Aniseed Eggs and Propaganda

Tuesday 30 August 2011 – I wake slowly, enjoying the morning breeze that’s whispering through the room. 07.00 and the dreadful screeching bird is exercising its lungs: I don’t know what it looks like, as I’ve never seen it just heard it; if its plumage is anything like its voice, it must be ugly.

I decide on scrambled eggs for breakfast, the iPod shuffles and Wrongkong begin the day with ‘Real Boy’, I’m whisking eggs adding seasoning and without looking reach into the cupboard which houses a plethora of herbs and spices. I grab a bottle and shake a sprinkling of what I think is dried mint into the egg mixture. As it cooks the aroma it gives off is not minty, so I check and discover I’ve added aniseed – oh well too late now. The result was aniseed flavoured scramble egg, and very nice it was too; methinks I’ll be having that again.

I have to write a 250-500 piece news story today and despite doing the prep for it, I just can’t muster the enthusiasm; I know I have to do it but surfing the internet becomes my mode of procrastination. As the Gibson Brother’s bounce around the room with their Latin inspired disco tune, ‘Que Sera, Mi Vida (If Ever You Should Go)’, I make myself a cup of chamomile tea; (a taste recently acquired) and unplug the laptop from the internet.

I finish my work, switch on the iPod and shower as it shuffles away in the background; I emerge from the cool water as ‘Immigrant Dreams’ by Sandii and the Sunsetz fades out. I drive to pick up Chris, however the quick road up to Casoli is closed, so I take the long route, only to discover the road up to the piazza is also closed; a quick look around confirms there’s no police around, so I move the bollards and scoot through.

We visit Richard and Annie in nearby Palombaro, their house is a real treasure, art deco staircases, oodles of hidden rooms with vaulted ceilings, a fabulous view, not mention the cantina, attached shop and prison cell. They are hoping to eventually open up a spa B&B, but for now are just enjoying cleaning the place up. My favourite thing is the piece of fading Mussolini propaganda painted on the wall. which reads: The class (?) is the power the (?) hope the certainty of the future of Italy - (?) indicates words indiscernible/missing

We meet new people at the local bar and enjoy a few beers, and are joined by Glenn Murphy, the actor who was in the ITV drama, London’s Burning. I take Chris home and she tells me she hates me for making her walk up the hill; as she does every time – we laugh and I set off home, only to discover both roads out of Casoli are now closed, the reason being so people try the new one that’s just opened, which is steep and winds like a coil. (No change there then).