Pedestrian Sandwiches and the Hello Dog

Monday 29 August 2011 – The temperature is lower this morning, so I strip the bed and wash the sheets, In the distance the ‘hello’ dog is barking; I hear him every day. In this rural area the sound of farm dogs barking is part and parcel of life here. This dog is very distinctive because his bark sounds like he’s shouting hello, sort of sounds like wet-wo.

Today marks the next two weeks of ‘gigantic savings’ at the local supermarket; a shop that already has low prices. I decide to pop down to check them out and am very soon leaving with a couple of bags of shopping. Some of the bargains I come away with are 6 x 1.5 litre bottles of sparkling spring water for 99 cents, 5 litres of Montipulciano red wine for €4, 6 x cartons of peach juice for 75 cents and an amazing cheese I’ve never tasted before because it’s always quite expensive, but today I got a 500g block of Quartirolo Lombardo DOP for just €1,75 and a bottle of spumante brut for 75 cents – BARGAIN!

After lunch; tasty arosticini, the American’s arrive who are staying in the apartment downstairs, they don’t knock on the door, they go straight downstairs and then shout my name until they get my attention. They tell me they came over last night at 01.30, saw my car and banged on the door, but I must have been out; I smile and say, “Yes”, reminding them about the festa last night. Truth was I was asleep, and didn’t hear them, for goodness sake who tells you they’re coming at 2.00pm then turns up, twelve and a half hours early, on the off chance in the early hours of the morning.

I’m doing a little writing, nothing that needs my considered attention when I am sure I miss hear a lyric in the Siouxsie and the Banshee’s song, ‘Halloween’ -  for some reason I hear ‘I wandered through your sandwich’ – obviously this is incorrect.

I escape the American’s and pop into town for a drink with Christine, Richard and Annie. Richard and Annie have purchased an old jailhouse in the nearby town of Palombaro – More about that though tomorrow.

Part way through the evening and Christine’s silver stalker walks past us closely followed by Maria. Now it’s very hard to miss Maria, not only is she a lady of large proportions, and quite tall for an Italian signora, she wears what can only be described as quite vocal. Despite being a widow, there’s no black dresses for Maria and tonight she’s in her tangerine one. She comes to say hello, I chat to her and establish she’s lived in the town for twenty years, and her husband passed away in September, two years ago. She asks if I live there, I tell her no, but not far away. I also joke that I’m here looking for a new wife, her eyes light up, we have more flirtatious banter before she leaves with a jolly, “Buona Notte.” The others laugh saying that I’m now betrothed to Maria, and I have a vision in my head of WWE wrestler Johnny Curtis in a tangerine wedding dress.