The Montefiore Workshop ‘Falling in love with ourselves’

Everything has a beginning, a middle and an end, except of course if you are a butterfly or a salamander.

I must tell you from the outset that the middle bit, the workshop itself, was fantastic…and I’ll come back to that later, just to keep you in suspense.

The beginning

A disaster on wheels

This was the plan. To pick up the English girls (or should I say our UK workshop lady participants) from Falconara Airport. Now, I must tell you that just writing those two words sends waves of hatred through my entire nervous system because whenever I approach it, it is waiting for me with a pre-planned disaster in store.

And this day was no exception. OK, I was late; the whole day so far had stacked up against me. But the plane was late too and I had to get the girls to Falconara station within twenty mins or never…ever. So I packed their luggage into my van, stacked them in a taxi with instructions to the driver to go go to the station with me racing behind. Except that I wasn’t… Any way, this is dragging on. So to cut it short, this is what happened. I lost my parking ticket and couldn’t get out of hated airport. Lost the girls, they weren’t where I thought I’d sent them (they were fiddled by taxi driver and taken to Ancona station) Found them there.

Had five mins to get them tickets so Mags parked my car (what? at Ancona station? That’s madness!) Got to ticket booth, didn't have enough cash but ticket man said go go. pay me later (phew! an angel)…Rushed to see girls on right train (they were all as cool as cucumbers), zoomed on to Autostrada to get to meet them at Pedaso station, only to find myself at pay booth at Pedaso at a new automated exit. Cash only! Robot tells me I’m short of 25 cents. I say look robot, I’ve had a rough morning. He booms out’ Don’t leave the car, Don’t leave the car’ in a high metallic voice. Oh, now why would I leave the car for heavens sake? Voice says put in credit card. I do but robot refuses it. I bash help button and a human comes on speaker; tells me to put cash in box, I say I have but I’m 25 c short. Meanwhile 20 cars hooting up behind me as the robot spews out a fine to be paid he booms within 15 days. I zoom off.

Now wasn’t that great?

Now for the end bit

No no, this is expecting too much of your patience. Enough to say that my 0830 am departure from Montefiore ended up being midday and it involved TrenItalia timetables and a lady in the bar opposite the station who only had 2 tickets left for 5 people. (and of course you get fined 50 euros if you’re on board without a ticket) Don’t ask, don’t ask!

BUT…The middle bit: the workshop (which it was worth suffering either end for)

Loved it, every bit of it. The place, the hospitality, the food, the sea, the dancing, the laughter and most importantly, the passion and heart that folks put in to the workshop program. Maria and I were each of us profoundly touched by being and working together and the experience still resonates.

Here are some photographs

I think this was a triple Tango

 

 

Lunch time

 

 

Dinner time

 

 

A poetic moment

 

 

I Cigni, Montefiore

Next workshop Oct 14 weekend at Montefiore

The Montefiore Workshop ‘Falling in love with ourselves’

Everything has a beginning, a middle and an end, except of course if you are a butterfly or a salamander.

I must tell you from the outset that the middle bit, the workshop itself, was fantastic…and I’ll come back to that later, just to keep you in suspense.

The beginning

A disaster on wheels

This was the plan. To pick up the English girls (or should I say our UK workshop lady participants) from Falconara Airport. Now, I must tell you that just writing those two words sends waves of hatred through my entire nervous system because whenever I approach it, it is waiting for me with a pre-planned disaster in store.

And this day was no exception. OK, I was late; the whole day so far had stacked up against me. But the plane was late too and I had to get the girls to Falconara station within twenty mins or never…ever. So I packed their luggage into my van, stacked them in a taxi with instructions to the driver to go go to the station with me racing behind. Except that I wasn’t… Any way, this is dragging on. So to cut it short, this is what happened. I lost my parking ticket and couldn’t get out of hated airport. Lost the girls, they weren’t where I thought I’d sent them (they were fiddled by taxi driver and taken to Ancona station) Found them there.

Had five mins to get them tickets so Mags parked my car (what? at Ancona station? That’s madness!) Got to ticket booth, didn't have enough cash but ticket man said go go. pay me later (phew! an angel)…Rushed to see girls on right train (they were all as cool as cucumbers), zoomed on to Autostrada to get to meet them at Pedaso station, only to find myself at pay booth at Pedaso at a new automated exit. Cash only! Robot tells me I’m short of 25 cents. I say look robot, I’ve had a rough morning. He booms out’ Don’t leave the car, Don’t leave the car’ in a high metallic voice. Oh, now why would I leave the car for heavens sake? Voice says put in credit card. I do but robot refuses it. I bash help button and a human comes on speaker; tells me to put cash in box, I say I have but I’m 25 c short. Meanwhile 20 cars hooting up behind me as the robot spews out a fine to be paid he booms within 15 days. I zoom off.

Now wasn’t that great?

Now for the end bit

No no, this is expecting too much of your patience. Enough to say that my 0830 am departure from Montefiore ended up being midday and it involved TrenItalia timetables and a lady in the bar opposite the station who only had 2 tickets left for 5 people. (and of course you get fined 50 euros if you’re on board without a ticket) Don’t ask, don’t ask!

BUT…The middle bit: the workshop (which it was worth suffering either end for)

Loved it, every bit of it. The place, the hospitality, the food, the sea, the dancing, the laughter and most importantly, the passion and heart that folks put in to the workshop programme. We were each of us profoundly touched by being and working together and the experience still resonates.

Here are some photographs

I think this was a triple Tango

 

 

Lunch time

 

 

Dinner time

 

 

A poetic moment

 

 

I Cigni, Montefiore

Next workshop Oct 14 weekend at Montefiore

Marche in Maggio

Read this morning on BBC site that according to medical experts, a walk in the countryside, in the fresh air, is good for us psychologically; makes us feel happy and healthy
So now we know. fresh air and countryside walks are good for you? get this..

'Just five minutes of exercise in a "green space" such as a park can boost mental health, researchers claim.

There is growing evidence that combining activities such as walking or cycling with nature boosts well-being.

In the latest analysis, UK researchers looked at evidence from 1,250 people in 10 studies and found fast improvements in mood and self-esteem.

The study in the Environmental Science and Technology journal suggested the strongest impact was on young people.

The research looked at many different outdoor activities including walking, gardening, cycling, fishing, boating, horse-riding and farming in locations such as a park, garden or nature trail'

What? Do we really have to be told that? Tragic state we’re in if that’s the case.

This is a photo from yesterday, our CAI trek up to Garula.

I love it! Being part of this great group has opened my eyes to things I would never see alone.

We were 15 in number, including three kids. The entire trek took four hours because we stop every ten mins or so to be educated by our guides.

And what’s this?

Looks like a hole in the ground eh? Yes, t’is!

But according to our Archeological guide it was a communication point. A thousand year old Facebook, one of thousands spread across Le Marche which allowed messages to be sent ; bit like NA Indian smoke signals. Kids weren’t too impressed on this one.

Le Marche, mountains and sea, that’s what it is

Creativity workshop in Appignano

Though I’d thought of everything; catering, leaders, materials, wine, biscuits. But a volcano! a volcano! Would you ever have imagined it?

It meant we lost five wondrous people from UK whose flight was cancelled at the last moment. It made for a sad start but we held a wine and biscuit ritual to mourn their absence and we soon recovered. A near thing though. So there we were, a bunch of 13 of us.

The general theme was ‘This moment of NOW’ where we learned that being present in the NOW is a gateway to creativity and life adventuring; where creativity awaits us and where the voyage towards its very heart begins

The above image is from the story writing part of the weekend, although you would never guess it would you? 

And this part is called ’Painting attack’

So this was a voyage into the NOW, the present.

And now you are itching to know what our next workshop is about, aren’t you? Well, it’s a journey into past, present and future; how the one fuses with the other to form what we are, how we pattern our lives.

Maria collects treasures from the past; Italian customs, culture, cuisine and saves them in her Magic Box to share with you. Mice takes you into the NOW of creativity on a wondrous voyage of self discovery and Ant into the Future where you design a Planet worth living in for yourself and your love ones.

It’s June 11 to 14 in the beautiful agritourism of I Cigni in Le Marche, Italy, on the edge of the sparkling Adriatic Sea.

Info on our site www.starstone.me or call Mice on +39 3535358 if you want to chat about the workshop in English or Italian. Or you can email him on micermice@gmail.com

The Meteorite

OK, what’s this?

A truffle!

No!

Look, you’re not gonna guess, so I’ll tell you. It’s a meteorite, found on the mountain this Sunday when we trekked up Mt Amandola with our CAI group (Club Alpini Italia) and were rewarded with a the most spectacular views across the hilltop towns of Le Marche to the sea, as well as a meteorite. Isn’t that marvellous though? To find a meteorite? We climbed to about 2000m,

 

 

 

 

……….ate a banana and a packet of crisps (classic) and rested awhile on one of the peaks before climbing down slowly to the trattoria where we’d left our cars. Then a long and dozy lunch. And the day before I was at the sea spending the morning costing our June workshop with Patrizia the owner of I Cigni, . It was almost tropical in comparison.

 

 

This part of Le Marche is where the mountains pushed towards the sea millions of years ago. In fact a great part of the sea was itself thrust up trapping a species of red shrimp in what is now a glacial lake (Lago di Pilato) in the process. Red shrimps and meteorites.

So, lucky we are, to have the mountains and the sea within a short driving distance of each other.

So, here’s an idea. Spend a fantastic weekend on our workshop and spend the rest of the week touring this beautiful area; even go meteorite hunting up in the Sibillini mountains. You’ll find one, you will, with a bit of guidance.

Room On The Edge

Room On The Edge

Invisible Mice

I know what you're thinking; that it's me , invisibilised!
Naar, it's not.
It's my jeans that I put out on the line to dry and they froze! Laugh you may, but they almost snapped in half when I tied to fold them over a chair.
Life does have its little adventures doesn't it?
Cabin fever? Could be with half a metre of snow forecast, wife away and chips running out fast. Got some beer in though

Alba

6.30 am 3rd of March 2010.
A delicious sunrise

Christmas pudding

Just blown up the microwave with a Christmas Pudding!
My fault entirely which I share with the microwave and the Christmas Pudding.In my defence though, what do I know about Christmas Pudding?; haven't eaten one for years (they're banned in house) and what do I know about microwaves?..we have one but never use it. OK, you guessed, Lili's away in Bari and it as my usual egg and chips wkd and there was this Christmas Pudding on the shelf given by an English friend and somehow overlooked (otherwise ir would have beem binned). So, I'd peeled off the cooking instructions, in pieces and mistread the instructions; thought it said 50 mins.
Was on SKYPE with mate Jack from SF and there was this smell, and then smoke and then billowing smoke.
I'd often wondered what the meltdown at Chernobyl actually looked like. Now I know.
When I woke up to what was happening I rushed to the kitchen I found the inside of the microwave was a molten white crucible of fire. Switched power off of course and then rushed to open all windows and doors to clear acrid smoke.
And retreated.
An hour later I ventured back in and oh my Gawd what a mess.
The microwave? Just burning bits.
The Christmas Pudding? not a trace.
I think the ex-microwave might still be radioactive.
I re-read instructions. It was 50 secs!
The wife's gonna kill me

The Solstice

Just six days and the light returns.
This is the time of Year when my energy flows slowly and I have to push myself and don't feel pulled by life. Doesn't help that it's snowing like crazy outside and far too cold so suddenly. Our woodstove is eating up our winter's supply and it's a battle to keep the house suitably warm.
But there are good things too.
The sun being at its furthest south, we are getting sunsets lighting up the sky at Mt Vettore.
























Then there is the fact that we have joined C.A.I. (Club Alpini Italian) which makes me laugh no end, firstly because most of the other members here are amazingly fit and sportive and secondly because their membership card and badge are left-overs from the Fascist era (Mice's guess!)























and then, and then,...on a 20K walk on Sunday (don't ask) we walked past this house on the way to Monte San Martino.
And look what it says splashed right across the front of the building 'Duce a noi' which more or less 'We're with you all the way, Duce' (you need to screw your eyes up to see it mind)



















It's all bubbling still, under the surface here in Italy. Communism, Fascism; like old ghosts lost in time forever, And all this couples in my mind with the attack on Berlusconi on the weekend where he was coshed with a model of the Milan Duomo. It's the circus of Italian politics which have never matured out of the ruins of the second World War.

six women

This weekend in the house six women.
Now I know why man became carnivore

It was Mexico

Well, it seemed like it at the time.
I was walking up Bernie's garden to take a look at the sea and I heard shouting and laughter; looked up and saw UFO's whizzing across the sky. Then I walked into a bunch of Mexican cotton pickers, but they weren't.
Does that ever happen to you though? You suddenly think you're in another country?
Anyway, a voice shouted 'Michael!' and I was brought back to the here and now.
Guess who it was?
You're dead right, it was Mari, Jo, Vittorio, Quinto, Pepino and Lorenzo. Not pickin' cotton but sweetcorn (UFO shaped)It's 25C in the sunshine and they're complaining of the heat...

Here they are, look, it's them it is.















Next day temperature drops by 20C and we are plunged into winter and the Sibillinis have their first dash of snow. John pops in, carves a huge hole in our laundry room wall and walks off shaking his head. It's like that when the seasons suddenly change.
No wonder the British went mad in India (A thought that briefly sails though my mind)


a mountain view from the garden, the first snows

Our summer of trekking

I know what you're thinking! You think I'm going to write about my fantastic tomato crop, or our splendid figs or the to die for potatoes.
But I'm not.... and who would die for a potato anyway? (don't answer that one, please!)

Instead this little story is about last weekend's trek/mountain climb up to the source of the river Ambro which is a hike and a half above the Sanctuary of La Madonna dal Ambro (who is really the Sybil as well we all know)
Our trusted guide and leader, Giorgio Tassi, had persuaded us that this one was a doddle; tough first ten minutes, then flat all the way. We know him well enough to translate this as (a confidence booster which really means) 'life threatening experience, stay in bed, it's safer'


















The river had to crossed at least a dozen times; our Mexican friend, Sofia took the first dive and one by one we succumbed, each of us wet from the knees down, but it was OK.

























The scariest part was climbing up (and then down) a sheer precipice, our only way of circumventing a blocked part of the river bed.
























Here you got to wonder at the way water had eroded the gorge over millions of years and here it took some time to get the twenty of us to the top of the rope where our wondrous leaders were perched (we had four guides)
When we reached the 'Throne' itself, after more or less another hour of climbing, I know we were all in complete awe of this majestic place. My God! We've lived here for seven years and didn't have an inkling of such splendour.
























So we celebrated this feeling (a sort of benevolent dreamy state) by eating a gorgeous lunch consisting of bacon and tomato rolls, Sheep cheese and a bottle of coke. Then chocolate to double up on the caffeine intake.


The journey back down was easier, except for having to re-negotiate the precipice and by this stage most of the group had given up on trying to navigate the stepping stones to cross the river, and just waded in. I think. for me at least, one of the most beautiful parts of the trek was walking besides the sound of rushing water through the sunny glades which stretched the length of the river. It's a lovely experience because eventually the mind empties itself of everything except to sounds and sights around.


















So we've got the bug and we are going to join the trekking group. And this coming weekend? a trek up the Fiastrone. What a wonder that will be.

Finally a photo of some of the group taken in front of the Sanctuary

Yesterday

Now I'm not a great lover of shopping. In fact I lose a year of my life when I'm trapped into the horrors of it. Yesterday was a prime example (or so I thought at the outset). The objective was simply to buy a pair of trekking shoes for my kindred soul. You know the story.... 5 hours later with bags full of bargains (but you have to buy this because it's half price and will last you forever!), we by chance, looking for the beach at Porto Sant Elpidio, drive into yet another Shopping Mall. By this time I've lost two and a half years and seven days--- but this Commercial Centre is new and I swear it's the first one ever that has been designed with the mind of man in mind (oh, I like that!).
It's got whole areas for tools and tents and camping beds. And what'smore shops for hikers with 50% reductions. Computer and telephone sections with huge screen TVs and and thoroughly modern Sainsbury type Trustbuy scheme where you just use your credit card as you you zoom through and avoid checkout. On top of this there's a pub in the corner with a vast selection of beers and pizzas and there, as you walk out, is a multi screen (12) new Cinema.
I'm not making it up, honest.

La Sibilla

Last Saturday I joined a brave set of souls on a hike up to the cave of La Sibilla, who, as you know, is the local goddess, and ex-prophetess to the Roman Emperors. It was great and something I've always been meaning to do. The day was organised by Giorgio Tassi, a local photographer and nearly new Mayor of Amandola (he missed out by just a handful of votes)...
















Jo is an experienced mountaineer and a great direction giver for those in need of advice.
























It was a day of swiftly changing weather conditions, hot sun, then sudden drifting fog with chilled us but which had its own beauty as sheep, climbers, mountain shepherd dogs drifted in and out of focus.





We reached the Sibilla cave after two hours and ate our sandwiches and drank our energy drinks. I missed Bessie and sort of wished I'd brought her along but she would have casued mayhem; bashed up Holly, attacked the sheep dogs and pestered me for a slice of sausage. Then guess what? We were given a lecture on the history of the Sibilla by a historian, the upshot of which was that it was generally agreed that the Sibilla was still present as witnessed by many a sober soul during nights spent alone up there. This spot is, according to those who know this stuff, a portal to the Cosmos.
Told Lili about this and she wants to go up there too (she was in Naples that weekend). Not sure whether she means to Cosmos or Mount Sibilla...I'll ask before I make any plans

I've had better days.
I've had worse also.
I want firstly to say sorry to this snake

















I'm sorry snake, I didn't want to kill you, please forgive me!

It happened like this..
It's been unusually hot this last week, temps hitting 34C, and if you know anything about snakes, you know they love it hot. Baby snakes hatch in these conditions: baby vipers are born live, up to a hundred at a time.
leela has already marched into the garden with a snake in her mouth and this morning it was the turn of Socksie who (as a present to Lili) dragged in the chap above into the house and placed it, still alive, under our bed.
It was a metre long.
Shrieks in the house!
I managed to clunk a glass cake cover over it and slide a piece of cardboard under its body (all this under the gaze of the feline sharks); to then slip it into a large glass jar which I sealed with a fitting glass top.
You're so brave!
Yes I know, but to continue...
I take the jar down to our neighbours thinking that they might at least tell me if it was a viper or not and they say yes kill it. I get this feeling that they call every snake a viper and kill it whether it is or not so I walk back home with snake in the jar looking at me with quite a sweet expression on its face and back home leave it on the garden table with the plan of taking it to a chap we know in town who really does know a snake from a cake.
Then...shrieks, even louder than before.
'It's escaping' Lili cries.
I rush downstairs and find she has taken the lid off to give it some fresh air!!
By then it is zooming in every direction and decides to bury itself in the dead leaves under the wisteria bush.
We are already getting late for appointments and the domestic sharks are waiting to go in for the kill. And I can't risk that it might indeed be a viper and the death of one our pets.
So I had to kill you poor creature.
I'm sorry and Lili is sorry too
Particularly because when we took you poor remains in to show snake expert he tells us that you were just an harmless grass snake.
We have decided to take a course on snake recognition

Fireflies

They're back!
How do they know it's the 4th of June? They're amazing, that's what they are. It was the first time Tikka had experienced them. and what with them and a couple of Dinos (Bambi-like deer) at the bottom of the garden making their cooing noises, she was astounded, in awe, hopping around from shrub to shrub. And all this after two days of torrential rain. Just look!
























Twenty centimetres of rain! Mudslides everywhere!

Update

OK, I know, you're right....I'm lazy!
I could, and I should, write a blog everyday and....well, what I usually do is wait until something completely absurd strikes me, (usually about the trials and tribulations of living in Italy), and then I pounce! (for all that the world cares)
But recently there's been so much, so much, that my critical mind has been swamped and overwhelmed.

Oh! You're wondering what the photo is all about? No connection really but..
It's me eight years old. I was so sweet! My sister was down in Le Marche and she brought me a DVD of old family photos. I remember this one quite clearly. It was taken in Kent, in the hop fields. My mum and dad were Battersea Cockneys and hop-picking was what you did if you were poor by way of a holiday. So where was I last weekend? In Kent, in the same area where this photo was taken. Oh, this time with friends Tony and Sheila in a posh pub with a refined menu and a polite Polish waiter and a rude English waiter too. I remember also a family of foxes playing in the garden of the cottage where we stayed and the owner bawling me our for hobbling around in his wellington boots. But I was a happy little chap and told this story to a group in London that same weekend; I'd gone on a workshop weekend and we were asked to remember a happy time in our lives.

So, here I go again with a simple tale of yesterday. And you can take this as a metaphor for all the thousand and one tales I'd like to relate to you but haven't the time. (for example the one about the traffic cop with dark shades).. or last weekends riotous Pizza party at Bernie's...Wow!!












Now you're going to wonder what all this has got to do with the following tale of yesterday. Not quite sure myself but I think it's as J.P.Sartre said, hell is other people. Of course he was referring to the French so he was spot on there but sometimes, sometimes, Italians are a pretty close match.
So back to yesterday, we reach the end of our little road and there, wonder of wonders is a team of workmen laying tarmac. First of all, let me explain that a year back all of us in our little community of Sant'Ippolito signed a petition appealing to the Mayor for a tarmac road because our sand road is a perpetual disaster. And yesterday there they were! Sealing the road. And as we gleefully drove on to the fresh tar, the workmen started to yell at us and the boss came hurtling over to the car shouting 'Get off, get off!!'


The conversation

I said what do you mean get off? where to?
He says 'Didn't you see the sign?'
What sign? where? I ask.
The one at the other end of the road, he says.
The end of which road?
The one two K along this road
Why did you put it there, nobody uses that road? All of us (some 50 people) use this one. So how would we know?
Well the sign is there he says and you should have seen it and now you're ruining this fresh tar.
You're not listening to me and why are you doing this part of the road? It's been fine, it's the rest that needs attention.
He shrugs his shoulders..
We've only been told to do this bit.
But it's a waste of time and money.
What do you expect, this is Italy?!

Now if there is one phrase which guarantees a complete meltdown in my brain it's this one.
But Lili touches my arm and says 'Go!'
So I take a deep breath and drive off.
I spend the next half hour repeating 'This is Italy, this is Italy, this is Italy!'
Calm down, she says, let's go for a swim in the lake. So we do, and it's gorgeous. Deep clear blue water and not a breath of wind.
This is Italy too, she says.




















Like our new road?
It ends 100 metres along from here. just look.




















Oh, and guess what? The local elections are next week.
Got the connection? As voters drive past they will think 'Hey, that Mayor is good, he's fixed that road at last'

Benjamin Button

Last evening we went to see the film Benjamin Button at the Multicomplex Cinema in Piedripa. If you've seen the film, you'll know the narrative was set during the hurricane Katrina. What we took as sound effects however, was in fact a thunder storm which was passing overhead. When we got out of the cinema the whole parking lot was flooded and as we drove home and got nearer our mountains, the rain was snow and at home we were under another foot of the stuff.
Just look!




But I've given up on snow...too tiring. We're exhausted after so much of it; best that it stays on the mountain.

The Railway Man

This is a book written by Eric Lomax about his experience in Japanese prisoner of war camp in Burmah and then in Singapore. Happened to pick up the book in a new s/h bookshop here in Sarnano opened by a friend who is selling up having been broken by the Italian system. This... and yesterday....yesterday.
One of the principle points of the book is how Lomax describes closing down; cutting off his feelings and emotions because this was the only way he could protect his fellow inmates when under interrogation. So he learned how to stay mute and govern his natural reactions...and he did so successfully for three years, suffering finally of course when he tried to settle back into normal life and couldn't undo the damage.
Not that I'm suggesting that a visit to a Comune tecnico's office is in any way similar to the experience of being tortured in Japanese prisoner of war camp, this would be insulting to all those brave abandoned men, but here is one similarity; a desire to kill. Lomax even after 50 years had nightmares about his torture and harboured a desire for revenge. You're losing the thread of this one aren't you?
Two events in one day might link a thread or two. Ok, of course I'm exaggerating, as is my wont, but the knowledge that you are powerless in the face of ignorance can do internal damage whereas a swift punch on the nose would feel so good.

The events
Our last winter's gas bill did away with any hope of a holiday and we have switched to our wood burner for most of the winter. But I've been trying to call our gas supplier for ages but no one ever answers the phone. I wanted to know the current price of GPL. This is derived from oil so my guess was that the price must have come down somewhat in line with oil, maybe not 75% but perhaps half?
I get through eventually to on of the managers of Liquigas

The conversation

Hi, just wanted an update on the current price of gas,

I can't tell you right now because I'm not in the office, can you call me tomorrow at 8.30 am?

But it's only the cost of gas I'm asking, surely you know that?

Not off hand, call me in the morning

Next morning

Boungiorno, It's me again..about the price of gas.

Oh yes, give me your a/c number and I'll tell you

What's my a/c number got to do with it, I just want the price of gas.

Ah, yes, here you are, the current price is E4.04 a litre

But that's the same as a year ago!

Well, you'll see when your February bill arrives that there will be a reduction.

How much?

Eight cents

But the price of oil has come down by almost 75% in the last year.

Has it?

What do you mean 'has it?' Everybody knows that.. and your product is derived from oil and it's the same price as a year ago.

Well sir, would do you suggest? What price do you think our gas should be?

At this stage, I give up , he is taking the piss, and post it all into my anger box along with my experience in a comune later that day (which you wouldn't believe unless you'd been brought up on a diet of Kafka novels). Internalised anger= damage.

So I concentrate on a fresh wave of snow and Bessie who simply adores it, and hasn't to deal with crooks and idiots and has fresh bones delivered to her kennel door every morning by a devoted friend