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.
Wednesday, February 25, 2009
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.
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.
Friday, February 20, 2009
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
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
Tuesday, February 10, 2009
It's Tuesday 10th Feb and it's Jahli's birthday and a full moon is up and guess what?
I went outside to check my bonfire as a fantastic scirocco is blowing, looked up and saw a moonbow. A moonbow? a rainbow caused by the moon's light passing through an approaching shower blowing in from the mountain. A first. Never imagined such a thing!
Went to grab my camera (doubting all the while the moonbow could possibly register), someone calls from New York and in those few seconds the moonbow disappears. But it was there, honest. A magic moonbow for Jahli.
Moral of story: Never let a phone call get in the way of a moonbow.
This morning I checked on Google and look...well this link won't come up, but it's
http://www.atoptics.co.uk/rainbows/bowim51.htm
I feel privileged I do.
I went outside to check my bonfire as a fantastic scirocco is blowing, looked up and saw a moonbow. A moonbow? a rainbow caused by the moon's light passing through an approaching shower blowing in from the mountain. A first. Never imagined such a thing!
Went to grab my camera (doubting all the while the moonbow could possibly register), someone calls from New York and in those few seconds the moonbow disappears. But it was there, honest. A magic moonbow for Jahli.
Moral of story: Never let a phone call get in the way of a moonbow.
This morning I checked on Google and look...well this link won't come up, but it's
http://www.atoptics.co.uk/rainbows/bowim51.htm
I feel privileged I do.
Tuesday, February 03, 2009
The month of January
I know what your thinking...another story about cats (what is it with this guy?)
Well this is a picture of..what? A bonfire? Yes, it's a bonfire but also a ritual. It's what I do on the 31st of January every year to destroy the dark God of winter and to clear the way for the changing of the light.
And I won't even go into the fact that I was ordered to stay next to the fire throughout to make sure Tikka didn't jump in it.
I mean, as if she would ?
Well this is a picture of..what? A bonfire? Yes, it's a bonfire but also a ritual. It's what I do on the 31st of January every year to destroy the dark God of winter and to clear the way for the changing of the light.
And I won't even go into the fact that I was ordered to stay next to the fire throughout to make sure Tikka didn't jump in it.
I mean, as if she would ?
Thursday, January 29, 2009
sockser
Looks innocent doesn't he?
But not only is he a type of domestic shark who spends most of his time up one tree or other in the garden waiting for birds to pop into his mouth, but he disappeared the other day; didn't come home for a day, which he hasn't ever done in his life before
I did the usual 5K search (a family ritual when any one of the animals goes missing). This Bessie enjoys immensely, it being an extra walk on top of her evening stone chasing event, all the time thinking he'll be back later and not worrying too much about it. But then, but then.... I come across this pile of, well I don't know what it was..excrement, vomit? in the grass in the upper garden. And oh my, it looked like bits of Socksie, black and white fur, mixed in with whatever it was. I didn't dare say anything to Lili and went back two or three times to check again, even much later in the night with a torch.. rifling through it with plastic gloves on and finding bits of bone and gristle.
At that stage, I began to lose it, convinced as I was, that he's probably been eaten by a crafty old fox: not unknown during these dark January nights when the animals are starving. Thought I'd collect his bits together and take them to the local vet in the morning for analysis, (yet again to suffer her annoying habit of always replying to my bad Italian in bad English).
All these things running through my head as I prepared to give Lili the tragic news.
I take a deep breath, and ..and......
At that very moment he walks into the kitchen!
Socks!!
The prodigal Socks.
Hugged and squeezed and triple fed, bounced around and cosseted.
With a 'What is all the fuss about' look on his face
But not only is he a type of domestic shark who spends most of his time up one tree or other in the garden waiting for birds to pop into his mouth, but he disappeared the other day; didn't come home for a day, which he hasn't ever done in his life before
I did the usual 5K search (a family ritual when any one of the animals goes missing). This Bessie enjoys immensely, it being an extra walk on top of her evening stone chasing event, all the time thinking he'll be back later and not worrying too much about it. But then, but then.... I come across this pile of, well I don't know what it was..excrement, vomit? in the grass in the upper garden. And oh my, it looked like bits of Socksie, black and white fur, mixed in with whatever it was. I didn't dare say anything to Lili and went back two or three times to check again, even much later in the night with a torch.. rifling through it with plastic gloves on and finding bits of bone and gristle.
At that stage, I began to lose it, convinced as I was, that he's probably been eaten by a crafty old fox: not unknown during these dark January nights when the animals are starving. Thought I'd collect his bits together and take them to the local vet in the morning for analysis, (yet again to suffer her annoying habit of always replying to my bad Italian in bad English).
All these things running through my head as I prepared to give Lili the tragic news.
I take a deep breath, and ..and......
At that very moment he walks into the kitchen!
Socks!!
The prodigal Socks.
Hugged and squeezed and triple fed, bounced around and cosseted.
With a 'What is all the fuss about' look on his face
Wednesday, December 24, 2008
Christmas 2008
Bravo Fortù
Forch, two days after op.
This is for all fans of Fortunato (aka Forch or Fortù)
Two days ago he had a major operation to remove his spleen. He was back the same evening raring to go and hungry as a horse. His tummy is shaved naked and he's got stacks of stitches and we think he is suffering some post-op pain. But he is oh so brave and an example to us all.
Snow forecast tomorrow, probably a metre when it's carried on the Bora from the Balkans. But don't worry, we'll wrap his tummy up in a huge sock.
Tikka thinks he's wonderful.
Day after....the others, Tikka, Socks and Lila jostling in the snow; Tikka's first ever experience of it!
And our road this morning...
Forch, two days after op.
This is for all fans of Fortunato (aka Forch or Fortù)
Two days ago he had a major operation to remove his spleen. He was back the same evening raring to go and hungry as a horse. His tummy is shaved naked and he's got stacks of stitches and we think he is suffering some post-op pain. But he is oh so brave and an example to us all.
Snow forecast tomorrow, probably a metre when it's carried on the Bora from the Balkans. But don't worry, we'll wrap his tummy up in a huge sock.
Tikka thinks he's wonderful.
Day after....the others, Tikka, Socks and Lila jostling in the snow; Tikka's first ever experience of it!
And our road this morning...
Tuesday, December 16, 2008
Caribinieri
No not this photo! This is one of Bessie for all those of you who have been requesting a Christmas portrait of La Bessalina. She tells me that she's been asked to play the part of a sheep in the local Nativity play. Great for the part
Now the story!
Went to fetch my car yesterday evening in the Piazza and it wasn't there! Scanned my brain for the obvious possibilities; onset of Alzheimer's, parked it somewhere else, it's been stolen. Then I noticed the cheese and salami mobile shop was open (it's a long white caravan parked to the side of the Piazza) and I realised that's where I'd parked it an hour previous as it was closed at the time. So I march squeamishly up to said mobile salami and cheese shop and say to the lady owner 'Excuse me, but was there by any chance a Toyota parked here which now isn't?'
'Ah,' she says, 'so it was you, it's been towed away. I waited an hour but couldn't wait any longer'
'So where is it now?' I ask.
'Wherever they take them' she says
A customer tells me I have to go to the Caribinieri because they deal with such misdemeanors. Oh dear! Off I trundle up the hill to the Caribinieri HQ. (calling Lili on the way who says 'Cripes, that'll cost us a bomb') Now these are scary places behind 4 metre high metal barriers and I press the bell and wait breathlessly on account of steep climb and general fear.
Out comes the Marshall (the boss!) (oh My God!)
I say, it was me. I'm the one who had his car towed away.
'Hmmpf' he grunts,' better come inside, it's a grave offence you've committed, where do you live? show me your ID and driving licence. You'll be fined for this, have points taken off your licence and have to pay a whacking fee for the tow away'
'Yes, I say, 'and quite rightly too. It was a stupid thing I did and I'm happy to pay for such a mindless error'
He looks at me with surprise and smiles.
'You know', I say, 'I've been parking in the piazza for years and know jolly well I shouldn't have parked there. How could I have been so reckless!'
He softens even more.
'Oh, hang it all' he says,'We all make mistakes sometimes. Let's forget about it. I'll call the tow away guy and you'll have to pay him of course. He does and he says to the chap 'Look be easy on this chap, it was just a silly error'
'Do you know where the garage is?' he asks.
'Yes, more or less' I answer.
'Do you have some one to take you there, it's quite a way'
'No', I say 'I'll walk, don't worry'
'Oh, it's far too far ' he says,'Come on, grab your documents and I'll zoom you down there'
And he does.
We're there in three minutes flat and he shakes my hand as he says goodbye.
There's my car perched up on the tow away wagon and the driver comes over with a smile.
Oh, sorry I had to do that he says, guess you just forgot, he smiles, happens to us all.
So there I am, ready to drive off, go to pay him and he says,
Hey, don't worry, you don't owe me anything.
Sort of thing that makes you smile inside for days after.
Those little human sympathies which remind me of why I choose to live in Italy.
Thursday, December 04, 2008
I quite forgot
Some of you have been kindly asking about Tikka and the state of her paralyzed foot.
Well, sometimes we think she may be getting some feeling back into it, but it could just be wishful thinking. But she gets around just fine, runs like a rocket on three legs and can even climb trees. Can't get down again but we're working on it.
Here's her Christmas portrait for all her fans out there!
Well, sometimes we think she may be getting some feeling back into it, but it could just be wishful thinking. But she gets around just fine, runs like a rocket on three legs and can even climb trees. Can't get down again but we're working on it.
Here's her Christmas portrait for all her fans out there!
Pilates and snow
Snow where it should be (and remain there)..on the mountains that is.
Oh! With the exception of Christmas where it's allowed to do so (snow) for a couple of days; big flakes drifting dreamingly down but not so heavy as to crush our flowering bushes or take whole branches off our trees like it did last year. Oh, and please can we have no ice, 'cos I went down like sack of Sicilian potatoes last winter on my way to my Pilates class. (This is beginning to sound like a Christmas prayer to Baby Jesus. It can be, it can be...being as it's nearly his birthday and all)
And, talking about my Pilates class, I must say that I was quite put out last evening.
Usually as you know it's just me and twenty ladies. Now after two years, some of them have begun to speak to me. You know, the odd word here and there. like 'Ciao' and 'Buonanotte' Sometimes I even get two or three words or even six put together, such as .'It's chilly tonight, or even 'Can you move your car please' So, in short you see I'm pretty well accepted into the group.
Imagine my horror then, when two minutes into the class, this big hairy brute of a guy barges in and takes a place next to me. Next to me? And really close too. This is a spot I've cultivated as my own for two whole years, just to the left of the orange pillar. OK, I know it's a quarter of the entire space but it's how women are with men. Well it is! Like when they always give up the front seat of a car to a man.
The last remaining vestige of past supremacies you might mumble (but not too loud, especially if Lili is in earshot because she has actually eliminated this last remaining vestige much to the physical and psychological discomfort of male friends who might be visiting).
Where was I ?
Ah yes, this bloke!
So, he comes in late, disrupts the class and then? He starts talking collectively to all the women!! And what's worse they all start giggling and answering back!
And it puts me right off my 'one-legged butterfly' position. In fact my legs have turned to jelly and I'm fiercly inwardly debating whether or not to just walk out of the gym.
And it gets worse! Within minutes he's huffing and puffing and gasping and sweating and clunking me every time we get the 'arms stretch' order Robbie the Pilates teacher turns the music up (I imagine to muffle the gasping next to me) and it's Tom Jones singing 'Sex Bomb' This is too much, I've really gotta talk to him about this, I mean not just the music but allowing other men into the class. By this time my mind and body have lost control completely and I'm competing with him to stretch further and touch my toes for longer, in fact my whole foot!
And he can't. He can't! He can't touch his toes!!
I mean what sort of man is this?
A wimp obviously.
I might have known.
When I get back home and walk into the kitchen, Lili asks 'Why the smug smile on your face?'
Nothing, I say, just a man thing. I was thinking about taking up a manly sport, like darts.
'Oh' she says ' Is it like archery? And can I do it too'
Bad day, bad day!
Oh! With the exception of Christmas where it's allowed to do so (snow) for a couple of days; big flakes drifting dreamingly down but not so heavy as to crush our flowering bushes or take whole branches off our trees like it did last year. Oh, and please can we have no ice, 'cos I went down like sack of Sicilian potatoes last winter on my way to my Pilates class. (This is beginning to sound like a Christmas prayer to Baby Jesus. It can be, it can be...being as it's nearly his birthday and all)
And, talking about my Pilates class, I must say that I was quite put out last evening.
Usually as you know it's just me and twenty ladies. Now after two years, some of them have begun to speak to me. You know, the odd word here and there. like 'Ciao' and 'Buonanotte' Sometimes I even get two or three words or even six put together, such as .'It's chilly tonight, or even 'Can you move your car please' So, in short you see I'm pretty well accepted into the group.
Imagine my horror then, when two minutes into the class, this big hairy brute of a guy barges in and takes a place next to me. Next to me? And really close too. This is a spot I've cultivated as my own for two whole years, just to the left of the orange pillar. OK, I know it's a quarter of the entire space but it's how women are with men. Well it is! Like when they always give up the front seat of a car to a man.
The last remaining vestige of past supremacies you might mumble (but not too loud, especially if Lili is in earshot because she has actually eliminated this last remaining vestige much to the physical and psychological discomfort of male friends who might be visiting).
Where was I ?
Ah yes, this bloke!
So, he comes in late, disrupts the class and then? He starts talking collectively to all the women!! And what's worse they all start giggling and answering back!
And it puts me right off my 'one-legged butterfly' position. In fact my legs have turned to jelly and I'm fiercly inwardly debating whether or not to just walk out of the gym.
And it gets worse! Within minutes he's huffing and puffing and gasping and sweating and clunking me every time we get the 'arms stretch' order Robbie the Pilates teacher turns the music up (I imagine to muffle the gasping next to me) and it's Tom Jones singing 'Sex Bomb' This is too much, I've really gotta talk to him about this, I mean not just the music but allowing other men into the class. By this time my mind and body have lost control completely and I'm competing with him to stretch further and touch my toes for longer, in fact my whole foot!
And he can't. He can't! He can't touch his toes!!
I mean what sort of man is this?
A wimp obviously.
I might have known.
When I get back home and walk into the kitchen, Lili asks 'Why the smug smile on your face?'
Nothing, I say, just a man thing. I was thinking about taking up a manly sport, like darts.
'Oh' she says ' Is it like archery? And can I do it too'
Bad day, bad day!
Monday, November 17, 2008
goodbye
I want to say goodbye to two friends, both young and full of life and energy. Marina died yesterday after a long brave attempt to hang on and come back to us. her sister has written a lovely goodbye too http://be-reckless.blogs.com/be_reckless/2008/11/marina-finally-traveling-again.html.
Goodbye, too, to Gaby. You too were too young to go.
Lili and I wish you both buon viaggio
Goodbye, too, to Gaby. You too were too young to go.
Lili and I wish you both buon viaggio
Monday, November 10, 2008
Truffles and fairies
Do you know what a fairy looks like?
No no, I mean a real fairy!
...They're tiny with little wings and they whisper honeyed phrases like 'Would you like a warm marshmallow?'.
No, please! Quite wrong!
So here, to enlighten you is a picture of a whole bunch of them up in the Sibillini mountains, where, legend has it, they seduced poor young shepherds in fields as they lay.
How do I know this? Well, it's all described, along with other wondrous information, in our new Museum, at the top of the old town in Amandola.
But don't they look delicious? Most probably they all work in local bakeries in the daytime and go searching for poor young shepherds at night which would explain why the latter always look so knackered as I drive past in the mornings..and why shepherding seems to be so popular around here.
But before you rush to sign up for a career of shepherding hereabouts, I should add that these fairies had/ have goats legs and that the poor young shepherds were/are bewitched forever.
Hmmm! Now I think about it, it explains a lot, I mean about the strange nature of some folks about here. Haven't seen any nymphs with goats legs though. Our local bakery girl certainly hasn't got them because she goes to the same Pilates class as me. And I certainly would have noticed, believe me.
Hey! Look! There's a figure behind the Sibyline fairies. Cripes! It could be the devil. Now that is weird!
Oh and here's a picture of our museum. Most impressed I am, most impressed.
Anyway, I was in town to visit the 'Diamante a Tavola' fiera, our local yearly Truffle bash where I bought two jars of marmalade and one of Dog Rose jam. There who should I meet but the President of the local Truffle Society (one step down from God) who tells me that local truffle hero Bernie was up foraging last weekend (of course he got the wrong weekend), and only one small trufflette to boot(read his article on http://www.guardian.co.uk/lifeandstyle/2008/nov/10/white-truffles-amandola-italy) not that it made much difference because this year they are so scarce, that even his very miniscule find would have won a prize......the summer having been too hot and the Autumn rains arriving far too late. Yep, this year they are so scarce and this means they're gonna be costly.
Here are some photos of the fair with small truffles.
Nice weather, nice atmosphere, mediocre marmalade. Mountain living at its best, before the snows arrive.
No no, I mean a real fairy!
...They're tiny with little wings and they whisper honeyed phrases like 'Would you like a warm marshmallow?'.
No, please! Quite wrong!
So here, to enlighten you is a picture of a whole bunch of them up in the Sibillini mountains, where, legend has it, they seduced poor young shepherds in fields as they lay.
How do I know this? Well, it's all described, along with other wondrous information, in our new Museum, at the top of the old town in Amandola.
But don't they look delicious? Most probably they all work in local bakeries in the daytime and go searching for poor young shepherds at night which would explain why the latter always look so knackered as I drive past in the mornings..and why shepherding seems to be so popular around here.
But before you rush to sign up for a career of shepherding hereabouts, I should add that these fairies had/ have goats legs and that the poor young shepherds were/are bewitched forever.
Hmmm! Now I think about it, it explains a lot, I mean about the strange nature of some folks about here. Haven't seen any nymphs with goats legs though. Our local bakery girl certainly hasn't got them because she goes to the same Pilates class as me. And I certainly would have noticed, believe me.
Hey! Look! There's a figure behind the Sibyline fairies. Cripes! It could be the devil. Now that is weird!
Oh and here's a picture of our museum. Most impressed I am, most impressed.
Anyway, I was in town to visit the 'Diamante a Tavola' fiera, our local yearly Truffle bash where I bought two jars of marmalade and one of Dog Rose jam. There who should I meet but the President of the local Truffle Society (one step down from God) who tells me that local truffle hero Bernie was up foraging last weekend (of course he got the wrong weekend), and only one small trufflette to boot(read his article on http://www.guardian.co.uk/lifeandstyle/2008/nov/10/white-truffles-amandola-italy) not that it made much difference because this year they are so scarce, that even his very miniscule find would have won a prize......the summer having been too hot and the Autumn rains arriving far too late. Yep, this year they are so scarce and this means they're gonna be costly.
Here are some photos of the fair with small truffles.
Nice weather, nice atmosphere, mediocre marmalade. Mountain living at its best, before the snows arrive.
Saturday, September 27, 2008
24hour cops
You've heard of a sleeping policeman?
Sure you have.
So what do you think this is?
A Darlek.
No, don't be daft..
It's a 24 hour cop. That's what it is...that's what they call them. No, That's not true, that's what they probably would call them if they thought about it, which I'm sure they don't. It's what I call them, maybe it'll stick.
But they are sprouting up everywhere. In towns, outa town, some blue, some orange, some red but all innocuous.
What they do is film you as you drive past (thinking they are just waste bins)... well, you might until you get a speed fine in the post. Yep, any speed over 50KPH and you're done for
And this little piece of living participatory street art below is entitled ' An assasinated 24 hour cop'
Wasn't me what dunnit, honest, but the artist, whoever she was, has the full support and gratitude of most of us locals ( except maybe the town policeman, the human one )
You'll find it on the road to Macerata just north of Sarnano.
Hoot as you pass.
Sure you have.
So what do you think this is?
A Darlek.
No, don't be daft..
It's a 24 hour cop. That's what it is...that's what they call them. No, That's not true, that's what they probably would call them if they thought about it, which I'm sure they don't. It's what I call them, maybe it'll stick.
But they are sprouting up everywhere. In towns, outa town, some blue, some orange, some red but all innocuous.
What they do is film you as you drive past (thinking they are just waste bins)... well, you might until you get a speed fine in the post. Yep, any speed over 50KPH and you're done for
And this little piece of living participatory street art below is entitled ' An assasinated 24 hour cop'
Wasn't me what dunnit, honest, but the artist, whoever she was, has the full support and gratitude of most of us locals ( except maybe the town policeman, the human one )
You'll find it on the road to Macerata just north of Sarnano.
Hoot as you pass.
Tuesday, September 02, 2008
Synchronised divinity
I was going to write a blog about synchronised swimming (see sketch below with me on left teaching my 2012 Olympic hopefuls) at the lake at Fiastra..
......but a friend told me that he had a water diviner coming round to search for water on his land, and..well... I've always fancied myself as a bit of a hot shot water diviner, but I'm always willing to take a step back and learn from others...so I zoomed over to friend's restored mill near Mogliano and met Paulo, the water diviner. Oh, you know, we shot the breeze about our divine experiences, compared twigs, the sort of things we diviners do together when we meet, which is about every half century.
Just kidding really. But I did have crack at it when I lived in Tuscany and after hours wandering aimlessly over swampy fields, I did discover that my twig was twitching, called the digger and we dug two metres down and woosh, out it suddenly came and the well became the water supply for my wondrous veggie patch.
Paulo taught me more than these remembered basics however. You talk to your diving stick (in your mind he said) and it tells you where to go and shoots back when a source of water is found. That day he found two underground streams converging and chose to locate the future well at that point. He said the water is 50 metres down but I find that hard to believe because my inner voice said 10, but we'll see when they dig. (if they ever do, because the source is unfortunately in the neighbours field, bad luck that)
I asked him how he knew the depth to be 50 metres. Same process, he said, I just ask the stick at every stage, 10, 20, 30 metres and so on and it says yes when it's the correct depth.
Does it ever trick you I asked?
Only when it's in a bad mood, he said.
I'm thinking 'I believe the song and not the singer'
Hmm
Paolo at work.... great job, great job.
......but a friend told me that he had a water diviner coming round to search for water on his land, and..well... I've always fancied myself as a bit of a hot shot water diviner, but I'm always willing to take a step back and learn from others...so I zoomed over to friend's restored mill near Mogliano and met Paulo, the water diviner. Oh, you know, we shot the breeze about our divine experiences, compared twigs, the sort of things we diviners do together when we meet, which is about every half century.
Just kidding really. But I did have crack at it when I lived in Tuscany and after hours wandering aimlessly over swampy fields, I did discover that my twig was twitching, called the digger and we dug two metres down and woosh, out it suddenly came and the well became the water supply for my wondrous veggie patch.
Paulo taught me more than these remembered basics however. You talk to your diving stick (in your mind he said) and it tells you where to go and shoots back when a source of water is found. That day he found two underground streams converging and chose to locate the future well at that point. He said the water is 50 metres down but I find that hard to believe because my inner voice said 10, but we'll see when they dig. (if they ever do, because the source is unfortunately in the neighbours field, bad luck that)
I asked him how he knew the depth to be 50 metres. Same process, he said, I just ask the stick at every stage, 10, 20, 30 metres and so on and it says yes when it's the correct depth.
Does it ever trick you I asked?
Only when it's in a bad mood, he said.
I'm thinking 'I believe the song and not the singer'
Hmm
Paolo at work.... great job, great job.
Saturday, August 09, 2008
First we'll take Manhattan
Having a bad technology day!
In fact I'm nervous about using the computer. Lili says I'd best go back to bed. It started with the washing machine which did strange and lurid things to my posh new beach shorts. Now what do I care about beach shorts? But these were extra swish and I don't mind telling you I cut quite a dash in them (not that I could ever see them, says Lili, over my beer belly) Hmm.
Then this morning I tried to download some images from my telefonino onto my computer.
Zilch! No connection. Try with battery recharger... Zero! Then it dawns on me I'd dug it out wet from the beach bag at Altidona yesterday (somebody had put a bottle of water next to it, the same somebody who made my beach shorts metamorphosize)
And it's hot and everything is wilting in the garden and the promised storm was just an electric one with ten drops of rain
The telefonino images were of the Leonard Cohen concert which we zoomed over to Lucca to see. It was great, and you felt like it was historic to be there. It was worth the ages it took to get there (a two hour pizza lunch en route for the ladies, you understand), then the hysteria and crushing at the entrance of the concert, then getting lost on the way back and ending up in Orvieto, so deep we were into singing Leonard's songs. So they were the photos...I guess now lost forever along with my telefonino. Oh No!
So here are some more images of the electric storm and the weird orange light that made us look like Martians.
Tonight there' a Tango festival in San Ginesio, but Lili says we best stay home until it passes.
In fact I'm nervous about using the computer. Lili says I'd best go back to bed. It started with the washing machine which did strange and lurid things to my posh new beach shorts. Now what do I care about beach shorts? But these were extra swish and I don't mind telling you I cut quite a dash in them (not that I could ever see them, says Lili, over my beer belly) Hmm.
Then this morning I tried to download some images from my telefonino onto my computer.
Zilch! No connection. Try with battery recharger... Zero! Then it dawns on me I'd dug it out wet from the beach bag at Altidona yesterday (somebody had put a bottle of water next to it, the same somebody who made my beach shorts metamorphosize)
And it's hot and everything is wilting in the garden and the promised storm was just an electric one with ten drops of rain
The telefonino images were of the Leonard Cohen concert which we zoomed over to Lucca to see. It was great, and you felt like it was historic to be there. It was worth the ages it took to get there (a two hour pizza lunch en route for the ladies, you understand), then the hysteria and crushing at the entrance of the concert, then getting lost on the way back and ending up in Orvieto, so deep we were into singing Leonard's songs. So they were the photos...I guess now lost forever along with my telefonino. Oh No!
So here are some more images of the electric storm and the weird orange light that made us look like Martians.
Tonight there' a Tango festival in San Ginesio, but Lili says we best stay home until it passes.
Thursday, July 24, 2008
Animals, babies and sunsets
I've always considered photographing the above categories strictly taboo, especially babies, especially friend's babies; although I must confess to having broken the animal part of the taboo with Tikka and Marina. Went out with friends to dinner at Mogliano yesterday evening and didn't have my camera, although my feeling when leaving home was to take it with me...however there was this gorgeous African sunset the like of which I have never seen. Had my telefonino however and look!
I never go to Mogliano that often and have never been to this restaurant ever but who should come in but two old friends from Ascoli. We'd parted on bad terms some seven years ago but here we were hugging each other and thus obliterating the past.
So, life is full of surprises.
They had a new baby with them and I wish I'd taken its photo. Taboos and grudges are useless concepts, aren't they?
This week I've been invited out to lunch and to dinner in the evening just about every day. Word has got out that Lili is away on a workshop (what again you ask?) Yes and for Italians this means this poor man is going to starve. Who's gonna cook for him and shop for him? Fridge is empty and the house is a mess. Animals are dropping with hunger and the garden has become a jungle full of wild beasts such as snails and black squirrels. None of this is true (except the black squirrel part), but what is it about women that makes them want to believe we can't cope? As I write this my friend GG calls and says he's heard I'm on my own and his wife says we should meet for a pizza in town tonight.
I say great, 'cos I'm starving and I've run out of baked beans and chips and I don't think I can cope.
I never go to Mogliano that often and have never been to this restaurant ever but who should come in but two old friends from Ascoli. We'd parted on bad terms some seven years ago but here we were hugging each other and thus obliterating the past.
So, life is full of surprises.
They had a new baby with them and I wish I'd taken its photo. Taboos and grudges are useless concepts, aren't they?
This week I've been invited out to lunch and to dinner in the evening just about every day. Word has got out that Lili is away on a workshop (what again you ask?) Yes and for Italians this means this poor man is going to starve. Who's gonna cook for him and shop for him? Fridge is empty and the house is a mess. Animals are dropping with hunger and the garden has become a jungle full of wild beasts such as snails and black squirrels. None of this is true (except the black squirrel part), but what is it about women that makes them want to believe we can't cope? As I write this my friend GG calls and says he's heard I'm on my own and his wife says we should meet for a pizza in town tonight.
I say great, 'cos I'm starving and I've run out of baked beans and chips and I don't think I can cope.
Monday, June 30, 2008
Two black mice and one white
Two black mice, one white; a green crocodile, a pink elephant and a white ball. Her play times (of at least an hour) each day. And she checks that all her toys are there. These exercise sessions are essential for her paralysed arm according to our vet, who tells us this evening that she may put a metal plate in Tikka's paw to straighten it. We're not sure though, don't want to distress her. On the subject of distress, I was bringing my paintings back from the Perugia show yesterday evening when the car went dead on me. Sunday evening. 9pm in the middle of nowhere and the other side of the mountains. Went back today to retrieve it. Thankfully car intact and all paintings inside. 31C and frying in the heat I was and I was helped by angels to get the car to a place of safety. Real angels.
Witchcraft tips
In the evening of the full moon, wander down to the forest with Bessie for protection and collect handfalls of wild rose petals from the wood below the hunters lodge, yellow ginestra flowers from a little lower down (but don't wander too far, dear). Then, when you are safely home, soak them in cold spring water from the magic fountain at Rustici, over night under the light of the full moon. In the morning splash your body, in particular your hair and head with the cold flower infused water...and this will sharpen your mind and body and protect you from spells and periods of depression.
Thursday, June 26, 2008
Witchcraft
Witchcraft.
Funny, I've only just remembered that I did my thesis at Art College on Witchcraft. Don't ask me why, just something that fascinated me at the time. Not by chance then, you might say, that I find myself living in one of the witchiest places in Europe.
Here are some witchy things to contemplate.
Fred.
This is Fred
Fred emerges at this time every year and frolicks with the fireflies, eats then too I imagine. How old is Fred would you say? Twelve years old possibly, maybe ten?
Forget it, you'll never get near it. He's 164.
None of our seven animals take any notice of him because of his invisibilty. this BTW is Lili's notion, i.e that he only makes himself visible to us as a kind of thank you for bringing him back to the World after he'd made that dreadful mistake (being in the wrong place at the wrong time... in the cattle stalle when they were laying the floor in 1850)
I'd written about this rospo miracle some years back but seeing him on our doorstep last night makes it worth a retell,
I was digging out some crumbling brick tiles from the floor of the old stalle
(now my studio). Dave was giving me a hand and there were two or three bricks which were in pieces but difficult to dislodge. We tried bashing and levering not to no avail, so we had to prise every broken bit out with a screwdriver. I'd taken out the whole of one brick and was removing the mortar beneath when I saw an eye open within the mortar dust; then a slight movement and then 'Yipes!' And we watched, mesmerised, as a toad pulled himself out of the debris, shook himself, gave us both a cursory glance, and wandered out of the door into the garden and into the 21st Century.
That's Fred.
Funny, I've only just remembered that I did my thesis at Art College on Witchcraft. Don't ask me why, just something that fascinated me at the time. Not by chance then, you might say, that I find myself living in one of the witchiest places in Europe.
Here are some witchy things to contemplate.
Fred.
This is Fred
Fred emerges at this time every year and frolicks with the fireflies, eats then too I imagine. How old is Fred would you say? Twelve years old possibly, maybe ten?
Forget it, you'll never get near it. He's 164.
None of our seven animals take any notice of him because of his invisibilty. this BTW is Lili's notion, i.e that he only makes himself visible to us as a kind of thank you for bringing him back to the World after he'd made that dreadful mistake (being in the wrong place at the wrong time... in the cattle stalle when they were laying the floor in 1850)
I'd written about this rospo miracle some years back but seeing him on our doorstep last night makes it worth a retell,
I was digging out some crumbling brick tiles from the floor of the old stalle
(now my studio). Dave was giving me a hand and there were two or three bricks which were in pieces but difficult to dislodge. We tried bashing and levering not to no avail, so we had to prise every broken bit out with a screwdriver. I'd taken out the whole of one brick and was removing the mortar beneath when I saw an eye open within the mortar dust; then a slight movement and then 'Yipes!' And we watched, mesmerised, as a toad pulled himself out of the debris, shook himself, gave us both a cursory glance, and wandered out of the door into the garden and into the 21st Century.
That's Fred.
Monday, June 23, 2008
videos and assassins
Today I've been out in the garden aligning my sacred stones. Now what else would you do on the solstice?
Up at dawn I was, at 5.30 to check my alignments and listen to the bird song (what bird song? Socksie has eaten most of them...we twigged this when we saw him with a different bird in his mouth at any one time. He is, in short, an assassin and we don't know what to do about it)
Well, eager ears, my dawn stone alignment proved to be a complete success, by which I mean that I can confirm that our planet still is tilted at the same angle and hasn't change its orbit around our sun.
Not so with my westerly alignment at sunset. It was out by 7 degrees. Now this means, either we are heading towards Mars at a rate of thousands of K per second, or that Lilla (Socksie's sister) had jumped on it (as was her habit during the winter for some unknown reason) and Lili had just just stood it up again not respecting my cosmic organisation. Anyway, both deny it.
So equipped with just a garden fork, and under my barked instructions, Lili hopped from left to right as I set my sights from my main mini Stonehenge stone against the westering one, dipping as it was at that moment under the Sibillas' torso.
A passing outsider might have mistaken her movements for a solsticial pagan dance ritual ( Aaah! ..so legends and myths are born I hear you whisper)
But success, westering stone re- aligned and cosmic order (at least in our garden) restored.
Apart, I should emphasise, from the murder of birds, mice , bees and butterflies which is going on faster than Americans eat hambugers. (I mean, are we not feeding them at home that they behave so?)
Summer's here at last. Arrived on same mid summer day after weeks of rain and low temperatures. Now we get 30C by day and it looks to stay that way for a while. And look at the lavender!
And the profusion of butterflies. The live ones that is , not the fallen one-winged victims of Tikka's right paw. Bees a-buzzin too and a heady mixture of a thousand scents fill the air.
Everything good in the garden.
And in the fields around us, Quinto, Graziella and Renzo are cutting and bailing hay.
I like the noise they make and to hear them shouting to each other.
You ask about Tikka.
Still no feeling in her left paw, so we will try another trip to the vets, just to see if anything can be done, although she is getting around just fine. We just worry about when the sheep dogs do their weekly raid and that she might be outside alone in the garden and not be able to escape fast enough. She can't climb trees you see. Built her a ladder though, although when they attack, they are fast and brutal. Bessie does her best as her guardian, but she's getting on in years. Our garden, our garden.
Thursday, June 19, 2008
Hey! Look at these
http://turismo.comune.perugia.it/canale.asp?id=465
http://sette-bello.blogspot.com/2008/06/portrait-of-artist-as-young-man.html
Now, if you're in Perugia Sat 21st or 28th, I'll be there at the show and I'll buy you a coffee and a cake
http://turismo.comune.perugia.it/canale.asp?id=465
http://sette-bello.blogspot.com/2008/06/portrait-of-artist-as-young-man.html
Now, if you're in Perugia Sat 21st or 28th, I'll be there at the show and I'll buy you a coffee and a cake
Saturday, June 14, 2008
June deep green
Just look at that green! It's supposed to be summer in Le Marche and I should be out there watering for an hour every evening, relaxing after dull day and lit up rouge by the glow of the westering sun, with a bottle of beer and a packet of crisps. But it has rained for almost two weeks now and the only life form getting any benefit on our property are the trees and plants, oh and a worm or two I would imagine and of course a fish would too(if we had one). Hmm, other pluses too now I think about it; reservoirs full, water bills bearable, no dust in the house from passing cars and a great year for trout (which you can fish for E10 a day up near Franco's place on the river Ambro just below the Abbey)
Tomorrow we have to drive across the mountains to Perugia to put up my show of paintings so I do hope it's not bucketing down like it is at this very moment.
You were asking about Tikka
We scoured all the websites for info about nerve damage and made endless trips to the vet but poor Tikka still has no feeling in her left paw. Seems it depends on what sort of damage there is to the nerve, poor mite. So if anybody out there has any info on this front?
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