My dear blogsters, and regular readers of A Life On Shuffle. Due to a heavy workload of writing I shall be taking a brief break from updating this blog, sadly I’ll not be able to write daily updates for the next two weeks, but I shall be back with a review of what has happened in my online absence. And if I get my work completed early I'll be back sooner than predicted.
Vediamo presto…………..Flatfield
Domenica 10 luglio 2011 – For anyone who’s noticed all this past week the dates have been written in Italian, however I do feel I need to point out that Italians don’t capitalise months, hence luglio (July) being lower case.
Being 49 years old and seven months to this very date, there are some lessons I have learned: Things like, never take a pan of roast potatoes out of the oven without an oven glove, or even if it sounds like a good idea, don’t down a whole bottle of absinthe in a pub in Motherwell. (Not unless you want to wake up with many unanswerable questions racing through your head). So I travel through life armed with this veritable encyclopaedia of learned knowledge that will keep me safe, or out of harms way at least.
Add to this the common sense that we are supposed to posses, that needs no intervention of action to become a part of our daily remit: Things like you know it’s going to hurt if you leap off a multi-storey car park in Dagenham. Or that it would be unwise to try roller skating with scissors in your hands. You don’t need to experience these things you just know the concept of doing them is loopy.
So today, I’m in the kitchen, the trusty iPod is doing it’s job nicely, Liz McClarnon sings Woman In Love (Dancing DJ’s Remix). The bass is thumping and the hi hats splashing and I’m singing along. I’m about to make myself a poached egg as the kettle boils, so as I’m still dressed in night attire: PJ bottoms, I slip said egg into my pocket as I pour the boiling water over a tea-bag. I carry on singing along, and ponder how the lovely Ms McClarnon is getting on touring the UK with the musical Legally Blonde. I do like her, she was always my favourite ‘Kitten’. She has a clarity to her voice that’s very rare, and her diction when she sings is superb; listen to her sing Someone Like Me, the final track on the third Atomic Kitten album Ladies Night, and you’ll hear what I mean, the vocals are crystal clear; I think there’s only ever really been one other singer with such clarity and that was the late Karen Carpenter.
The water in the pan is boiling, I pick an egg out of the dish; here’s a tip for you all, – never store eggs in the fridge, it taints the flavour, chilled egg holders were invented by fridge manufacturers, – but I digress. The egg slips from its opened shell and plops into the water. Toast pops up and is buttered, the egg nicely poached is lifted from the water, and popped onto the toast, just a pinch of salt, and a stab at the yolk has its golden insides running. I walk to the table, sit down and you can guess the rest.
Suffice to say, my encyclopaedia of life has a new entry, filed under E for egg, and cross referenced with, M for McClarnon: It reads: don’t put eggs in your PJ’s, whilst distracted by Liz McClarnon.
Sabato 9 luglio 2011 – Breakfast dishes are washed up, Janet Jackson sings Love Will Never Do (Without You) and I ponder what the day will bring. As forecast, the heat really has turned up, it’s far too hot to be toiling outside, and truth be told I don’t have the inclination today.
I’ve been invited to lunch up at Chris and Bills. I decide to park lower down and walk up to their place; this was a good idea at the bottom of Casoli, not so clever at the top. Shattered and dealing with altitude sickness, (an exaggeration) I arrive. It does take me a good fifteen minutes to get over the climb. (Note to self, try harder to drop some timber, fatty).
We sit outside chatting in the shade, the sun, even this high up is unrelenting; Italy has just gone to code 3 red alert, due to the unusually hot weather. The neighbours come and go with cheery waves and shouts of ‘Ciao’. An old guy in his 80’s whips past in his three-wheeled Ape, (pronounced App-ay), its engine buzzing as he passes: Ape is Italian for bee, and the machines are made by Piaggio, who make the famous Vespa, (wasp) scooters.
After lunch I spot a tiny lizard on the window sill, I say spot it, it’s hard to see as it’s about a half of a centimetre long. Chris screams as it scoots under a cupboard to safety. She’s convinced it’s going to grow into a full sized crocodile overnight, and have her when she comes down in the morning.
Bill nips out, and Chris and myself are on ‘crocodile watch’, eventually it emerges and we set about capturing it. For something so small it sure can shift. I corner it and Chris drops a plastic container over it. Now we just have to find a way of getting outside.
Eventually after following the tried and tested paper and glass technique used by spider removers the world over, the 6 foot crocodile is evicted, and we give ourselves a pat on the back. A job well done.
Venerdi 8 luglio 2011 – I don’t feel like work, the iPod is having a summer mood today, Steps are playing their cover of the Diana Ross top ten hit, Chain Reaction. I’m feeling bouncy and singing along as I eat my toast and jam. Now there’s a thing; back in the UK I never ate jam, but there was a jar (cherry) in the fridge and I’ve been eating it ever since.
I decide to spend the day at the coast, so I fill up with petrol and head off northwards. First stop is San Vito Chietino, the little beach here is crammed with people under umbrellas, the sound of enjoyment bounces on the air, and laughter washes in with the waves. A voice is raised at a small boy who bounces his beach ball into another family’s space.
I drive further up the coast, bouncing along with every dip and rise in the coast road. My bottle of water once chilled is now warm and devoid of any fizz, however I’m parched. I pull over at another beach, I want to check out. Now apparently this is supposed be a popular place with gay men. For popular read, spot where they can get a quick shag. I stroll along the beach, it’s empty, apart from one man sunbathing and a couple in their latter years canoodling in the sea. I arrive at the area supposedly frequented by gay men and spot the signs of outdoor activity. tracks into the wooded area are apparent, and occasionally there’s a discarded condom wrapper on the ground.
I’m being followed by a man, he looks nervous and obviously married, he keeps stopping and looking over to see if I’m looking at him, I’m not. It’s too hot for any of that outdoors nonsense. I pass through a dense 
I walk back, now the man is chatting to a young lad about 20, he lowers his gaze as I walk passed, guilty maybe or embarrassed I don’t know nor care. I drive into Pescara to buy some more cans of anchovy stuffed olives, then continue my bouncing along until I get home.
Giovedi 7 luglio 2011 – Chris and Bill are coming over today to help me up at my place, so as the final notes of Lazy Afternoon by Barbra Streisand fade out, I crush rosemary and garlic and make a paste for the pork we’ll have for lunch. Donna Summer swaps places with Barbra and Spring Affair plays as Chris and Bill arrive.
Bill manages to sort out the strimmer and replaces the line for the metal blade, before strimming the untamed grass outside the front of the house. Chris, who doesn’t like bugs comes face to face with a scorpion, then a grasshopper, followed by a mantis. She lives higher up than me, so the temperature can be at least 5 degrees lower, and they have more of a breeze up there, and no mosquitos. The mozzies are a bind to be honest, people think you can spend the evenings sat outside drinking wine as the sun sets. You could, but you’d get eaten alive.
We leave the work and set off to have lunch, when we spot something on a neighbours steps. Soaking up the heat is a little adder, about 12 inches long, the poisonous little reptile eyes us suspiciously. It’s a beautiful little thing, but knowing it’s venomous we keep our distance, and Chris takes a photo.
Despite having a large lunch, I have to cook the mussels purchased yesterday, so I have dinner late, cozze piccante con spaghetti, very nice it is too. The wine is poured, a large beetle is evicted before the next instalment of Heroes rounds off the day.
Mercoledi 6 luglio 2001 – The Cure sing Let’s Go to Bed, I wish I could as today has mundane written all over it. I’m ironing, polishing, sweeping and doing all manner of household chores today. It’s a lovely day, a tad warm to be honest, which means the heat and steam from the iron are tiresome.
Touch Me, from the Bollywood movie Dhoom2 plays as the ironing board is eventually stowed away and I make some lunch before having a shower. I have an appointment with our lawyers in Lanciano to pay the council tax. People say it must be expensive to live in Italy? But it’s not when you consider you save £40 a week just on council 
I have an hour to kill in Lanciano, so wander around stopping just to buy a guide to all the summer festivals in Abruzzo; well I got to do something on those warm summer evenings haven’t I? I escape the heat by ducking into the cathedral, it’s cool so I sit and reflect on my life. An Italian man walks in and asks me for directions, I’m happy that he asked rather than just thought I’d 
I meet with my lawyers, who tell me there’s a resolution almost on the supply of water to our house. Looks like we’ll have to pay for a new pipe to be laid, but at least we can get sorted with the plumbing once it’s done. They tell me that they think my Italian language is coming along nicely, Piero says my pronunciation is very good. So I leave their offices smiling once again.
I’m thinking nothing else good could happen, when I nip into the supermarket and on the fresh fish stall they have fresh mussels, with
Martedi 05 luglio 2011 – The French windows are open allowing the early morning breeze into the room. My breakfast of omelette and ham is consumed as José Carreras sings Donizetti’s classic, Una Furtiva Lagrima. The breeze is brisk, making it a good day to be in the garden.
I spend a couple of hours on my toil, that seems never ending, again it takes a great effort just to clear a small area of land, but at least I can see a difference. Kate Bush sings Love And Anger, as I feel a drop of rain on my forehead. I can hear a grumble on the wind, and overhead the sky has become leaden. Then suddenly as if someone has slit the sky open with a blade, a torrent of cold rain drenches me. It feels good, and like a demented fool, I walk back slowly.
I get back soaked, Baleno looks like a wrung out mop as she takes shelter under the patio table. I resemble something similar and rather than traipse wet into the house, I strip off, one advantage of living so remote is that you can go all day without seeing anyone. Mind you that said, what’s the betting a car full of nuns will drive past as I’m slipping out of my pants?
The valley has disappeared, completely engulfed in mist and rain. I hear mewing, and open the porch door so Baleno can shelter inside, as I settle down to an hour of writing.
Around midday the rain has gone, and brilliant sunshine takes its place, the cat goes to soak up the sun on the wooden walkway, and I prepare lunch with Crazy Cool, by Paula Abdul in the background.
Lunedi 04 luglio 2011 – I’m working in the garden, still attempting to clear the years of badly behaving plant life. Plan B play Free, from the hugely successful album, The Defamation of Strickland Banks, an album that in my opinion, must go down in musical history as a work of genius. I can hear my name being called, I turn the volume down and realise it’s my 93 year old neighbour. I rush to see what’s wrong: 
I arrive, hot and sweaty the run taking the wind out of me, she beckons me into her kitchen, pours me a cup of freshly brewed coffee and tells me she’s made me some Ferratelle. Like a waffle with a hint of aniseed to them. I thank her, saying I’ll save them for pranzo, (lunch).
I work on the land for another couple of hours, before it gets too hot to continue. I shower as Black Eyed Peas play Shut Up. I’m suitably cooled down, and just wrapped in a towel I start to think about lunch. I decide to have a plate of anti pasti, so I chop some ham, grab some salami, pickles
I spend the afternoon working on Italian verbs, thrilling I know.
I pop to the shop, car windows open to let the stifling heat out, Hurts are belting out Stay, as I trundle along; with scenery like this there’s no need for speed. I buy a big bulb of fennel, and decide that dinner 
Earlier I found a DVD with the American TV series Heroes on it, so I downloaded the appropriate player and spend the remainder of the day with 4 episodes, and go to bed entertained but none the wiser as to what’s actually going on. Hopefully it will become clearer in later episodes.
Saturday 02 July 2011 – I’m chatting to Brenda on Skype, when there’s a tap at the window. It’s Bill from Casoli, he’s popped in to see if I’d like to go for lunch. I think this is a jolly good idea, and after the chat we head off to Lanciano as he needs to get some wholemeal flour. This is a good sign, as it means I can get some instruction into the art of bread making.
It’s a funny old day weather wise, it rained in the night, then this morning it was sunny, but midday signals a breezy yet temperate afternoon ahead.
Bill shows me how he makes bread, and Chris cooks us lunch, a very tasty bolognaise. We spend the afternoon chatting; well to be honest mostly laughing raucously. (Christine does have the ability to light up a room, she’s so witty.) Bill’s bread has proved and has tripled in size, he knocks it out, and sets it aside again. I learn that during this process I’m being too tender with it, it needs a good seeing to, as Bill says.
The days slips away swiftly, and before long it’s early evening. I leave with a loaf under my arm, heading back for another 4 episodes of Heroes.
There will no A Life On Shuffle tomorrow, for Sunday 03 July, as all I did that day was chill out and do nothing.
Friday 1 July 2011 – Despite the rain in the night, the first day of July is bathed in sunshine, I sit outside eating my breakfast listening to the birds singing in the valley. It’s going to be another hot day and to be honest I don’t fancy toiling in a still damp wilderness.
I grab my Abruzzo guide book, and look for somewhere to visit, I decide on the Roman ruins of Juvanum. So as Aha play Stay On These Roads I shave and get dressed for my trip out. How insightful the Swedish rockers were, the roads up twist and turn with 
I drive through the pretty hilltop village of Gessopalena, I park up and have a wander around. My friend Alessio’s family are from here, and I see his family name on 
The next village I pass through is Civitella Messer Raimondo. I’ve heard many people talk about this village, so expect it to be beautiful, in honesty it’s rather dull and non descript. So I don’t bother stopping to take any photographs.
I spot another brown sign which indicates I’m still heading in the right direction. At a sharp left turn the road rises steeply, and I climb upwards seeing a sign telling me the museum is just 2km away. I pull into the car park, and apart from the two shirtless gardeners I’m alone.
The ruins at Juvanum are really just low walls peeking out of the earth, there’s the remains of a road, no longer flat due to the seismic activity over the years. The location is thought to indicate the ruins were a place famed for health, the name Juvanum derives from iuvare, which is Latin for ‘to improve one’s health’. The settlement was left ruined following an earthquake in 4 AD. What was left over the years was plundered by locals needing the stones to build homes.
I drive back, stopping once to take a photograph of Lago di Sant’Angelo and a second time to grab a bottle of wine from the supermarket. The dinner dishes are drying over the sink, the pop of a cork sounds and Jimmy Somerville sings his excellent version of Where Have All The Flowers Gone? Perfect end to the day.
Thursday 30 June 2011 – ENEL, the electric company are doing some work today and we’ve all had notice that the electricity will go off for a few hours at 09.45. Breakfast is eaten as the iPod plays the remains of last night’s Killers track, it shuffles and Revolver (David Guetta Remix) by Madonna takes its place.
I shower, take a quick look at my email accounts and check out Facebook. At 09.44 the electricity goes off, so I pull on my wellingtons and make my way up the road to continue clearing the land.
It’s very hot, so I decide to work in the shade around the side of the house. We’ve got some concrete steps at the side, as like all old Italian houses there are no internal staircases. I decide to clear the ivy and weeds that are clinging to them.
Before 
I’ve accumulated quite a pile of weeds and rubbish, and have built myself a nice little bonfire, however as the midday heat is now too much to bear I go back for another shower and to grab some lunch. Luckily I have a rechargeable docking station, so at least I can still 
At 18.45, the electricity comes on again and I can think about cooking dinner. I’m about to do this when there’s a rumble in the distance. So with matches rattling and a watering can of water I go back up to our place and set fire to the mini bonfire. (Not before checking there was no snake taking a nap inside). The fire burns nicely and the last of the embers lose their heat as the first, fat drops of rain turn to steam upon contact.
Job done, it’s time to get some dinner, so I walk back down the lane Lost In Music, with Sister Sledge.
Wednesday 29 June 2011 – To remind me that the cats are missing, during breakfast Tom Jones sings, What’s New Pussycat? I put my cup down and open the front door. Baleno is there, I look under the steps and there’s still no sign of her kitten.
I continue in the morning clearing the land, it’s a case of popping out of the downstairs room to do a bit every time a cloud covers the sun, and popping back inside when its cover has drifted off. It’s hotter today, and there’s not even a whisper of any breeze. I have to keep stopping to wipe the sweat away, I’m sure I must be losing at least 2 litres of water each morning doing this task, thankfully the coolness of downstairs room keeps my chilled water cold.
Sitting on the ground, trowel in hand lifting some clumps of grass, I stop and listen as the Sugababes sing Ace Reject, from the last album that featured Mutya. It’s shame that, what was once a pool of incredible talent is now just a commodity. I fear we wont see much from the new line up, before they fade into obscurity. I feel something on my foot, I look down and a shiny black snake is resting on my wellington boot. It’s only about a foot long, and its skin looks like highly polished patent leather. It spots me and in an instant has vanished and I start to breath again.
In the evening I go dinner at my south African friends Bronda and Koort’s house. It’s a lovely little house and they’ve made great use of the space. Bronda shows us why she fell in love with the house, a spectacular view of Casoli and it’s castle, which is made even more spectacular by night. Sadly no photograph could ever do it justice.
Just before I retire for the evening I have another glass of wine, and catch up on some emails and Facebook messages. I turn off the Killers, two thirds of the way through When You Were Young, It’s time to put another day away.
Tuesday 28 June 2001- There’s a little cloud cover today, so after washing up the breakfast dishes I start to tackle the back garden. With the iPod in it’s dock, it’s man against nature: It’s not long before nature starts winning the war. The problem is, that beneath about an inch of soil and weeds is a cobbled hard-standing, so I have to excavate slowly, it’s not so much like gardening, more like an archaeological dig.
Zombie by the Cranberries plays, I stop and listen as it throws itself across the Italian wilderness. The earlier recordings by the Irish rock band were superb, songs filled with angst and clever lyrics melt alongside innocence and melody. They did however start to go off the boil towards the end with some of their songs just becoming lyrically baffling.
After four hours I’ve cleared a sizeable amount of land, and as the temperature rises, I retire for the day and make myself lunch. After a shower I take a walk; Baleno follows me, mewing all the way down the lane, she’s a really vocal cat. When we get back, I see the big tom cat outside the gate, he really is a hulking brute, black and white with shaggy fur and face made up of pure malevolence. Baleno spots him too, and runs back to check on her kitten.
I leave for my Italian lesson, looking in on mother and kitten, both are sleeping quite contently. Upon my return, I begin to make my dinner, the iPod is playing and Meat Of Youth by Meat Of Youth plays, the drums and fretless bass pounding away. A shuffle takes place and more heightened drum beats as Bow Wow Wow plunge into Cowboy. I pop outside to give Ada’s cats the skin off my chicken. I look for Baleno but she’s no where to be seen, nor the kitten, both of them have gone. I hope she’s moved the kitten to somewhere safer.
Monday 27 June 2011 – After breakfast, I leave the house early today, in my endeavour to get some work done. It’s too hot to be outside so I tackle the upstairs toilet. I say toilet, it’s actually a smelly loo and sink in the living room behind a plastic walled partition. The loo has rocks on the lid to stop the rats coming in, as it was the way they were getting into the house when it was empty, via the septic tank.
Now at first I thought It would be a relatively easy task, but no. The walls are riveted together, not a screw in sight, but Kate Nash sings Merry Happy and it puts me in a bouncy mood, so I start prising the rivets out one by one. After a couple of hours the sweat is dripping off me, but I’ve removed the roof, the wall and door.
Destiny’s Child sing Girl, as I slip under the shower to wash away the mornings toil. I’m making a sandwich for lunch when I hear a commotion outside, I open the door and see a huge tomcat running away, and Baleno spitting and hissing: she may be tiny but she’s feisty. I check on the kitten and it’s got some blood on it’s neck, there’s a small bite but it doesn’t look too bad. I put it back and mother clambers in beside it, rubbing her head into the palm of my hand and purring loudly.
I find a stash of DVD’s, the ones you get free in the English newspapers, there’s a handful of Agatha Christie’s Poirot, the ITV television series. I never watched these back in the UK, so in the evening I chill out with a glass of wine and the little Belgian detective.
Sunday 26 June 2011 – Radiohead sing Just, and I think I know what I’ll do today, ‘just’ chill out. So I have a leisurely breakfast, log onto the internet and check out the news. It’s only 08.30 and the temperature is already at 23 degrees, and with no breeze it’ll no doubt feel hotter by midday.
At 11.00 am, I pack a bag and drive off to the beach at Fossacessia, the pebble beach is full of families enjoying the sun. I find a spot and layout my towel, considering it’s pebbles it’s quick comfortable once you arranged them beneath yourself, by doing what must look like a horizontal mamba. There’s a welcome breeze coming off the Adriatic and I feel the lure of the sea. I scramble awkwardly over the pebbles, making a mental note to get some shoes I can swim in. The sea is a welcoming respite from the sun, I wade out until it’s above my waist, before swimming in the clear water.
My swim over, I lie on my towel eating a fresh peach and just people watch for an hour. The sun is becoming unbearable, so like the Italians I pack up and leave, heading back for some lunch.
The afternoon slips away, and after dinner I go outside to water my veg, I see Baleno under the steps, she spots me and calls to me. I walk down and to her and she shows me that she’s had one solitary kitten. I guess because she’s so young herself she was only able to carry one.She’s hungry, so I give her some chopped ham, and leave her to her motherly duties.
Saturday 25 June 2011 – It’s just before 7pm and as Gary Numan plays This House Is Cold, I take a shower before heading off to Bill and Christine’s place in Casoli. I drive up the twisting streets following the SatNav as it directs me. I turn one way then another before it tells me to take the next right. I do and it says “You have reached your destination.” I hardly think so, as it’s left me facing a sheer drop on two 
Fiasco over and at the party I’m introduced to a little Italian lady, she says hello and says “You’re the new man in G.V.” I reply, “Yes I am.” to which she then tells me my house number. How she knows this I do not know, my house is approximately 6 miles away, and I’ve never laid eyes on the woman before in my life.
An Italian couple arrive next, I’m introduced to the husband, who also
The evening is really lovely, Bill being an ex Navy chef means the food is excellent, the views from the roof terrace are spectacular, and the air 
I get home, and it’s time for something stiffer, a grappa hits the spot and I go to bed thinking, it may be hard work walking up to the top of Casoli, but at least it’s easier to park lower down.
Bill’s excellent homemade bombolini
Friday 24 June 2011 – Today I eat breakfast, poached eggs on toast as eighties Welsh rockers, The Alarm play Tell Me. I nip down to the shops to grab a few things, before the heat of the day increases. I’m leaving when a guy asks for my car keys, he’s locked out of his car and needs to try to get in. The car has a Bulgarian sticker on the bumper, I think to myself, bleeding hell, that’ll be a long walk back then.
I get to my car and I’ve been blocked in, despite the plethora of available parking spaces, someone has left their car behind mine. I look around to see if the offender is near by and noticed me. No such luck, I sit and wait. Ten minutes later a small Chinese lady from the shop opposite, comes out and moves her car from behind mine into the vacant space on its right. No apology, no eye contact, not even the slightest recognition that I’ve been inconvenienced.
The heat today is almost unbearable; I guess I’ll become acclimatised to it eventually, but just a few weeks in from the UK and this is almost too much to bear. A cool shower after lunch sorts me out, and as Tiziano Ferro sings Mio Fratello, I drink a pint of ice cold apple juice.
I leave for Castel Frentano, for the free language lesson, I’m driving along the lane until I have to stop, because the road is blocked by two cars, side by side. In front is a tractor and some sort of harvesting machine. The car on my side of the road moves forward, this allows a car coming in the opposite direction to pass. I watch as the car in front then stops next to the tractor and starts having a conversation with its driver. I beep my horn, nothing happens. No apology, no eye contact, not even the slightest recognition that I’ve been inconvenienced. (I’ve been here once before today). I beep again: nothing. I beep again this time continuously sounding my horn: nothing . I get out of my car and walk round to the elderly driver and tell him to move out of the way. No apology, no eye contact, not even the slightest recognition that I’ve been inconvenienced. He pulls his car forward a few feet, parks up and as I drive past the old git flips me the finger.
