Downloads, Chillies and Stalking

Saturday 27 August 2011 – Morrissey is singing ‘Shame Is The Name’ as my breakfast is cooking- a full English – The sun is belting out more of its hotter than hell rays, will this heat-wave ever break?

I spend the morning getting the downstairs apartment ready for a family that are arriving on Monday. To be honest I’m not really into the domestic side of things, having already done it once before, it cemented my belief that I’d hate to run or work in a hotel.

I spend the remainder of the morning searching for and downloading music, I run into quite a few demo tracks and feature recordings of ex Sugababe Mutya Buena, these are added to my collection as is The Sound of Camden and Linea 77. So my iPod now has 19,055 songs.

Early afternoon, it’s so hot that there’s nothing for it but to have another cold shower. The heat is so intense that I have to keep doors and windows closed, there’s no breeze so it creeps inside the house. Everything is warm, my shirts in the wardrobe feel like they’ve just come out of a tumble dryer, and tepid pillows make taking a siesta a no no. Still this baking sunshine is good for my sundried chillies, that are as hot as the Italian countryside at the moment. (I think I’ll make little packages up for Christmas gifts).

I read for a little, shave, then head up to Casoli for beers with my friend Christine. Now there’s something you should know about Christine; it’s not that’s she’s a real life Eastender, or even that she can be seen in a Pathe newsreel as a young schoolgirl. The shocking revelation is that she has a stalker, a silver haired gentleman that shuffles around town with an air of old fashioned eccentricity.

I use the term stalker loosely, as the chap has never made contact, he’s not so much as posted a pair of his unwashed pants through Christine’s door, and to the best of my knowledge he doesn’t have a room plastered from floor to ceiling with photographs of her. In fact his only crime is that wherever she goes, he always appears. She can be sat in the bar, and he’ll saunter past. A trip to the post office and she turns the leave and he’s the next person in line behind her. And heaven forbid she takes a stroll through the market on Friday morning, because you can guarantee, as she rifles through the €3 clothes stall and picks up a lilac halter-neck, there’d be another hand on the hem, – the silver stalker.

I’m Back and it’s all Ya Ya

Friday 26 August 2011 – Okay so I’ve had a brief break from blogging due to work commitments and also sheer laziness. So what have I been up to in the hiatus – well mostly sweating and showering.

It’s been blisteringly hot in Italy, some locals have said hotter than it’s been in many years. One day plant life looks vibrant, the next day it looks withered and wilting, the next its lush and leafy. I just hope one day I’ll adapt to this climate, as most days I’ve been more the withered and wilting variety.

August is festival season here, so I’ve enjoyed bands, street parties and watched locals dancing in the street, not to mention a few beers at my favourite watering hole – Bar il Borgo in Casoli.

Workwise, I’ve been catching up on writing assignments for my course, and even had some work published, with other articles due for publication next month. Here’s the link to an article I wrote about the writer/actress Rachael Halliwell and her splendid one woman show, Deirdre and Me.

http://www.differentscene.co.uk/?p=3076

Lunch today was arosticini as Jim Gilstrap sang the classic ‘Swing Your Daddy,dishes washed up and I pop downstairs into the cool of the apartment, it was my intention to do some writing however I spot a DVD with a name that intrigues me.

I end up lost in the film called Divine Secrets of the Ya-Ya Sisterhood. it’s got a great cast and the story albeit more chic-flick is very good, and for an hour or so it took my mind off the soaring temperature outside.

There’ll be more to come, so keep coming back for details about Christine’s silver stalker, the pizza sucking lady and my impending marriage to Maria the orange peril of Casoli.

Ciao x

Brief Break

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

Liz McClarnon and the Egg and Pocket Incident

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.

Crocodiles in the Kitchen

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.

Bouncing and the Freezer Graveyard

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 piece of undergrowth and discover a ramshackle set of buildings, now covered in graffiti and in serious disrepair. They are the remains of what was once a holiday park, in an area beside what was the reception building lie fridges and freezers, rusting and lifeless, they put me in mind of the imaginary elephant’s graveyard.

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.

A Bugs’ Life

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.

Mundane to Magnificent

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 tax. Once you get residency you pay no council tax and you get a reduction in all utility bills.

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 not understand/know the answer due to being a foreigner. The man walks away happy, and I’m smiling.

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 half a kilo in the cool box I drive home singing along with Kate Bush to Wuthering Heights, what started off as mundane ended up as magnificent …….Isn't life grand?

A Naked Englishman and the Rain

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?

I put the iPod in it’s dock and as Joan Armatrading starts to sing No Love, I pad off to grab a shower.

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.

It’s All About Food

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: which isn’t easily done in steel toe-capped wellington boots.

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, cooked mushrooms, chopped tomato, and to top it I spread two Dairylea triangles on toasted bread. (I brought the Dairylea over from the UK) So pranzo can only be described as Dairylea meets la dolce vita.

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 tonight will be pork, roasties and braised fennel. I drive back with Whatever’s Left, by Snow Patrol trailing in my wake.

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.