon have a washing machine at Lecci – how posh is that?! We have told (ah but do we believe it?!) that our plumber and electrician return next week to continue with pipe laying and wiring. That really will be progress.

Outside, the naff old plasterwork has been chipped off, the stone cleaned and prepped and the new first layer of plaster applied (quite a task given the size of the house). I have spent a few happy hours in a local paint shop deciding which Tuscan yellows would work best. Got some cheap tester pots so will crack on with that anon. In fact I’ve got so many testers I could probably do the whole house in patchwork for a lot less money. Elsewhere, the patio area is half-leveled, awaiting Alan’s fractured wrist (another story) to heal before it is built. And – joy of joys – at last I have completed the pruning of the vineyard. I think even Hercules would have needed a holiday after that task. Meanwhile, P managed to carve a Dali-esque pattern in his thumb while attempting to cut some dead vine branches. Refuses to have stitches as I think he wants a big manly scar.

We had our first Lecci wine tasting last week with Leo and Elena. Very exciting! It still tastes young but the theory is that their cantina is too cold to mellow it further so we are going to put it all in demijohns and cart it off to our warmer cantina in the next week or so. 1,000 litres of Cerignano’s finest should fit in rather snugly between our kitchen units, all the window shutters and three pairs of wellies. How we are going to find the time, space or money to filter it, bottle it all up, stick on my labels and source enough cheap shelves to store them properly is anyone’s guess. Maybe intravenous drip is the best option.

Other recent challenges have included floor tiles. I had no idea that sourcing traditional, old-looking but not hideously expensive cotto tiles in the country that created cotto would be such a headache. We think we are finally getting there, but it involves two trips to Siena (what a tragedy!) Also, my dining room floor design is proving a bit tricky, as I don’t understand the strong Sicilian dialect and this is seemingly the only place that still does hand painting tiles in Liberty villa style that won’t cost the same as our actual house price. However, we do now have our lovely Carrara marble white and grey tiles for the hall and landing, the wood for the bedrooms (just need to stain 1,000 pieces - sigh) and the slate for the ensuite. So I think that’s pretty much all the flooring sorted, apart from the Siena and Sicilian jobs.

One of the most exciting things for me (I know, I need to get out more) is that we have managed to source some window mullions. Again, in a nation of skilled craftsmen with a history of beautiful, classical architecture you would think it easy. Ah, you mad fool for thinking that! We have been looking and enquiring for a year now and it has been a fruitless search. The making of ‘cornici’ has become a dying trade as Italians turn to more modern houses. So imagine my delight when Peter went out for some milk and came back with the name of a man who knew another man whose brother knew a workshop in Camaiore, near to Pietrasanta. After 4 phone calls, one house visit, much detective work and 35 trips along the same road, including going the wrong way up a one-way street, we found the workshop. It was shut up and overgrown. After chatting to a neighbour we realised that the old owner had sadly died last year. But all was not lost. Much of his equipment had been sold to a nearby workshop, so off we went, again the wrong way. Eventually we met Mauro, the lovely brother of the man who makes them, who informed us that they have just one salvaged mould. And what a beauty it is. It was taken from an old palazzo in Lucca so comes with history. And better still, it wont cost the earth to have 10 replicas made up. I can’t wait for those to arrive. Lecci will once again start to look like the grand old house it was.

Needless to say, because we want to get it right, every detail of our Italian restoration seems to be taking time and energy (I wont even mention the money!). Last week we realised we needed a break when we got strange looks in the supermarket for arguing loudly over which onions to buy, so we headed off to our local palazzo – Pescigola (see pics). This beautiful 400 year old villa is fast-becoming our sanctuary and inspiration when things get stressful. It is a perfect time of year to visit as the 100,000 daffodil bulbs were blooming and the peacocks, swans and other birdlife were wandering about. Peter got some therapy by hugging an enormous tree (see pic), while I managed to lower my stress-levels by studying the 16th century irrigation system in great detail. As we were about to leave, we bumped into the owner. Andrea is a delightful American lady from Boston (near where Peter’s brother and sis-in-law used to live). Her Italian husband Pasquale used to play at Pescigola when he was a child. It came up for sale about 5 years ago so he bought it (how nice!). They have sympathetically restored the magnificent gardens and courtyard and are now tackling the original kitchens. Makes Lecci look like a doll’s house and our troubles seem miniscule in comparison. We had a lovely chat with Andrea and it transpires that all three of their children have been/are currently attending Rugby school, P’s old haunt. Un piccolo mondo (small world) indeed. What with that, and a shared love of Puccini and all things arty, we may just end up firm friends.

In a quick wildlife report, I am pleased to report that our pair of eagles has returned now the sunshine is out. Our two bats continue to circle every night (they are very cute compared to the one that scraped my ear as I opened a door in an old ruined house we were nosying around the other day). Alan’s dog Ellie has become our new best friend, rivalled only by Iva’s three beautiful horses. I give them breakfast most mornings and I helped Iva to groom Lela ready for a show the other day. While I was having a girlie moment and plaiting her mane, he said I was welcome to ride her anytime. What a dream for me, if only I can remember how to get in the saddle! And finally, our delightful duo continue to fight with each other like cat and, well cat. We spend most evenings keeping them apart and throwing the little one into the ‘naughty room’ (guest bed) whenever she leaps on Weed or eats a whole roll of toilet paper. They manage to get a tick or two most weeks now, so I have become adept at tweezering the little buggers out. And how generous of my cats that they even gave one to me. Last week, in mortification, I found one in my leg, but luckily it was only small so a quick squeal and my fingernails saw the end to that little critter. It’s my only un-Buddhist moment when I dance around in my wellies squashing them to oblivion.

Talking of dancing, I end this blob with a little note about our first Italian lesson. No, sadly not verb declensions nor mastering Conversation Skills Level 3. But a belated birthday promise from a hubby 4 years ago… Argentinian tango lessons. Up a mountain in the middle of the back of beyond, there is a dance hall that could rival the set of Strictly Come Dancing. Why they built it, I have no idea, I’m just glad they did. So last Thursday, we met Andrea (not our plumber, thankfully!) and his partner Veronica, who whirled gracefully around to the seductive strains of violin for 10 minutes before instructing three very advanced couples on leg flicks and lift techniques, then turning his help to a clueless English couple. He is a very patient teacher, thank goodness, and we thoroughly enjoyed our induction into the Latin dance of passion. Peter did a great job in leading and only stepped on my bare feet once. Meanwhile, I had to do everything backwards and on tiptoe. Talking of which, it is our second lesson tonight, so I had better go and polish those killer heels.

Trina and Andrew – we can't wait to see you at Pisa tomorrow!

Ciao per ora, carissimi amici XXX

ONE YEAR (and a bit)!

Juliet writes:

Cara amici,

Is Stephan Hawking living next door and experimenting with time travel and worm holes? Can you believe it’s been a whole year? 12 months have passed since we crammed the cat and all our belongings into the Shaguar and drove to our dream home. How much has changed – just in that last sentence – we now have two cats, no Jag, have lost half our belongings and our dream home has become an inhabitable dustpit! Ah, progress.

Being the Staveleys, nothing seems to run very smoothly, including cars. Since my last blob, Lulu (remember Lulu? The old LH-drive car we bought from our friend in the UK), died outside the ferry terminal in Dover. In the rain. Complete with all the plumbing equipment, two doors, 6 tins of paint, an entire bathroom floor and a very unhappy husband. Can’t say I blame the ol’ gal – I think we knew deep down that it was just one toilet too many. Anyway, some hasty quotes from removals companies coupled with the cost of a flight proved just too expensive. As luck would have it, Lulu had conked out next to a van hire company. So my poor damp husband transferred everything that he had so carefully placed in the 20 year old VW Golf that very morning. I am sad to say that Lulu went to scrapheap heaven. At least we got £30 for her, so that’s about 5 minutes’ worth of workman at Lecci.

And as more luck would have it, while P was waiting for a later ferry, I did an internet search for reclamation yards in the Dover area and sent a very obliging husband off for a closer look at my bargain web treasures. With more room in the van, he was able to do a deal on some antique lighting, 2 cast iron door mats, a pagoda (I know, it’s not essential but very beautiful!) and a marble fireplace, ironically from Carrara, 20 minutes away from where we live in Italia but at a quarter of the price. Hopefully these savings almost counteract the cost of the van.

It was lovely to see P again, back home safe and sound, after a whole week apart. We spent the evening flopping, hugging, eating and snoozing before unloading the van the following morning. It was like Christmas – all these things I had sourced, ordered, chased up etc were finally in Italy… balanced rather precariously on the dining room table to avoid Destruction By Kitten.

Of course, we then had a mad scramble to try to find a replacement car in Italy in time for our guests’ arrival, as the van only held 2 adults and a dwarf. In the end we fell for a little blue 5-year-old Peugot 106 from a local dealer in immaculate condition. She comes with air-con (essential for the hot Tuscan summers), incredibly low mileage, a CD player and minimal scratches… a minor miracle knowing Italian drivers. Because she is small and her first proper trip was to the birthplace of Puccini (Lucca), I have christened her Mimi. She will eventually be my little run-about when P can afford something altogether bigger, shinier and with more buttons.

We picked her up the morning that Lorna (aka Nursey) and Mark flew in. And what a fun three days we had together! The prosecco flowed as we celebrated everything from our first Italian anniversary and their 30th year together, to the house, the sun, the aubergines and each other. Can you tell we had rather a lot to drink?! We spent a delightful day in Lucca (my favourite place) – with P and M hiring bikes and cycling the city walls while Nursey and I had a stroll and got distracted by a weird art exhibition and some very expensive shops (windows only!) We also bumped into Mario – one of the old owners of Lecci (the one that looks like a hobbit) – what are the chances of that?! In slightly better Italian than the last time he saw us, we happily informed him that there was still much work to do but that we loved the house and he and his family must come round for a meal when it is done. He seemed delighted. Or maybe it was just trapped wind? As to the rest of our mini-holiday, we were all quite pooped so we just pottered about locally, ate ice-cream and listened to lots of music (Mark being a guru of all things audible). Despite the fact that we have so much to do on Lecci, it was heaven to take time off from it all and rest our achy, scratched, bruised bodies. I haven’t slept so well for months, although my waistline has expanded again.

As I write this, P is back in England just for tonight as he returns the van and catches a flight back. Mimi and I will pick him up from Pisa tomorrow and before the poor man has a chance to recuperate, we need to whisk him off to a fireplace surround shop and the marble flooring factory.

As for Villa dei Lecci, the installation of the corner fireplace is proving more difficult than cracking the Enigma machine. The plasterboard is on the ceilings and smooth walls now abound in the lounge and library. My beautiful Persian window (well, the hole for it) has been built on the landing, the old lounge and kitchen windows have magically become doorways and the arches for the hallway ceiling and lounge niche are underway. The scaffolding is up and the two sides/back of the house have had all their old crumbly plaster removed. Jim is cracking on with levelling the patio area and I’ve done another row of vines (I feel as if we’ve got hundreds but there are only 10!) and been pottering about the veg patch.

As for the plumber, I’m sure he knew we have been here for a year, because he started today. Pipes have been laid, folks! We spent a good hour trying to work out how to fit the waste pipe around the imaginary clawfoot bath and a further hour discussing the fireplace and what else is to be done this week. This is all quite a challenge first thing in the morning in Italian (four of them, chatting away as if I understood every word), so I had to call the gorgeous Sue at one point and beg for her language skills as I really didn’t know what U-bend was in Italian.

Talking of which, I will end this blob with a nice little story about the positive side of being linguistically clueless. Believe it or not, the Italians are sticklers for timing etiquette. You never have a cappuccino after 11am, you never, ever interrupt a man during his siesta and – above all – you never say ‘Buon giorno’ after midday (it then becomes ‘Buona sera’, followed by ‘Buona notte/serata’ after 6pm) A few weeks ago, P and I spent a jovial evening with our friends Jenny and Alan near Bagnone. Jenny is a professional cook so it is always quite an occasion with a variety of delicious dishes and wine flowing in quantities that would rival a Greek wedding. We finally departed at 11:30pm and, as P always insists he is sober enough to drive, he leapt into the driver’s seat with aplomb. Halfway home, we were waved over by the military police (they do that a lot here, mainly as a way of making money from people who do not have road tax, insurance or sanity). I was panicking – what if my darling husband had to spend the night in a prison cell for being drunk and not very orderly? Anyway, bless him, without thinking, Peter – doing his very best Trevor Howard impression – said ‘Buon giorno officer’. Obvious to the caribinieri that we were pazzo stranieri (mad foreigners) he resignedly pointed to our headlights (which were on full beam in a town), waved his hand down, shrugged his shoulders in a way that only Italians can, and let us go. After months of trying to convince my hubby to study his verb declensions, maybe I should hide the language tapes from him afterall…

Buona sera tutti XXXX