Homemade Haircuts and Anchovies

Thursday 23 July 2011 – I drive into Lanciano in the morning, hoping to find the kennels where Karen works, sadly I take a wrong turn somewhere and end up outside the Poly Centre Shopping Complex. Oh well as I’m here I nip inside and grab a few items from the supermarket, before heading back. I get chatting to a guy named Alessandro, and before long we’ve spent a couple of hours chatting and drinking coffee. I drive home with the iPod playing, Love Like Blood by Killing Joke.

There’s one disadvantage to having a haircut like mine: low Italian doorways. Because it spikes up so high every time I walk through a door it brushes it, like an automatic cobweb remover. So there’s nothing for it but to reduce the height, with scissors in hand I trim an inch or so off the top. One advantage of the style is that it’s suited to homemade haircuts.

I’m quite pleased because today I found a well known supermarket, that sells the most delicious green olives stuffed with anchovies, so I grab three cans, knowing one of them is going to be empty by the end of the day. How right I was, a DVD and a couple of glasses of wine later the empty can is dropped into the recycling.

One last song before bed, and Jessie J sings the acoustic version of her hit, Do It A Like Dude.

Casoli and the Trapped iPhone

Wednesday 22 June 2011- I eat my breakfast as Aussie band Operator Please play Other Song. It’s a real scorcher of a day and I decide to take a trip into Casoli to see if I can get an Italian sim card there. The drive is pleasant, as I wind my way up through the lanes. I don’t park near the school, like the last time I was here. There are cars parked outside, but the locals know they have to move them before the school buses arrive. I didn’t and it resulted in a parking ticket. I park a little higher up, then have to shimmy across to get out of the passenger door. The trials and tribulations of a right hand drive in a left hand country.

It’s very hot today, and this makes trudging uphill a chore. I stop and take in the view, it’s glorious.. A simple sign outside a butchers makes me smile, it’s succinct, yet conveys it’s message perfectly. Just two words, ‘oggi coniglio’, (today rabbit).

I spot a mobile phone shop, but continue my stroll in Casoli, and find the public swimming baths, here modern buildings are nestled alongside small patches of farmed land, I pass a patch of land with chickens scratching around in the dirt, and from the car park I see vegetables lovingly laid out in lines. The view up to the castle from here is breath taking on such a nice day. When it comes time to walk back to find the shop again, it’s all uphill.

At the shop the man behind the counter asks me if I’m English, I say yes and he tries out his grasp of the language. “Are you a good morning?”, I respond in the affirmative. “What is it you look for?” I explain that I want a sim card for my iPhone. He sucks his teeth then rummages through a drawer, his assistant tells him there’s only one card left. This leaves me to wonder why they’re so thin on the ground? Holding the card aloft he beams and comes back to the counter. “iPhone, (pronounced E-phone) é troppo caro.” (iPhone is very expensive).  He puts the card on the counter top and shows me the costs of the calls and texts. “No people many in village can afford these phones.” he says then asks me if mine is ‘trapped’? I assume by trapped he means locked, I tell him it’s not, and after filling in a form, having my drivers licence photocopied and my tax code noted, I’m ten euros lighter but with an Italian sim card in my pocket.

As the heat begins to diminish, I water my tomatoes and onions, before making my dinner. Isis, by Yeah Yeah Yeah’s plays and I make a basil and caper pasta sauce, which I have with pasta and chopped up spicy sausage. Looks like my cookery affliction has passed.

The Pointless Lesson

Tuesday 21 June 2011- It’s Italian lesson day again, so off I pootle to Castel Frentano to the library. Now we’re an odd group really, two Brits, one German, a couple from Uzbekistan and man from Bangladesh, who speaks perfect Italian, as he’s lived her for ten years, however he can’t read or write it.

As we wait for the teacher, an Australian woman, I walk around the library, I reach the children’s section, with it’s lurid green walls decorated by purple plastic flowers. I look out of the window and watch as two young boys kick a football about. I take a few more snaps as our teacher’s car arrives.

The lesson today concentrates on making a money transfer at the post office, so for two hours we are shown how to fill in certain forms, and how to transfer cash into an uncles account and how to ask for proof of posting etc. To be honest it’s a waste of time, as none of us will ever need to do any of these things. It makes me wonder how out of date is the teachers manual, as modern banking deals with these things efficiently without ever having to be present. Oh the joys of direct debit.

I come home and chat to my neighbour, she tells me she often hears me singing, I’m about to apologise when she says she likes to hear it, and I must be happy. I thank her and tell her that I am happy.

I cook my dinner singing along to My Heart Will Go On by Celine Dion. (Camp I know, but what can you do when you’re living a life on shuffle?)

The Camera Shy Butterfly

Monday 20 June 2011-  There’s a slight breeze this morning, so after breakfast I decide to fit new line to the strimmer, and attack the ever growing grass out front of our house. I take the cassette off the strimmer, and as River City People play All My Trials, I begin winding the new line on to the spool. Now the mistake I made was thinking, just how difficult can it be?

I wind the line on clockwise, it then springs away from me into a tangled mess. I wind it anti-clockwise, once again it jumps away from me. Once I have it wound on I try to feed the line on, but nothing happens, it’s never going to budge. I give up the fight as the line once again uncurls, resembling a mess in a spaghetti factory.

Fed up I walk back to where I’m staying, and am greeted by Baleno, the greedy moggy must want something to eat. I look up how to fit strimmer line, on YouTube. Luckily there’s a video demonstration by a round faced American man. I watch the video and take in everything he says, and return to the troublesome task. Ten minutes later it’s tamed and ready to be fitted back into the cassette. Sadly the breeze has gone, and now it’s far too hot to be cutting grass.

After lunch, I take a wander down the lane. On a flower I spot a big black and white butterfly, so out comes the iPhone and the camera selected. I’m about to take the photo when it flutters away and settles upon another flower. I creep up and am about to get the shot when It flies away again, only to settle on a cactus flower. Several more attempts are made, but success eludes me, the damn thing just doesn’t want to be photographed. So I plug the headphones into my phone and walk back with Hot Ride by the Prodigy playing.

Culinary Alzeimer's

Sunday 19 June 2011- It’s a scorcher today, early morning and the temperature is already 29 degrees. I eat breakfast on the balcony overlooking the garden, as Poly Styrene sings Virtual Boyfriend, from her 2011 album Generation Indigo: (Thanks to Lowri). I take the rubbish out to the comune bin and on my way back I stop to look at the walnuts on the tree outside Ada’s, they’re coming along nicely.

Before it gets too hot, I water the plants outside in pots, something I guess is a continuous practice over here. Ada’s cats watch me, always on the look out for a free feed. Heathcliffe and Whisper are very close and are always rubbing up against each other, Benny however is very much the outsider. I’m washing the breakfast dishes when I hear a mew at the front door, it’s Benny. I give the poor mite some ham, which I’ve chopped up into small pieces as he has doesn’t have many teeth..

I decide today is a day for just relaxing, so I sit outside with my book. However, quickly I tire of Bill Bryson and his plodding dialogue, so he’s discarded and put on the bookshelf between a Patterson and Grisham. I turn off the iPod, lock up and take a walk. I head off up the track, pass Domenico’s olive trees and the ruins hidden by the ever encroaching undergrowth. Butterflies of every size and colour flit from flower to flower, oblivious of me, as the crickets and grasshoppers buzz and click. poking their heads through a tangle of dried grass is, Arisaema triphyllum or as it’s commonly known Parson in the Pulpit it’s maturing seeds turning red.

When I get back home, Baleno is waiting at the gate, I give her some ham and she snoozes, safe behind the fence. As she sleeps I prepare my lunch; a ham salad. I’m halfway through my meal when it strikes me that something is missing, yes I’ve forgotten to put the tomato in the salad bowl: What’s going on, first the pizza now the salad, have I developed culinary Alzheimer's disease?

The afternoon passes by slowly, music shuffles and I mooch about just relaxing. I get a call on Skype from my parents; my mother is a little perplexed by the technology. I take another stroll, this time down to the bottom of the lane, I pass the house where Rosa, la strega della borgo: (the witch of the village) lives, outside is a flowering mimosa tree, it’s fluffy pink tufts looking as delicate as spun sugar.

I continue on to the bend in the lane where there’s three crosses made in concrete, maybe it’s a war memorial? I don’t know, it’s old and there’s a space where maybe years ago there was a plaque, however now it stands lonely and forgotten.

I walk back, open a bottle of chilled prosecco, and prepare dinner. The potatoes are roasting and the veg is ready when suddenly I jump up from my chair and shout, “Bugger, the chicken.” Now before anyone complains, this isn’t an ancient rural pastime: look at where I’ve placed the comma. I’ve forgotten to put the chicken into the oven. Looks like I do have a case of culinary Alzheimer's after all.

Ants and the Upside Down Pizza

Saturday 18 June 2011 - When you live in rural Italy you must expect to share your space with the critters that live there too. I do my best to co-exist, and when they enter my living space; whether they’re grasshoppers, scorpions or spiders, I’ll always remove them and pop them back outside. However today I have no option but to exterminate. I spot a couple of ants wandering across the floor, now these are not the tiny little ones found in the UK, but big fat buggers around 0.5 cm long. There’s even more walking down the walls, so I look up and there’s literally hundreds walking along a beam in the roof. They all seem to be concentrated on one section of the beam, so out comes the ant powder. A quick squirt and they leave pronto. those trapped get crushed under foot: they’re so big it’s like squashing blackberries.

I pop down to Euronics to get a micro sim for my iPhone, as the man behind the counter said on Wednesday, they’ll have new stock in today. Today it’s a different man and he says they wont have any for two weeks, so I guess it’ll be trip into Casoli next week to get one. On the way back I’m spotted by Baleno, and she runs up to see me. Baleno, meaning lightning is a little cat, that’s obviously pregnant, but so thin it’s a wonder she’s alive. She’s very vocal and I give her something to eat and contented she has a snooze under a patio chair. (She has a ginger flash on her head hence the name).

I don’t know where the days go to just lately, one minute I’m looking at the clock and it says 12.00, the next time I look it’s 18.30. So it’s time to consider dinner. The Humans play, This Belongs To You, the 1,415th song to shuffle since I moved here. I decide on pizza, and set about chopping ingredients for the topping. It’s only when I’ve assembled it that I realise I forgot the cheese, so the cheese gets added onto the top. Okay it’s upside down but hopefully it’ll taste good.

Before:

After:  

And yes it tasted fabulous.

Naming Cats and Passeggiate

Friday 17 June 2011 – Sugar Hiccup by the Cocteau Twins plays; a perfect song for early morning as I enjoy breakfast, whilst looking out over the valley. Ada, next door has a passion flower, that is entwined along the fence and into an olive tree, its yellowish foliage standing out against the olive’s silver and green.

There’s a lovely breeze blowing, so I decide to plant my onions: Now it may be late, but I did start them off in plastic cups back in the UK. I clear the ground and plant them in rows besides Terry’s beautiful vermillion coloured dahlias. The breeze disappears and I’m thankful I completed the planting before it did.

Two of Ada’s cats come over to watch me, hopeful of a titbit to eat no doubt. Her cats don’t have names as they’re semi feral, but I have named them. The friendly cream coloured one one, I’ve called Whisper, there’s one that looks just like Benny the Ball, from the cartoon Top Cat, so he was easy to name, and the disagreeable one I’ve called Heathcliff, after Emily Brontë's anti-hero, and the name suits him so well.

"It would degrade me to marry Heathcliff now; so he shall never know how I love him: and that, not because he's handsome, Nelly, but because he's more myself than I am. Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same.” Wuthering Heights. Emily Brontë.

Onions planted and puddled in, I turn my attention to weeding outside the downstairs apartment. As I uproot the unwanted vegetation, Despair by Japan plays. This morose, mostly repetitive song suits the stillness of the morning, David Sylvian’s vocal, (in French) is accompanied by the buzzing of bees and whirring of scarab beetles.I particularly like this song because of Mick Karn’s haunting saxophone in the background.

I lift a weed and I’m accosted by a grumpy little scorpion, unhappy to be out of the shadows, I begin to feel the same. It’s nearly mid-day, and without the breeze the heat from the sun is becoming too much. the temperature is beginning to hit 30 degrees, so I decide to have a break in the shade.

Benny, (Who has very few teeth)

It’s Friday, so it’s Italian lessons in Castel Frentano, then after a few drinks with my new friend Alessio. We partake of the passeggiate on the promenade at Vasto. It’s an Italian custom at around 9pm to stroll and chat. We laugh as neither of our cultural senses of humour are understood, as joke never seem to translate well. We have a pleasant evening, Alessio is easy to get on with, and is good company.

Three Things

Thursday 16 June 2011 – I wake up feeling awful, I only had one beer yesterday, yet feel like I’ve had a skin-full. Corn flakes soon put an end to my malaise. New Zealand duo, The Brunettes sing If You Were Alien, from their musically stripped down album Structure and Cosmetics .

I climb into my car, which for some reason today, believes itself to be usicallyan oven. I drive the dirt track way to the shops, twisting and turning on a track just wide enough for one vehicle. (Believe me, it can be a stand off situation if you meet anyone coming the other way). I pull up outside of the bank and relish the cool air in the air-conditioned Bancomat cash machine area. I punch in the code and it process my request for €50. No money appears but it spits my card out. I re-do the whole transaction, exactly as before and am rewarded with a crisp €50 note. Did it rip me off, am I €50 down or what? I’ll have to wait at least 24 hours to check online, by then it’ll be too late to complain. BUMMER.

I pop into Euronics to ask for a micro sim for my iPhone, they don’t have any, “Come Saturday back.” the assistant tells me. I nip into Eurospin and do a ‘big shop’ before driving back. I’m half way home when I think to myself, what I be doing today if I was in the UK? I came up with these three things:

1. I wouldn’t be driving up a steep snaking dirt track to get home.

2. I would be surprised to see a neighbour has a big fat sheep in their front garden, here it’s par for the course.

3. I’d not be coming home from Tesco and thinking how come I did a ‘big shop’ and it only came to €25.63.

Adam and the Ants play Press Darlings, and I finish of the ironing, I packed my washed clothes un-ironed and so they needed to be pressed and hung up. I even washed our working clothes and pressed them, no one wants to see a scruffy peasant as they tend to their land.

As the heat of the day wanes, I water my tomato plants, chat to my neighbour and round the day off with another couple of episodes of Rab C Nesbitt. I like not having the distraction of the TV at the moment. Back in the UK there was always something to watch, which meant I didn’t catch up with DVD’s very often. I never saw the complete series of Rab, so am enjoying catching up with it. (The 1980’s clothes are a hoot too).

No doubt my feelings about the lack of English speaking TV will change as time goes by.

Officially Gay

Wednesday 15 June 2011 – It’s a scorcher today, at 08.20 it feels too warm to venture out into the garden. Jet by Wings plays, as I catch up on some e mails over breakfast. The treatment has worked and my hearing is back to normal. I take my blood pressure and the reading is normal, as i turn around I jump out of my skin, (blood pressure up) sat on top of my iPod in its dock is another grasshopper. I grab my camera just as it jumps onto my video camera and starts to walk off. Photo snapped and it’s taken outside.

I have another heart stopping moment later in the day. I wander down to the bottom of the garden where I planted my tomato plants. I look up, and sat in an olive tree with a malevolent grin on it’s face, is one of Ada’s cats. It’s the biggest tom, which possesses a spiteful nature; a personality that matches its disagreeable visage.

After dinner I venture out, I drive along the coast road to Pescara. I pull up and take a stroll along the beach, there’s an eclipse tonight which should make the moon appear reddish in colour. I look up and our natural satellite has an orange hue. I find a gay venue I’d read about previously and decide to pay it a visit to enquire about obtaining a Arcigay card.

The Arcigay card is a membership card that allows you entry to all gay venues in Italy, as unlike the UK you can’t just walk in, as they are all member only clubs. As usual I have to provide documents to prove who I am, (this is Italy after all) I sign in triplicate and get given my plastic card. €15 per year to discover, to coin a phrase “I’m not the only gay in the village.”

Hey, What, Pardon?

Tuesday 14 June 2011 – I wake later than usual, it’s 07.40 and before I get up I lie there for a while listening to the sound of birds. As the kettle boils I open the doors, a warm zephyr enters the living room and Toyah finishes exploding.

I’ve woken up deaf in my left ear: well to be honest it’s self inflicted. How many times are we told not to stick things into our ears? I decided upon finding some cotton buds to clean mine, and have managed to push wax deeper. With music muffled on one side of my head, I try the old ‘olive oil’ treatment. Ten minutes later and there’s no improvement, just a peppery odour to the left side of my head.

I decide to pop to the chemist for a remedy. I’ve practiced saying, “Avete, gocce per l’orechio per cerume?” As I drive away my neighbour waves, I stop to tell her of my plight, “Almond oil.” she says. I park up and walk the few steps to the Farmacia, only to find it closed. Lesson learned: Remember this is Italy not England and the shops close in the afternoon and re-open in the evening.

I drive back only to be met by two more grasshoppers, these two, (Vic and Bob) are climbing over the gate. As I open the gate Vic gets a bit testy and rises up and wiggles his antennae at me. I leave them behind to do whatever it is grasshoppers do – probably hop in grass, and plant my tomato plants out. It’ll be interesting to go through a growing season in another country.

Tuesday evening brings Italian lessons, these are followed by a trip to the chemist in Castel Frentano, where I am served by a very handsome young man, as I leave with my ear wax remedy, I’m already wondering if it would be ethical to dream up new illnesses each week just  to be served by him?

I wind down in the evening with a couple of G&T’s and a few episodes of Rab C Nesbitt on DVD.

Grasshoppers Galore

Monday 13 June 2011 - I knew today wouldn’t go well when I stubbed my toe for the third time, on the same chair. How the danger of toe injury increases when you’re in a climate that promotes barefoot traffic. I get a call from back home, my other half has had a crash on the way into work, he say’s he’s fine but the car is a mess. Thankfully no one else is involved.

Terence Trent Darby sings Do You Love Me Like You Say?  What happened to him, didn’t he go a bit potty? There’s a commotion in the lane, I look outside to see a tractor with what looks like a giant vertical lawn-mower attached. It moves slowly trimming the undergrowth on both sides of the lane. A man walks behind it with a fork unsuccessfully removing any debris left in its wake. They decimate the flowering cacti that only days before I photographed, it seems such a waste, they don’t pose a risk to passing traffic. Giuseppina is walking up the lane, surprisingly it’s 29 degrees and she’s wearing a cardigan. I show her the mess left behind and she shrugs and says, “It’s only leaves, the wind will clear them.” It’ll take time for my attitude to change from British to Italian, before then I’ll get a brush and sweep them up.

Before:

After:

I seem to be attracting grasshoppers of every variety just lately, there was an odd looking one on the mosquito screen in our kitchen, and now as I’m about to turn in for the night there’s one in the bathroom. I evict the unwanted guest, and switch off the iPod mid song. Toyah is singing, I Explode. (Sorry Ms Willcox, the explosion will have to go on hold until tomorrow).

Buon Viaggio

Sunday 12 June 2011 – I wake early and decide to take advantage of the coolness of the morning. I decide to do some work on the house before the day warms up. I plug in the iPod and music fills the little kitchen, My Chemical Romance sing Blood. I remove the rubble from the weeks earlier demolition of the fireplace, and turn my attention to the hearth. It’s concrete and takes many whacks of the hammer to break it up. I’m finished both in energy and in purpose, as Terry arrives to tell me he’s ready to leave.

I help Terry load up the car and it’s with a heavy heart I watch him and Brenda drive away. They’ve lived in their house for seven years and today they leave it, destined for a new life in the USA. Buon viaggio amici.

I go downstairs to the apartment and begin to fetch my belongings upstairs. Brenda calls me to say they’ve left their laptop. We arrange to meet at the toll at Val di Sangro. I drive along the lanes, the Berlingo bouncing on the uneven roads. We meet and the exchange is done, and with Hersham Boys by Sham 69 playing I pootle along: There’s no need to drive fast, speed defeats the pace of life here in Abruzzo.

After dinner I have another slice of my special cake, and a glass of wine, and as the evening draws in I sit and look out over the valley.

Blog Changes From Sunday 19 June 2011

I’ve had a few messages from regular readers saying they like my blog, but find a whole week a lot to digest. So is it possible to upload daily bite-size chunks? So from Sunday the ‘Life On Shuffle’ will be as daily as I can possibly muster. (Maybe then my reader in NYC wont spend too much time reading about my exploits in one session and getting behind in her work.) As previous it’ll still be a week behind the posting date. Until then here’s a photo of one of my constant companions. Baz

Tomato Plants, Top Tens and Home

Monday 6 June 2011 - I spend the first part of the morning cleaning up after yesterday’s party, then start my packing in readiness for my departure from the UK. As I’m going alone, as my other half has things to tie up here, all I take is some things for the house and clothing. We’ll do a final pack when we have to ship the remainder of our possessions over. I leave Stoke on Trent at 21.30, Fill up with petrol at Tesco, turn on the iPod and Some Of Your Lovin’ by Dusty Springfield plays, the first song of my new life- slash- adventure.

It’s an odd feeling leaving your partner behind as you set off for another country. I’m used to doing this as an actor, as I’ve toured internationally. This time however I don’t have the company of other actors to distract me. I know I must do this, it’s our dream, and it makes sense for me to work on the house out in Italy, rather than sit at home in the UK doing very little. This said, it still doesn’t stop me fighting that knot in my guts that wants me to turn back.

The drive south is mundane, and just under four hours later I pull into the 24 hour services just outside Dover, (despite the name, they are only open for 22 hours per day.) I catch an hours sleep in the car park then drive the last few miles to the port.

Tuesday 7 June 2011 - I drive through border control unchecked, and check in with a brunette complete with cheery disposition despite the hour. I then line up with all the other cars waiting. I’m surprised by the amount of ancient vehicles, my own being a battered X registered one. K’s and R’s sit comfortable alongside S’s and the occasional 51 plate.

At 03.23 it’s 14 degrees and I watch as the information board tells me that on the previous day 57,307 people passed through the port of Dover; the busiest port in Europe, apparently.

After boarding, I find a corner and desperate for sleep I curl up on a sofa. Thankfully this early morning crossing is under prescribed, meaning everyone seems to find somewhere to relax. I have an hour of constantly disturbed sleep. I’m woken by the barista at the coffee bar, who is unable to make a beverage without the maximum amount of noise. A woman sleeping nearby lets out an impressive fart, much to the amusement of the young boy with her. I decide to walk around, I notice the man beside me has an unfortunate tenting effect in his jogging bottoms, I smile, hoping he’s enjoying the dream. I get a coffee and walk out on deck. The sea is as grey as the sky, making the division between the two indiscernible. At this early hour it’s almost as if the world is devoid of any colour.

The coffee is hot, that’s all than be said about it, it’s bitter and devoid of any enjoyment, but as I drain the last dreg and toss the paper cup into a waste bin, we are about to dock at Dunkerque.

I plug in my iPod, tune it into a free signal and press play, Haysi Fantayzee burst out with their ludicrously upbeat oddity, John Wayne Is Big Leggy. I sing along as I disembark and head off into the French countryside. The drive is tedious, to say the least. As I leave Belgium and enter Luxembourg, the iPod/radio connection becomes jangled with the vast amount of stations here, making it impossible to enjoy the music. I stop in Luxembourg and in a rest spot have a bite to eat, I have my first bite of my special cake overseas. (thank you to who ever came up with the invention of the cool-box). Cake consumed and I partake of 40 minutes snoozing in the back of the car. In the foot well there’s my tomato plants and my onion’s, and the warmth mixed with the scent of the plants conjures up an image of sleeping in a potting shed.

After passing Metz, I find myself making lists in my head to divert my attention from the brain crushing boredom. I start off listing my top ten songs:

	Song	Artist/Band
1	You Make Me Feel (Mighty Real)	Sylvester
2	Neon Womb	Toyah
3	The Day the World Turned Day-Glo	X-Ray Spex
4	Lagartija Nick	Bauhaus
5	Under the Ivy	Kate Bush
6	Il Tempo Stesso	Tiziano Ferro
7	Playground Twist	Siouxsie and the Banshees
8	Donne In Amore	Gianna Nannini
9	Top of the Wheel	Hazel O’Connor
10	Stronger	Sugababes

As the journey continues the lists become more and more banal and after listing my top ten names for a dog, I give up halfway through my top ten green vegetables and stop for another 30 minutes of shut-eye. (For the curious the top veg was broad beans)

I enter Switzerland, (regular blog readers will already know my feelings for this country), and after passing through the Gotthard Tunnel I look for somewhere to stop for the night. I continue on and just minutes from the border I spot a lorry park. I pull in and squeeze the Berlingo into a space between two goliaths of the road, and crawl into the back. I plan to have a glass of red wine, but after checking out the shower facilities I’m too tired. I’m falling asleep, when a car pulls into the park and windows open a young couple have an argument, gradually his voice is getting louder, like a vocal incendiary, I’m wondering when the explosion will occur, suddenly the engine guns and they drive away; altercation obviously resolved.

At 22.40, with the funk of tomato in the air, my eyes begin to close and before I know it the world outside has dissolved.

Wednesday 8 June 2011 – I wake up at 06.15, untangle my twisted body, reposition my aching frame and sleep again. I wake the second time at 07.20. I look around and I’m alone, every lorry has silently slipped away, leaving one blue Citroen stranded upon a grid of white lines. I walk over to the showers only to find the automatic doors wont open, there’s a sign saying the free showers can only be used between the hours of 04.00 and 07.00. I try the toilet door and with a swoosh it opens, I press a button to dispense lavatory paper, but none appears, just the whirring sound of a motor. Yet another, although illogical reason to dislike the country.

I drive a few metres to a service station, only to find the showers are being cleaned, so it’s a trip to the loo and a quick wash. I exit and as I’m crossing the car park there’s a loud crack followed by the smell of electricity; I get my shower in the end, albeit courtesy of Mother Nature.

I’m waved over the border and emerge through the mist into Italy, as before it’s tedious heading south alone, the most exciting occurrences being the change in weather conditions. Lombardia has drizzle, Emilia Romagna has sunshine and Marche has the most dramatic thunderstorm I have ever witnessed.

I am driving down the autostrada (A14) when a sheet of water hits the car, the rain is so heavy all three lanes stop, and the motorway is at a standstill, the only things visible are the orange blinks of numerous hazard lights, as they flash on stationary vehicles. I can see the sea and am privy to a spettacolare naturale. The sea is being attacked by rods of glowing yellow, the surface is penetrated by lightning as it crackles and hisses it’s way to earth. The rain eases and we move away en massé, I watch as cars ahead of me move erratically, dodging the lightning that is coming down onto the road surface.

I sail past the Marche sign with the red line through it, and into Abruzzo, the sun is shining and I stop at Le Siren Ovest, (the mermaid west, rest area) and stretch my legs, pee and continue on my way. I leave the motorway at Val di Sangro, take the first exit off the strada statale and once on the country road that runs parallel I feel like I’ve come home.

I check on the house, all is fine, no signs of rodents, rain or robbers. To clear the stench of rodents months ago we used a strong smelling alcohol cleaner, still months on it lingers in the air, like stale tobacco on a seldom worn evening gown. I open the windows to let some Abruzzi air in and drop in to see my friends Terry and Brenda. A cup of tea later I go to unpack the car, my neighbour Domenico has been over to cut his grass, coincidence? Maybe he doesn’t want the stranieri to make a complaint again?

I make a few phone calls to let people know I’ve arrived safely, down the glass of red wine I promised myself in Switzerland, have dinner with my friends, shower, put my new watch beside my bed and finally collapse onto the mattress: my back is grateful. With a slight hint of potting shed still clutching to me I give in to slumber.

Thursday 9 June 2011 – Today is the first real day in my little part of Italy and to celebrate I wake up with four mosquito bites. First lesson learned: Don’t stand early evening, outside in the long grass calling people in the UK without any protection from the little critters. I spray myself liberally with enough anti insect repellent to fell a swarm off African bees mid flight, and walk the few metres to our house.

I begin by mixing some weed killer so that I can see what lurks beneath the mass of weeds that is our land. I spray three areas and at 11.00 the day is getting too hot to be outside without shade. So with the iPod shuffling as usual, I turn my attention to the huge fireplace in our kitchen, as ironically The Prodigy unleash Firestarter.

We love the fireplace but it’s impractical, taking up so much room. When the wood burner is fitted we can use the space for two chairs. I have been advised by Spike that it should come down easily, so armed with hammer and chisel I begin to dismantle it. I discover a secret shelf plastered over and filled by a block of polystyrene. A few more chips and I’m level with the mantelpiece. A quick swipe of my hammer to the side reveals the supporting beam and it looks safe to remove the remains of the white plastered fireplace.

I stand back pleased with my handiwork, the kitchen smells of soot and fires past extinguished, and the hearth is littered with rubble. The black hole is photographed and uploaded onto Facebook, and I retreat for lunch. This being Italy, lunch becomes a three hour affair of food, conversation and respite from the sun.

Friday 10 June 2011 – I’m just about to get petrol but have a dilemma. Should I take the track down the hill or the better road? I decide on the easier option and am halfway down the road when I meet someone I’ve met briefly before. We chat and she asks me if I’m interested in free Italian lessons for foreigners? Yes I say and make arrangements to pop along. (Just a few days in and I’m getting a social life already.)

I pop along as promised and have an enjoyable two hours, lessons over I partake of a glass of wine with Sheila, a fellow classmate, at her place. The view from every window in her house is spectacular, her property is perched high enough up to give you the opportunity to look down on middle Italy literally for many, many kilometres. I quite like the fact that I’m out and about as part of a community: long may it last. (Well at least for the next six weeks until the free lessons end.) I drive home and Joan Armatrading sings Willow – Perfetto

Saturday 11 June 2011 – I wake up ridiculously early today, 05.50, I try to snooze but to no avail my brain is churning. I make myself a cup of tea, clamber back beneath the sheets and read a couple of chapters of Bill Bryson’s, Neither Here Nor There. To be honest I’ve only read one of his books before and didn’t really like his style, his dialogue is full of negatives, his jokes are instantly stale and his metaphors are jaded. However I got the book at an Italian book swap, and as it’s the only one I have I’ll persevere; my opinions remain the same though.

I make myself breakfast, and make a discovery about myself: not that I’m a member of the estranged Albanian aristocracy, but that the reason I get indigestion every morning is because I always eat breakfast stood up and pacing up and down. I sit down and Boy George sings Out Of Fashion, a song I assume to be mostly autobiographical.

I prepare some salad and a pasta sauce for later, before helping ship furniture down to the main road for Terry and Brenda, onto the removal lorry, as there’s no way it would ever make it up our lane. The removals complete I come back with a possible offer of some work teaching drama in September, and a desire for some fizz. The cork pops and I pour a large glass, before starting to prepare dinner.

Dinner is bavette (a kind of flat spaghetti) with pasta sauce and the most gorgeous meaty sausages from the shop down the road, tied up with little pieces of string. After my small feast I sit outside and read – it’s past 19.00 and the temperature is pleasant. There’s a hint of jasmine floating on the air, the full effect of this heady perfume won’t emerge until darkness falls. – I try to read but am distracted by the view, I put my book down and look out over the valley, and up at the mountains opposite. I can’t believe I own this view, and if I told you how much It cost you’d think me a liar.

I chat to my neighbour Adda, she checks she has my telephone number written down correctly, at 93 she needs to feel secure. Despite our close proximity to many amenities, in the evening our little hamlet becomes quite remote. I finish off the fizz and settle down to watch a DVD on my laptop before once again, earlier than when back in England I feel the hands of sleep holding my head, and retire for the evening.

So I come to the end of another week, and the end of the first few days of my new life. So much has happened in such a short space of time, I look forward to next week with the anticipation of a ten year old on the eve of its eleventh year.

This posting is dedicated to Terry and Brenda, with love for a happy and healthy new life in the US. In bocca al lupo.

Cirka Non Prata & Arrivederci Barry

It’s been a couple of weeks since I updated my blog, I had got a posting to publish full of random pieces of chat, but as it was out of date decided not to post it. So here we are up to date with a new week.

Monday 30 May – Friday 3 June 2011

Half term arrives and once again The Action Project pops it’s head above the battlements. This week Rachel and myself are staging a travelling circus. The show is a ensemble piece designed to teach the children how to interact with an audience and work on a traverse staging. The theme is melodrama, so we’ll also be making our own silent movies, using larger than normal expressions to move the storyline along.

Cirka No Prata, (the circus of the mind) is meant to be a feared group of Latvian circus folk that visit villages and perform dark and dreadful routines to afraid villagers, who believe it bad luck to not watch the show. The audience on Friday evening shall be our villagers, and the group shall terrorise them accordingly.

The week starts well, the students get an idea of what the show is, however cannot get a grip on the concept of ensemble, and keep asking who the lead character is. Giorgia surprises us with her confidence, it’s great to see how far she has come from the quiet girl that didn’t want to be noticed, to become the self-assured young lady who single handed is strong enough to perform the rap from Plan B’s song She Said alone. All this on a Monday morning at 09.30 with no warm up.

The week progresses as usual, changes are made to the running order and the script. The silent movies are devised, Lowri is filming a homage to Mary Pickford, and her film The Hat. We’re bringing it up to date and the object of the characters desire is a stuffed bear. Luca has devised his own story, ghostly tale with a lingering question, I’ve written a traditional poker game goes wrong scenario, and Ewan wants a custard pie in the face.

Facebook link to movies is here: http://www.facebook.com/bezbaz#!/video/video.php?v=10150193314377187

Thursday sees us move into the new performance venue, where we discover the stage isn’t big enough for the end dance routine. Earlier in the week Nicki had spent a day choreographing the opening and closing dance routines, she also kindly devised an intricate pop and lock routine for the mime in the show.We faff about over the staging and eventually come up with a new way to put on the show, still in traverse but with the some portions of it staged on the floor, this couple with the stairs at the back giving us three different performance levels.

Another change is made, it becomes decided that I shall be the circus ring master and introduce the acts; as I don’t want to introduce every one my appearances are trimmed down to just five.

Friday and the show goes really well, the performers freak out the front row of the audience by getting very close and sneering at them during Sally’s solo; a piano version of Lady Gaga’s, Dance In The Dark. Sam (Pash) portrays the sarcastic magician, with gusto and Lowri, as Danjie, the storyteller keeps her audience in check with her barbed tongue. I enjoy my pieces of narration, particularly the odd Latvian phrases; (Even if my accent at times seems to slip from eastern European to west German.)

The finale begins with a group mime, influenced by the French school, it’s performed to Fabri Fibra, an Italian rap artist’s song, VIP In Trip. Rhiannon and Giorgia set the standard high, and each performer that joins the routine match it, Sally hits the high notes in On My Own, from Les Miserables, before the final dance routine to We Are by Toyah explodes.

It’s been a gamble, not performing a known story or at least anything with a linear plot, but everyone has enjoyed it, especially the cast. Oddly enough the piece they liked performing the most was the mime, despite it’s intricacies and rigid performance rules. This said, it was very entertaining, and my favourite part of the show too.

I drive home happy and proud of them all. I know when I move away I shall miss them all, I’m thinking about this as I drive home, just then iPod shuffles and Donne In Amore; my favourite Italian song comes on, maybe it’s a sign that all will be well with the move abroad.

Sunday 5 June 2011 – In readiness for my leaving the UK for a new life in Italy, I had a party. Just close friends, family and some of the parents and students from The Action Project were there.

I spent around seven hours doing prep in the kitchen for the day on the Saturday, and rose early on the Sunday to bake bread, (2 loaves, a sundried tomato and an olive and lemon one.) The morning was taken up making stuffed mushrooms and antipasti, the most time consuming being garlic and anchovy stuffed cherry tomatoes and deconstructed Caprese salad bites, which is a hollowed out cherry tomato, stuffed with mozzarella and a basil leaf and a drizzle of extra virgin olive oil, (Italian of course).

At 1.00 my mate Dave arrived and gave me a hand setting up the barbecue, in case folks weren’t keen on Italian food, and he set out the chairs in the garden. I made up a jug of Pimms, using the innovative jug we got at Ikea recently, it has a central tube that you put in the freezer, and it fits inside to chill your drink without diluting it, (not a bad buy for £1.50.) So menu complete, people begin arriving with bottles of prosecco etc.

The antipasti is devoured and the mains are ready to arrive, a two meat lasagne, a vegetarian cannelloni, asparagus and gorgonzola gnocchi, porchetta, beef in Barolo and chicken caciatore, all served with Italian style vegetable accompaniments.

The day goes really well, I get given lots of cards and some gifts. Daniel gives me a watch similar to the one’s that he wears. I don’t wear a watch so all the previous week I’ve borrowed one of his, (incidentally he has many colours to co-ordinate each day.) Mine is white with a pink face, and I’m really pleased with it. Lowri gives me the best gift to give me, pink balloons that light up and an iTunes gift card. Methinks the new Poly Styrene album will be on my iPod within days. All of my cards are really nice, and one of the students has written in hers the following: “You’ve been the biggest inspiration to me.” Another reads: “You made me the confident person I am now, thank you for being a good friend.” When you hear things like that it makes all the hard work worthwhile, but what really touches is the word, ‘friend’ rather than ‘teacher’.

There’s a commotion outside and Alison arrives with an assortment of cakes she’s made for the day, within minutes the children are on the chocolate one, parents dive into the strawberry mousse cake, and the carrot cake lasts literally seconds. The centre-piece is an amazing cake she has made for me. The cake resembles a table complete with tablecloth, on it are grapes, a pizza and a bowl of spaghetti with meatballs, all made from sponge and icing. There’s two small Italian flags on the front and in between the words Arrivederci Barry are written. For a rare moment I’m lost for words.

All in all, the day goes really well. Everyone seems to have enjoyed themselves, all that’s left to do is sort the recycling and wash the mound of dishes in the corner…….Hang on, I’ll open another bottle of prosecco, the washing up can wait.