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.