Kittens, Roots, Translations and More Kittens

Monday 11 April 2011 -  After a wonderful nights sleep, I wake to the sound of stillness, no cars trundle by, nothing but the calm of the mountain permeates the air. It’s 07.00, I rise and make my way downstairs, the kettle is put over the gas and I open the front door and take in a lungful of fresh air. I turn on my iPod and Tanita Tikaram begins to sing ‘Cathedral Song’ as the kettle whistles on the stove.

I begin making a tomato sauce in readiness for dinner, (no bottled sauces for me). A good pasta sauce requires time, and is better when twice cooked. As the red liquid bubbles on the stove I prepare breakfast. Being a ‘Potteries’ lad, I have grown up with oatcakes for breakfast; these are a type of pancake served with savoury fillings, mainly breakfast items like bacon, sausage, egg etc. As I have ‘smuggled’ some over the border, my Italian breakfast today is positively pottery. (Thee kin tack thee yoth ar’t t’Stoke, but ye conna tack thee potter are’t t’o yoth). It’s hard to escape your roots. (Translation: You can take the boy out of stoke, but you cannot take the potter out of the boy.)

We clean out the third bedroom, which is essentially an attic room we weren’t aware of when we purchased the house. We check the roof, a few tiles need replacing, but overall it’s in good condition. Considering the house has been locked up since the end of November 2010, we were surprised to find no mould, and no damp, everything we left here has stayed dry and clean.

In the afternoon we pop into Pescara to purchase a window and stop off at the supermarket to get a few things. We load up the trolley with some essentials (Salad), and some non essentials (Wine). We get to the checkout and the cashier has a problem scanning our chicken, she tries three times, then makes three attempts at punching the barcode numbers in manually, before tossing the package aside and scanning the next item. I make an attempt to persuade her to let me fetch another one to scan, but she has none of it. So chicken-less we pay and saunter out of the store.

We have brought 2 litres of 95% proof alcohol, so back at Archi, we zest and juice lemons to make Limoncello, on May 20 this batch will be ready, making 4 litres. As the lemon begins its absorption into the alcohol, I finish off the pasta sauce, adding some spicy Italian sausage and some good quality linguine (De Cecco No7).

We eat dinner then spend the evening talking as music plays. Tracey Ullman sings ‘Breakaway’, as I think about how things have changed over the last year. Being between homes is an odd feeling, yes I have a base in the UK, but this is just a box to subsist in. 50% of my possessions are in England with the other 50% being in Italy, I have lived with this odd feeling of displacement for 9 months now and guess I shall have to live with it for a while longer, until life sorts itself out and our house is restored and made habitable. I cannot begin to understand however, how people who really suffer displacement feel, we are 2 years on since the earthquake in L’Aquila, and there are families still living in tents, waiting to go back to their homes.

Tuesday 12 April 2011 – I cook breakfast as Atomic Kitten sing ‘I Want Your Love’, the boisterous backing track sets me up for the day, I’m in a boisterous bouncy mood, and itching to be active. As the scouse ‘kittens’ sing I pass the feral kitten we’ve adopted and called Samson a slice of the smuggled bacon. Samson seems to like the taste of bacon; which is one thing most Brits over here say they miss.

We arrive at the house, and Spike takes a look at our chainsaw that refuses to work, he picks it up, and within seconds it’s purring, like a contented kitten. Within seconds the first tree falls, followed by another, we cleared a few of the trees that have been left to grow wild last time we were over, but the chainsaw makes short work of it. Our land has olive trees that are precious over here, you can’t cut them down without permission, however the other trees must be removed to allow the olives to flourish. People talk of these other trees as useless, but us they’re our next few years supply of wood for the wood burner.

I get to grips with the strimmer and within minutes I’m waging war on the weeds that grow along the driveway. It’s hot and the sun takes no prisoners on a day like this, and foolishly I have no hat. I spend the afternoon with music playing, ‘Zombie’ by The Cranberries belts out over the valley, as I use the chainsaw to cut up the felled trees into manageable logs. I move the logs and kindling into one of the downstairs rooms to keep it dry, and also away from light-fingered passers by. I hear Spike attacking the last of the trees that block our view and as it crashes down the slope I take a photo of our view, now unmasked by any trees.

Rozz invites us to dinner, we take the opportunity to shower and afterwards share a few glasses of prosecco. Rozz makes a wonderful lasagne, I have two servings but could have quite happily scoffed the lot it was so delicious, as we chat I craftily pick at the leftovers in the dish. To use an expression from the kids I teach – OMG it’s sick! (Translation: Goodness me, that’s jolly good.)

We get back to Archi, and have a gin and tonic. Dutch says, “You’re hairs going white and you’re head’s like a beetroot.” Note to self: Get a hat and possibly a divorce. At 9.30, The Cocteau Twins are playing ‘Theft and Wandering Around Lost’, I’m finding it hard to stay awake, it’s nice to be tired after hard work rather than from doing nothing. I call it a day, as the wind has an argument with some plastic chairs outside.

Wednesday 13 April 2011 – The wind has been quite fierce throughout the night, and we wake to a wet day, the mist is so dense it’s impossible to see very far. One of the advantages of being high up in the mountains, is on hot days there’s always a cooling breeze, one of the downsides is on wet days, it’s a miserable as a grieving mother. As usual music plays and Yoko Ono sings ‘O’Oh’ as I make breakfast and shuffle a few ideas around my head, for activities for the day.

It’s still raining, although the mist is lifting, so I play around with some video footage taken on the journey over.

Playing with the iPhone in a Swiss tunnel

With the sun breaking through, we decide to go to Megalo, a shopping centre in Chieti, here I find a DVD and book I want, so all in all the trip was successful. We have lunch at Megalo, just pizza slices and a small portion of torta rustica, oh yes and a refreshing cold beer. We then drive back via Lanciano and drop into the shops at the Poly Centre, before coming home via the scenic route over Castle Frentanno.

We stop for petrol, Tiziano Ferro is singing ‘Il Regalo Piú Grande’ from the Live in Rome CD. (The CD being a cure for last weeks music withdrawal). The young man working the pump asks me if I’m English, I say yes, he asks where I’m from. Now I am tempted to say England, in an attempt at Anglo-Italian sarcasm, but decide against it, so just say near Birmingham. He then asks me where do you live, I say Casoli and he becomes confused. I pay and drive off leaving him scratching his head.

When we finally sit down to dinner it’s 08.30, it’s surprising where the days go to, when you’re not governed by a clock. After a couple of glasses of Montepulciano d’Abruzzo Cyndi Lauper, begins to sing ‘I Drove All Night’, I stop her mid note and climb the stairs and collapse into bed, another day completed.

Thursday 14 April 2011 – The sun wakes me today, it’s golden fingers creeping into the bedroom to stroke my cheek. Samson comes for a feed, so I give him some of last nights left-over chicken. I then discover as he turns around that he is a she, so in haste she acquires a new name, ‘Thimble’. As The Human League play ‘Empire State Human’ I poach eggs, before packing some lunch items into the cool box, and leaving for some more honest toil on the land.

Today is made up with wood stripping, I cut the tiny twigs from the branches, these go into boxes, then the kindling is stacked in one place, the thicker branches in another and finally logs in another spot. I have had my first initiation into the Italian peasant lifestyle. I’m on wood duty for 4 hours, with the iPod shuffling in the shade, Ms Dynamite sings ‘Not Today’ from her brilliant second album, Judgement Days, which sadly didn’t do as well as her debut album, as I’m told it’s lunchtime.

I eat my first lunch at my house, it’s typically Italian, salad, olives, bread and cheese, with a cup of Yorkshire tea, non é Italiano tipicamente. (Translation: It’s not typically Italian.)

Our friend Tina drops by, it’s nice to see her as the last time we saw her was back in November, for lunch on her terrace. In the afternoon as Al Jolson sings ‘Swanee’ (Yes I have ‘the worlds greatest entertainer’ on my iPod) I get back to my task. After stripping and collating branches for a further 2 hours I’ve had enough, the boredom threshold has been met, and despite a task like this suiting my OCD, I’m itching to do some demolition. We have a stone outbuilding, that we set about taking down, and with brute force and some blood spillage, (mine) we demolish it.

Exhausted, we drop into the local shop for some pork mince to make meatballs for dinner, standing behind us is another English couple, I’d have introduced myself normally, but am so tired, I just pay and go. Yet another day of hard graft is coming to an end.

Dinner over, Thimble is given some pork, and a gin and tonic is poured,(for me not the kitten) I sit back as Heaven 17 play ‘I’m Your Money’, Saluté questa sera.

Friday 15 April 2011 – The morning is dull, there’s been an attempt at rain, but nothing yet. We spend the morning in Lanciano, then do some shopping for the evenings dinner at Oasi, before dropping in to see Terry and Brenda, we have a cup of tea and a pleasant afternoon chatting. We really will miss them when they move to the USA, but people must make decisions that are right for them, just as it’s right for us to move to Italy, it’s equally right for our friends to move to the US, besides there’s always Facebook and Skype. Talking about the social networking site, I saw a T-shirt in Lanciano that made me smile, the shop window was packed full of ‘Family Guy’ merchandise, which must be becoming popular in Italy at the moment.

Another sign that caught my eye today, made me wonder if this travel company only caters to a specialised type of client

Just before dinner I looked through the videos stored on my laptop and came across The Tempest, performed by the kids from The Action Project. I watched it and marvelled at their talent, however I did wonder if the parents understood my direction and setting, as to a newcomer to the text it could have proved confusing. After dinner I watched another video, this was an old episode of the army series, ‘Soldier Soldier’.

Saturday 16 April 2011 – Nancy Sinatra sings ‘It Aint Me Babe’ as I tuck into my breakfast, a bowl of Kellogg's crunchy nut cornflakes; found on the shelves of Oasi yesterday. Now I’m not normally a breakfast cereal sort of bloke due to a slight aversion to milk. However I’ve been having far too much bacon, cheese and eggs at breakfast time lately, so think it’s time for a change.

We have now acquired another kitten, each morning Thimble arrives with what we think is her brother, who we’ve called ‘Scratch’, he’s one of those cats that opens his mouth to mew, but no sound comes out.

We spend the day at a farmers market, a vast array of tractors and farm related machinery is on show. We stumble into the livestock section, and I fall for a tiny little puppy that’s in a box, near the chickens and ducks for sale. Inside a barn we find the section where farm produce is being sold, We all try the free samples of cheese and salami, I even get to try some awful truffle flavoured honey, that is just wrong, believe me.

For lunch we pop into Lanciano and have a self service ‘Pranzo’, pasta and wine for just €6 per person…..Bargain.

Back at our place I check on more kittens we’ve found, these are in a box in a tin shelter, there’s four of them. 2 white ones and 2 mackerel tabbies, I peer into the gloom and see the mother sat in the box nursing them.

 

Sunday 17 April 2011 – We just chill out.

The Disastrous Date, a Semi-Naked Man and the Phantom Lavatory

Tuesday 5 April 2011 – Sorry to begin with a moan this week, but what is it with cyclists. Today I am sat waiting at a red light, when a cyclist comes up my right hand side, and crosses straight into the traffic. He’s weaving in and out of the cars travelling through their green light opposite. Horns sound and the cyclist raises one finger in defiance. I have witnessed many cyclists that seem to either have no knowledge of, or just total disregard for the highway code. In my opinion, I think the law should be changed, and for cyclists that want to ride on the public highways, there should be some form of registration plate, and don’t get me started on the aspect of insurance………Breathe Barry.

Wednesday 6  April 2011 -  I am packing suitcases as Muse play ‘Guiding Light’: now I’m not a big Muse fan to be honest, I find they tend to drone on, however I did like their ‘The Renaissance’ album. There’s a knock at the door, which opens to reveal a suited male with a small boy. “Hello,” he says: the man that is not the boy; he looks miserable: That’s the boy not the man. “Would you like to join us to celebrate the death of our lord?” Now I am about to say, “Oh I didn’t know there was going to be a party, shall I bring along the trifle.” But I catch the words in my throat and say, “Celebrate? That’s an odd expression to couple with the word death.” The boy shifts his weight from his left foot to his right, however his expression remains unchanged. “Well?” asks the man. “No I don’t think so.” I say, and as soon as the last consonant of my response has sounded, a leaflet appears from nowhere in the boy’s hand and in perfect unison with the grown up, who says, “If you change your mind here’s some information,” the leaflet is pushed into my hand, and the boy; expression unfaltering says, “Thank you mister.” They leave and the final notes of ‘Guiding Light’ fade.

Thursday 7 April 2011 -  I’m wandering around the local supermarket ‘House in My Head’ by Sons and Daughters is playing on my iPod, when coming towards me I see a man. He’s of average height and build, with a pale complexion and the wiry trail of dark hair that snakes up past his belly button and explodes across his chest. Why do I have knowledge of him in such graphic detail? Because he’s walking briskly with shopping basket in the crook of his left arm, naked apart from a pair of red briefs. Behind him at a safe distance are two other men of similar ages, one holds a pair of jeans and t-shirt, the other a pair of socks and trainers. With nothing more than a snigger, the semi-naked man passes me. I watch the two walking in his wake, they are finding it difficult to contain their laughter. I just hope the bet was worth it.

Early evening we go out for dinner, nothing fancy, just a local pub carvery. I’m just starting my meal when a couple walk in, both early twenties, he’s tall, lanky and looks bored, she’s short, squat and looks down at her phone as her fingers flick across its surface writing a text like an over excited arachnid. They sit, he picks up a menu and she continues to send and receive texts. Several minutes pass, he’s now put the menu down and is looking up at the ceiling, checking for cobwebs maybe. She however is now talking on her phone, the conversation as animated as her fingers had been before. The one-sided dialogue I hear is peppered with expressions like like, ‘Nah, and ‘Shat app’. I begin to believe she’s seen to many episodes of the dreadful UK docu-soap-drivel, ‘The Only Way Is Essex'.’ The phonecall over, she puts her phone upon the table and picks up her menu, her boyfriend has moved his gaze from up to down, and is now studying his trainers. Suddenly loudly a telephone rings, it’s ringtone a tinny version of some generic R&B track. The menu goes down to the table and the phone goes up to the girls ear, ‘Nah, shat app.’ The boy now rises and walks away from the table. Several minutes pass, more texting and one more diatribe of fake Essex speak before the girl realises the boy isn’t coming back. She rises from her seat and walks through the diners, and with phone glued to her ear in a thick ‘Potteries’  accent she gives her boyfriend grief for walking away. Oh well, you can’t blame him.

Friday 08.04.2011 – Today is made up of all the last minute things that need to be done before we drive to Dover. Hazel O’Connor sings ‘That’s Life’, a lovely song about not changing a thing if you could live your life again. Life, what a strange thing it is, we are not really sure why we’re here and do we have any idea what our purpose for being here really is. As we shall be away for seventeen days, it seems a shame to waste the vase of spring flowers in the living room, so despite not really having the time to spare, I decide I’ll put them on a friends grave. I open the drawer where her details are kept, but cannot find the sheet which has the map and plot number on it; it always sits in this drawer, so where’s it gone? (I have to have the crematorium plan as it’s so large and is very confusing). I cannot find it, so have a quick conversation with my friend, wishing her well, and asking her to give me a sign she’s happy. The car is packed, sandwiches are made and some frozen items are stored for travel in the cool box. We are ready to leave, so I turn off the iPod dock, halting Jason Mraz with ‘O, Lover’. I point the electronic fob at the garage and the door silently closes, I put the fob back inside the drawer and close it, however the drawer will not close, something is preventing it. I try a couple of times, when I notice a piece of glossy paper sticking out from the underside, I pull the paper out and it’s the crematorium plan. I smile just as my partner comes home from getting a haircut, “Sorry I’m late,” he says, “The traffic was a nightmare, all the roads into town are full of congestion. How’ve you got on?” I look down at the map and say, “Okay, everything is okay.”

Now I’m not some God-bothering paid up member of the life after death brigade nor am I a total sceptic, but it was comfort for me to feel that somehow a good friend had been able to give me a sign she was happy. But like all things read into what you will.

Saturday 09.04.11 – The iPhone buzzes and rouses me from my sleep, it’s 03.10 and with the urgency of an elderly sloth I crawl from the Premier Inn bed and head for the tiny two cup kettle. We are just five minutes from the ferry terminal, so after showers, cups of tea, a short car ride and check in, we are finally ensconced in the DFDS Seaways ferry’s restaurant….. Will we never learn, cold eggs and bacon as per usual? However as we approach Dunkirk, the view of the day breaking is stunning.

We leave the ferry two hours later and are off on our seventeen hour road trip, we are heading towards Namur in Belgium, when the iPod adapter-radio-thingy (I’m not very tech minded), starts to play up and Lady Gaga begins to sound like she has musical Tourette's, as ‘Telephone’ flicks in and out of coherency. the signal keeps flickering and crackling, making it impossible to enjoy listening to the music. So a decision is made, and the iPod is switched off, and for the time being I no longer am living a life on shuffle.

The journey is very pleasant, with nothing of major importance happening to merit a mention here, France looks nice bathed in sunshine, even Switzerland, a country I’m not fond of is appealing to me this trip. However I am beginning to suffer from music withdrawal. I take some photo’s as we drive, but it’s hard to get good shots when there’s nowhere to stop. I do take a photo of an exit sign, just because when you say the word it sounds rude. (Immature I know, but makes me smile, as does the name of one tunnel we pass through. Belcher tunnel).

 

We cross the border into Italy, having made great time; stopping only briefly en route for a toilet break. We are now just 430 miles away from our destination. The satnav decides to take us a different way around Milano onto the A14, but we are not fazed. We trundle along, down the Italian autostrada until we are just over the Lombardia border when I notice a crack has appeared in the windscreen, it’s about three inches long, and we have no recollection of being struck by anything. We stop at an Autogrill, the Italian equivalent  of a motorway service station, albeit with edible food and not hiked prices.

After a bite to eat we continue on with the journey, by now we’ve been driving for fourteen hours and it’s beginning to take it’s toll. We pull into a rest stop for a break, only to discover we’ve stumbled onto a dogging/gay cruising area, cars pull up, men wander about, then disappear into the night. A car pulls up with a couple in the front seat, he gets out to stretch his legs, whilst she flicks the interior light switch a couple of times. I appears it’s also a dogging spot. A solitary police car appears, has a nosy around and leaves, that’s our cue to follow.

We continue to travel down the A14 south, until we come to Rimini nord, here the autostrada is closed for maintenance, so we are diverted via a toll booth. €2,60 later we are driving through the outskirts of Rimini, unaware of which direction we are travelling in. The satnav is no help as all it keeps trying to do is direct us back to the closed junction. Eventually we spot a car transporter, and making a guess that it too is travelling south we blindly follow it. Our assumption was a good one and pays off and soon we are back on track.

Eventually sleep begins to win the fight and we pull into a parking space on a service station, clamber into the back of the car: bringing that futon mattress proves to have been a good idea.

Sunday 10.04.11 – We wake on the service station, groggy but feeling the better for actually catching a couple of hours sleep. Italians mill about the forecourt, dressed in their Sunday best. (Church clothing). The aroma of coffee and sweet breakfast pastries sits on the idle breeze. It’s early in the day and the bright sunshine promises a warm one. An ancient man looks in at me through the rear window, puzzled as what looked like a pile of rags comes to life, I smile, he frowns, I can read his mind; ‘Stranieri’. I have an odd experience with a toilet that appears possessed, it was silent before I entered the cubicle, not now, it keeps flushing over and over and the cold water/testicle experience isn’t pleasant, but enough said of that.

The drive to Archi is pleasant, it’s like meeting an old friend, having stayed in Kati’s house once before, the familiarity is as warming as the sunshine that creeps along the narrow streets banishing shade. We unpack and the iPod is placed into it’s dock, ready to cure me of my music withdrawal. The first song to shuffle forward is ‘Divine’ by Blondie, what an apt title, it completely encompasses the setting and also the feel of the day. My phone beeps and it’s a text from Brenda inviting us over for lunch.

After freshening up, I turn off the iPod mid flow interrupting Siouxsie Sioux, as she sings ‘Further Nearer’ from the Creatures album Hai! I then drive down the steep gradients that make up the road back down to the valley, the fields are awash with borage, and wood smoke fragrances the air. We arrive at our friends laden with gifts and it’s great to see Terry and Brenda. We last saw them back in November 2010, and although only four months and a few days have passed, it seems to have been an age ago. This is partly due I think to the cold winter back in the UK, as both times we have been together have been in good weather. Lunch is Terry’s one-pot pork, a rustic dish of potatoes, vegetable and pork seasoned with bay, fennel and other natural dashes of goodness. We eat outside with the sounds of the valley all around us.

The sound of tyres on gravel indicates that our other friends Rozz and Spike have arrived, and after a few hours we are all sat around a table eating dinner. It’s strange to think how things come together, here on an Italian hillside is a group of people all from different towns and places: Manchester, Huddersfield, Melton Mowbray, Glasgow, Stoke on Trent, somehow the fates have conspired to bring us all here, at this time. But for what purpose, what is our part in the great scheme of things?

Later back at Archi, a game of dominos and a glass of wine is taken as ‘Necromancer’ by Gnarls Barkley plays, at a discreet volume. Very quickly it proves futile to fight it, and I climb the stairs and fall into bed.

Life can be perfect sometimes.

Incidents of Impish Japery

Monday 04 April 2011 -There are some songs that lift your mood, no matter how old they are and how many times you hear them. One of these songs for me is ‘The Cutter’ by Echo and the Bunnymen, it doesn’t matter how many times I hear it, it just transports me back to a place in time when I was genuinely happy. And today the song shuffled into play and so the day began well.

The past week has passed by quite slowly, but isn’t that usually the case when you’re counting days down to a holiday? Just six more and I’ll be en route to Italy…….Hurrah.

I had an odd experience whilst in our local Tesco last week, I bumped into four different people I knew, and all four were from a different decade and oddly enough it ran in chronological order; (not always a good thing for someone with OCD, as it just strengthens the belief in the oddities you live with.) The first person I met was an old school friend from my time in high school, (1970’s). The next person was someone who used to follow the band I used to sing with, (1980’s). The third person was an actor I had previously worked with, who is on tour at the moment and just passing through Stoke, (1990’s) The last person I met was one of the children I have previously had the pleasure of teaching drama, (2000’s)

I saw a news item recently where supermarkets said they have been experiencing incidents of shoppers rearranging their herbs and spices on the shelves to spell out rude(ish) words. So I thought I’d have a go at this impish japery, and so manipulated a few jars of herbs to spell what is pictured below.

I’m in town walking around and marvelling at the wonders that spring brings, I turn a corner and see a tree completely swathed in blossom. everywhere I seem to turn has evidence of life waking up from winters slumber. Daffodils dance in the breeze and crocus bob their purple heads. Springtime is made so much better by the move into British summer time.

My iPod shuffles, and as I walk into the city centre The B-52’s play ‘Give Me Back My Man’, a song that lyrically contains the wonderfully bonkers chorus:

I'll give you fish, I'll give you candy, I'll give you everything I have in my hand.

And the good news is that the band will this October celebrate their 35th year of being together. I’m glad that my iPod is playing an uplifting fun track as i stumble across another incident of impish japery. Someone has stuck a piece of paper over a local paint store’s sign to change it’s meaning.

As I get ready to post this draft to my blog, The Fears, a really good local band shuffle forward and ‘Memento’ bounces around my kitchen. For those who are interested here’s the link to their myspace page. http://www.myspace.com/thefearsband