Hebden Bridge…olivespastavino paid a visit…

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A Birthday Gift from Hebden Bridge

A Birthday Gift from Hebden Bridge
(well actually from Jean and Steve)

I have met some lovely expats whilst living in Le Marche and they include two good friends, Jean and Steve, who have a holiday home here, with a swimming pool, (but that’s not the only reason we like them – honest!). They come from Manchester and usually drive over from the UK when they visit and they bring with them gorgeous ‘things’ for their home and also bring generous gifts for birthdays and anniversaries etc., Whenever I ask them, ‘Oh that’s lovely where did you get that?’ the answer is always the same, ‘Hebden Bridge!’ So, when I took a trip to the UK earlier this month and stayed with the lovely couple in Didsbury, Manchester I was happy to go along with any of their plans as long as it included at TRIP TO HEBDEN BRIDGE PLEASE!

The Moors (Obviously)

The Moors (Obviously)

I was not disappointed, we went on a Sunday which was a trifle silly as the weather was glorious and of course the world and his wife were visiting Hebden Bridge. I loved the journey across the moors and thought the scenery breathtaking and magnificent. I was sure that I had been to the area before but it must have been at least fifteen years ago and I couldn’t remember seeing the open moorland and far reaching views. In fact I remember being distinctly unimpressed so I don’t know where in Yorkshire I was. I do remember that I went to a factory that made clogs and have yet to find out exactly where that was.

hebdonbridgemill

We had to drive all the way through the town before finding a parking space as it was so busy but I managed to get a taste of the shops as we passed by. I couldn’t wait to have a good wander and nosey about. We lunched at a trendy cafe/restaurant, delicious Spanish Omelette and salad. Yum. Then hit the shops. What a treat, textiles, candles, bric-a-brac, jewellery, bookshops, toyshops, antiques, coffee shops, shoes and so much hand made stuff and craft shops, food markets and lots lots more.

shopping

I saw some great knobs for my kitchen dresser project but couldn’t remember how many I needed (renovation has not yet begun). I loved it all so much but then I never actually bought anything! What a twit. The problem was that I was travelling on trains and planes (no boats this time) and therefore not really in a position to carry much back in my luggage. However,  I have promised myself and informed The Man that we are going back next year with the car/truck and will be filling it up for Italy. He didn’t seem too keen until I reminded him that the Tour de France was starting in Yorkshire in 2014 and wouldn’t he like a roadside seat?

canalfactory

 

bridge

 

To finish off the afternoon we walked back to the car along the canal. Wonderful. I was carried into another time, it seems trite to say it but it’s true. I expected to see children in Victorian  dresses and boots running though the gates at the end of the little roads beside the canal, chasing each other, skipping or playing with a stick and a hoop.

cottages

 

backtoback

The back to back houses had washing lines strung across the road.  I thought that at any minute I would see a Beatrix Potter lookalike..(I know I was in the wrong county but I’m just trying to get you to understand how it felt!)

beatrix

The old mills and factories next to the water looked the same as they might have done 150 years ago. It was peaceful (no traffic sounds) and for a short while it felt as though I’d been transported back in time. It was romantic and dreamy.

canal1

Short lived though! I was soon brought back down to earth by the sight of our car with a puncture. But it was efficiently fixed by Steve.  Jean and I gave him a gold star, excellent work!

puncture2

I have the price for the work on the car, finally….

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Image

 

My third attempt to get the bill for the car was this morning successful. Although, he hadn’t actually prepared it, he invited me into the office while he got out the necessary paperwork. ‘You’d better sit down’, he said, then laughed. The phone rang and of course he answered it, he didn’t tell the person to hang on or call back but left me sitting and staring whilst he chatted on the phone as though he (and I) had all the time in the world.  This is typical of Italy of course and I have learned to be patient, this is the way things are done here. I looked at his oily finger nails then my eyes went to the shelf behind where there was a lovely chocolate cake sitting under a plastic cover, the two things seemed at odds, dirty hands and delicious cake. I wondered if the garage men get used to the smell of oil, diesel, grease and petrol? It would put me off wanting to eat anything. They must have special washing machines in their houses just for the dirty overalls. I was thinking all this while I sat and waited. I turned around and looked at the photos on the wall, the usual calendar of naked women and cars and there were also photos of the mechanic when he was younger sporting leathers and astride a rather fancy looking motorbike. Faded family photos also adorned the office and this took my mind back the the dirty overalls, knowing that the wife would be the one to be dealing with them, not many Italian men know how to use a washing machine….I have been lead to believe.

Aha, he’d finished on the phone and smiled at me, adjusted the adding machine and began to punch in the numbers… 110, 45, 67, 18, 18, 19, 31…something like that anyway and then the big one 450…I was hoping that was the total but – unlucky – no, the total came to just under €800. So expensive or not? I think okay, considering six weeks ago we were talking €2,500/3000!

So the waiting is over, I know now how much is, ‘not much’ it’s €800 much.  I took the bill in my hand and smiled.

‘A domani, o dopo domani, o…’ I said, ’til tomorrow or the next day, or…’

That’s the good thing about a small town in Italy, you may wait a long time for the bill but they will also wait a long time for payment. I am British though, so probably won’t keep him hanging on longer than a week.  

I fly through the air with the greatest of ease…NOT

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aeroplane

I paid a short visit to the UK last week to see some friends and family. Before I left I got in a panic because the forecast in Italy was not good, there was much talk of Cyclone Penelope, she was bringing bad storms with high winds, rain, thunder and lightening. I’m not the best flyer and panicked that the take off would be dramatic with the plane trying to fight its way off the ground, battling 60 mile and hour winds, bump all over the place and people would scream and shout and I would silently try to control the rapid beating of my heart, the sweaty palms and jelly legs with Yoga breathing; count slowly to four and breathe in through the nose and count slowly to four and breathe out through the mouth, or is it the other way round? Either way it doesn’t seem to calm me or slow the heartbeat, believe me I try it for every take-off and landing.

Before I left for the airport I emailed all my children, just in case…well just in case. They replied with suitable encouragement, ‘you’ll be okay Mum’…’the flight will be fine’…I put on my lucky bracelet and underwear, (yes lucky underwear), I’m not superstitious at all!

I collected my car from the garage – it went like a dream having had the bearings in the gearbox replaced – still no idea of cost though. As soon as I do know I’ll post on here. The weather was pretty dire as I drove to Ancona, and I was intent on observing every little change in the sky, watching the tree tops for the slightest change in movement showing the wind had eased and I imagined myself walking from the car-park to the terminal building getting soaked, cold and with the umbrella being more of a hindrance than a help. I was going to have to dump the umbrella before check-in as obviously it’s considered a lethal weapon and Ryanair would definitely not allow me to take it on board, I expect for a price I could have put it in the hold though. However, I didn’t need it, Yay!

I arrived at the carpark and found complete stillness in the air, very little cloud and no rain. Penelope had obviously decided to stick to the west coast of the country and move south enveloping Tuscany and Umbria, avoiding Le Marche altogether. It’s a mistake a lot of people make, they stick to the ‘other side’ thinking it’s better because it’s been a popular destination with holiday makers and ex-pats for long time. Sadly many people still don’t take the decision to investigate Le Marche with its hilltop villages, beaches and mountains. We have it all.

I do love living here but then I like to go back to the UK to visit friends and to see family, which means I HAVE to fly quite a few times a year. We have only driven back once but it costs more money and takes more time. The advantage of driving of course is that you can fill your car with goodies from England and drive them back. But then there’s always a friend to help with that. Thank you Hugh and Helen for taking me to the shops, I’m looking forward to the delivery next week. Thanks also to Jean and Steve for my stay in Manchester and visit to Hebden Bridge, a blog about that is to follow folks.

I got just as panicky before the return flight as the forecast was again horrendous with high winds, storms, people in Norfolk evacuating their homes,  the full malarkey. I experienced torrential rain hammering on the window of my bedroom and the rattling of shutters which, disturbed my night’s sleep and I awoke in a sweaty state of fear, because of the weather not because it was a trip with Ryanair. Luckily for me it must have blown itself out as the flight was again smooth and incident free. I really must get over my dread of flying, but I think it will stay with me forever. It began after a bad experience about 30 years ago landing at Hong Kong airport (the old one). The plane rocketed around all over the place, I was frozen with fear, my head pushed into the back of the seat in front and two, yes two gin and tonics, one in each hand held high. I couldn’t drink them.  My husband asked the hostess if they could give me something which they kindly did, unfortunately it didn’t work until we’d landed and I then fell asleep in the taxi, missing all the sights on the way to the hotel.  It didn’t help being told afterwards that Hong Kong airport had been on number 1 alert and I think we were the last plane to land before they battened everything down and closed the airport!

I’m not so scared that I can’t fly at all, I know I have to if I want to travel, but when I look around at my fellow passengers they always look so casual and relaxed…but… are they?

Country Car Mechanics, the same the world over….love em!

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I cannot believe it has been over a month since I last posted! That is quite disgraceful. No excuses. I’ll try not to let it happen again. Hope all my followers have missed me…I don’t want to know if you haven’t.

Car

A few weeks ago my car began making a terrible swooshing noise and a ‘red light’ flashed on and off on the dashboard. I took it to the local garage man who came with me for a test drive. He was a little unsettled by the right hand drive situation and felt the need to grab hold of the door handle and even grabbed the hand brake at one point. He paled when a car came in the opposite direction as he was used to being a passenger on the other side of the car. The short trip may have affected his subsequent diagnosis.

He shook his head and tutted, as they do, and told me sadly that the cambelt had gone and I was looking at possibly as much as €3000 to fix it.

I was allowed to drive it home and think about it, but not to drive it anywhere outside the village, just ‘piano, piano’ quietly and slowly. I discussed it with my man and we were both pretty gutted as the car is only 6 years old, a VW Polo 1.2.

We talked and thought and googled, (it is a verb you know; to google). Our googling came up trumps there is NO cambelt in the VW Polo 1.2 2007 cars. YIPPEE!!!

So back we went to the car man and gleefully told him, ‘This car has no cambelt’. He scratched his head and said it must be some bearings in the gearbox then. He’s a good and helpful mechanic despite the lack of knowledge re the cambelt.

He’s had the car now for two weeks, I’ve been down twice but he hadn’t had time to look at it. Today I paid another visit and this time my little car was up high on the ramp things, it’s innards sitting on the bench. He smiled. We’ve ordered the part, it will come tomorrow the car will be ready on Thursday at the latest.

‘How much will it cost?’ I asked.

‘Not much. It’s not so serious.’ He picked up one of the parts on the bench and tried to explain, ‘this we need new, this is not so bad, if it had been these..’ he pointed at a large mechanical thing with lots of cogs, the gear box I’m presume, ‘it would be serious but this is not so much.’

‘But, how much? ‘ I asked again,

‘Not much, it’s not serious.’ Oh, so unhelpful.

So, ‘not much’ could be anything, let’s face it, everyone has a different conception of expensive and cheap. Some people might think that €500 is not much when it could have been €3000 but €500 is a lot to me at the moment. I’m hoping now it might be less but thinking about the entrails of the engine strewn all over the bench I’m wondering how much labour it will take for him to put them back and close it up., tidily.

The thing is, a similar thing happened to me in Devon in 2011, with the same car. I drove a few hundred miles from Cardiff to Devon and began to have a problem with a juddering sort of action. I took it to the local garage and he when I told him how far I’d driven he was horrified. ‘I wouldn’t drive it another two feet!’ he said. I can’t remember what the problem was now but it involved ordering a part and they needed all sorts of intricate details about the car so they could get the right bits.

When I phoned them the next day the conversation had been much the same as the one I had today. The Devon mechanic also said, ‘it won’t be much’ and when I asked again he said the same thing but in a different way, ‘it’ll be a good job, not that expensive’, but refused to give me a price. It turned out to be less than £150 so I’m hoping that all country garage men think the same and that the bill for the Polo this time will be just short of €200…

Somehow I doubt it, but I’ll let you know.

England…West Sussex…village green, pub, cricket, sunny Sunday…

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Cricket on the Village Green

Cricket on the Village Green

Olivespastavino is on holiday, not Brooklyn New York this time but England. I’m officially here to look after my beautiful granddaughter while mum and dad go to a wedding but right now I’m off duty so I took the opportunity to walk from our B&B High Hampstead, into the village of Lurgashall in West Sussex. What a treat!  A quintessentially English scene, village green cricket match in full swing, a pub and a lovely little store open for Sunday papers and a good selection of fresh produce and other goodies for stocking up the holiday fridge!

Village Pub...Noah's Ark

Village Pub…Noah’s Ark

I’m typing this post from my Ipad and it’s proving to be very difficult so I’m just going to add a couple more photos and leave it there. Suffice it to say, I am loving being here in a beautiful part of England but know that by the end of the weekend I will have had my fix and be more than ready to get back to Bella Italia!

A particularly pretty English Country Garden

A particularly pretty English Country Garden

The Main Barn

The Main Barn

Our fabulous B&B

Our fabulous B&B

P.S There are horses, sheep, dogs, chickens…it’s all fabulously rural England.

Evening Market…

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Piazza Del Popolo

Piazza Del Popolo

Fermo Antiques Market in Marche, compared to Arezzo in Tuscany, is not as big and doesn’t have as many furniture or larger antique stalls but the atmosphere is fabulous. It’s held every Thursday evening during July and August and when darkness falls around 8 30 pm it gets very busy and there’s a distinct hum of excitement, money exchanging hands and everyone looking for a bargain.

Antiques and Bric-a-Brac

Antiques and Bric-a-Brac

It was a wonderful balmy evening last Thursday and we met friends for a delicious supper in the Capolinea Café before strolling around the market and savouring the excellent variety of goodies on offer including local crafts, food, bric-a-brac and antique stands. The Piazza del Popolo was buzzing with a mix of tourists and locals enjoying the relaxed ambience, friends greeting each other, laughing and chatting in that familiar Italian animated way, arms and hands flying, purchasers and vendors negotiating for lowest or highest price depending on which side of the deal they were. The Italians strolled about in family groups, like little gangs, Nonna holding the hand of the little ones, Mamma or Babbo, pushing the buggy and straggling behind them, the teenagers eagerly keeping an eye out for school friends they could escape with to enjoy a coke and a conspiratorial chat.

Books and Photos

Books and Photos

Apart from the main square the market spilled over into the big road leading from the Piazza and several side streets; the stands here were mostly craft and local foods, salamis, pecorino cheeses etc., A favourite of mine is ciabuscolo which is a smoked and dry-cured sausage made from pork meat and fat, typical of the Marche region. I love the moist texture and spicy taste. Not sure it’s good for your heart though to eat too much of the delicious stuff. Olive Ascolane are another popular local dish; large green olives which are pitted and stuffed with sausage meat, dipped in breadcrumbs and deep fried. Yummy, my mouth is watering!

Olive Ascolane

Olive Ascolane

ciabuscolo (pink sausage on the right of the photo)

ciabuscolo (pink sausage on the right of the photo)

I loved this stall 'Any Old Iron' !

I loved this stall
‘Any Old Iron’ !

standsHope to make the market at least another twice before then end of this season!

Al Fresco…or is it?

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First of all, the expression ‘Al Fresco’ although they are Italian words, are not used in the same way in Italy. ‘Al fresco’ to the the Italians means ‘in the cooler’ an expression which is the same as the slang, meaning ‘in prison’.  If they talk about eating outside they say, ‘all’aperto’ (in the open) or maybe ‘a fuori’ (outside). Strange that an Italian phrase used all over the world means something different in its country of origin. I blame the Americans…I’m joking!

We love eating outside. We can do it here in Italy for probably two thirds of the year. I know the weather has been good in the UK for a while and I’m pleased that all my friends and relations living there have been able to enjoy eating in the sunshine or under the stars, having picnics and barbecues.

Friends at Re Squarchio

Friends at Re Squarchio

Andrea Preparing the Tables

Andrea Preparing the Tables

Andrea from the Ristorante Re Squarchio put his tables outside about a month ago and we have been there twice already this season. It’s wonderful to sit close to the Tre Archi. This is the triple arched gateway, built of local brick, at the entrance to the old Medieval town centre. They have recently been restored for only the second time since they were built about 500 years ago.  At night they are lit up, in green, white and red, the colours of the Italian flag. I always feel a sense of history, imagining the many people entering our town throughout the ages, travellers, monks, nuns, aristocrats, peasants, tax collectors…ooh I think I’ll stop there.

My Sausage Rolls

My Sausage Rolls

Last weekend in Petritoli we enjoyed the International Supper. All the stranieri (foreigners) living here make a plate of food typical of their country and take it to be offered as part of the buffet. I had intended to make Toad in the Hole but decided the batter would be soggy before it could be eaten so I made Sausage Rolls. Not very adventurous I know but in previous years I have made, Shepherd’s Pie, and a Victoria Sponge, so had to think of something different. Of course I stupidly put on Facebook that I was doing Toad in the Hole, consequently there were some disappointed faces and questions but as they didn’t have a clue what Toad in the Hole was, Rospo nel Buco is the literal Google translation but goodness knows what the Italians would have made of that,. Anyone know the derivation of Toad in the Hole?

other food Romanian

Italian Salami

Italian Salami

This town is not very big, about 2000 people in Petritoli and the small towns of Valmir and Moregnano belonging to the same parish,  but 10% of those living here are foreigners and that 10% come from over twenty different countries. The food was brilliant, I always like the Mexican and the Albanian food. The Italians are not very gastronomically adventurous but those who attended the evening enjoyed it immensely and there were shouts of ‘complimenti’ all round. Having said that, the Italian friends we sat with ate the Italian food that they brought with them!

It was a successful evening with entertainment and of course a raffle with some great prizes, I won a jar of olives and a bottle of wine, not quite what I had my eye on but nevertheless a win is a win. Someone else won the dinner at Re Squarchio….(damn them).

My Raffle Prize

My Raffle Prize

Out on our deck in the town we can eat breakfast, lunch and dinner in the sun or shade. The view is stunning and I will never tire of the scene, beautiful Marche countryside rolling down to the sea, with Medieval hilltop towns dotted here and there. Lucky us.

viewAll three bars in Petritoli also have their tables out now. By the photos you would think they weren’t busy but that’s down to the time they were taken. At 6.30pm most evenings everyone is out taking a stroll (passeggiata), stopping for drinks and nibbles (aperitivi) or ice cream, (gelato) Chatting and passing the time of day with each other. It’s a wonderful way of life.

Tre Archi Bar

Tre Archi Bar

Fanny Bar

Fanny Bar

Crist'El Bar

Crist’El Bar

Festa De Le Cove… harvest festival Italian style…

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oxen

Oxen – Photograph courtesy of Giancarlo Fabiani

There are an inordinate number of festas (street parties/festivals) and sagras (usually to do with eating) happening all over Italy for most of the summer months. Wherever you go there will be people eating, dancing and drinking in small towns and villages all of them offering something traditional and steeped in history. In Petritoli we have several of these and the biggest is the Festa De Le Cove. It’s a harvest festival celebration of sorts. A whole weekend of fun.

Posh Mum and Dad

Posh Mum and Dad

Posh Daughter

Posh Daughter

The basic idea is that the people from the surrounding countryside, the ‘contadini’ (peasant farmers) come into the centre of town with offerings of grain for the ‘aristocracy’ the corn is blessed by the priest, the rich people leave the town giving the farmers the run of the place for the weekend. They have a ball, dancing, eating and drinking. Until they have to leave on the Sunday evening. I may not have got this exactly right but I’m sure someone out there will correct me if I’m widely missing the point. Today it’s symbolic the people don’t actually leave town – everyone joins in the festivities.

Contadini Family

Contadini Family

The festival culminates with a procession of floats which have the most amazing sculptures made from straw and corn. This year the procession was led by a magnificent pair of oxen pulling a cart full of sheaves of straw. (Cove is the word for sheaves.) Other floats included a scythe, a ladybird (lucky symbol here), a 10 lira coin and a model of the wonderful Petritoli Tower. There was also an old threshing machine on show, many stands selling local crafts. Here you can see a video of the procession and dancing. I hope the quality is okay…it took me about 4 hours to put it together and it’s my first attempt so don’t expect too much!

Food stands sold, pizzette (deep fried pizza base I think), roast goose, pasta, polenta, bruschetta and much more. Oh and plenty of wine of course!

A side street in the town

A side street in the town

The town is beautifully decorated and each year there’s a different theme, this year it was poppies and sunflowers. At the roundabouts and road junctions they put life size dummies made of straw – I love them!

man with fork Mr and Mrs

These two look like they've had a row!

These two look like they’ve had a row!

Everyone can dance the traditional Saltarello, they dance behind the floats, they dance in the square, the children and teenagers perform on the stage it’s a lively dance and it’s great fun but they never, never change the music! it’s the same from around 10am in the morning until they finally close down after midnight. By the end you cannot get the song out of your head and it inhibits sleep and stays with you for days! The vocals are interesting, if you can understand them! They make the words up as they go along. Often the lyrics are risqué, sung in the local dialect and directed to passers by and people sitting at tables. A couple of years ago I was the victim of the song and my Italian ‘friends’ fell about laughing, raising their eyebrows and thoroughly enjoying the joke of which I was obviously the centre but sadly, or perhaps gladly, I couldn’t understand one word.

ladybird

Ladybird – Photograph courtesy of Giancarlo Fabiani

scythe

Scythe – Photograph courtesy of Giancarlo Fabiani

bell tower

Petritoli Bell Tower – Photograph courtesy of Giancarlo Fabiani

Thank you Giancarlo Fabiani for some of the photographs this week. Giancarlo has an old printing press in the centre of Petritoli, it’s been in his family for many generations. I may blog about it one day as it’s very interesting.

I hope you’ve enjoyed reading this week’s blog and looking at the photos and video. I’m going to take a well earned rest in the afternoon sun. 🙂

Hammocks of Fun in the Evening Sun…

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Jpeg (the dog) and Me Chillin...

Jpeg (the dog)chillin – and Me trying to relax in the mended hammock …

Yesterday evening, I climbed into my hammock with my Ipad hoping to read at least five short stories. To my horror, the damn thing collapsed and I fell crashing to the ground, unhurt but a little shaken. (my derriere obviously has plenty of padding!) I felt really stupid, even though it clearly wasn’t my fault but I’m sure if anyone had seen me it would have been like watching a clip from ‘You’ve Been Framed.’ It’s possible that it happened because of the large amount of food I had consumed for my Sunday lunch (a great curry cooked by great friends). My husband assured me that it was the rope that anchored the hammock to the tree that was worn through and nothing to do with my extra pounds. If he knew why hadn’t he fixed it? Is he trying to suggest a plot for a story? hmmmm It’s one of those things that I always thought would happen to someone as they rested in the hammock but hoped it wouldn’t be me! I was coaxed back into it after my husband had fixed it but I’m nervous now!

Empty Hammock...safer from a distance.

Empty Hammock…safer from a distance.

I have been reading a great deal. Short stories, novels, magazines, online stuff. I have learnt during my first year of serious writing that if you want to be a good writer then reading is what you must do. Read everything, even genres you wouldn’t normally be interested in because it all helps to expand your knowledge and inspire your imagination.

Later this week I am going to take part in a writing course in Tuscany at Art Umbria it’s a week long course but I’m just joining for one day. I am really looking forward to it and hope it inspires me to keep going. The course is with Sue Moorcroft. I think it will be splendid!

I love going over to Tuscany as we visit our friends Linda and Alan, who live close to Cortona, a beautiful town and famous of course for ‘Under the Tuscan Sun’ written by Frances Mayes.

Right now, at this minute, I need to plant 20 lettuce that I bought the other day or they will die. After that  I can get back to reading in the hammock – on second thoughts perhaps I’ll stick to a sun bed.

gardenandhouse

Footnote:
‘The Man’ AKA my husband has been working very hard to get the garden and olive groves looking good for the summer. Last year he built a dry brick wall which is maturing well. However, I think over the next 3 weeks coverage of the Tour de France is taking priority…

Dry Brick Wall - built by The Man. Didn't he do Well?

Dry Brick Wall – built by The Man. Didn’t he do Well?

Families…

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Scan

On June 13th 2013 my brother, Tony Hatch, was in New York where he was inducted into the Songwriters Hall of Fame. When I was a very young girl we would have regular family evenings with Tony playing the piano and the rest of us singing. (That’s me on top of the piano in the photo above.) Often on a Sunday we would travel to Bedforshire to my mother’s sister where other aunts, uncles and cousins would arrive and we would all sit round a huge dining room table (it was a full size snooker table with a cover on it) and eat roast dinner cooked on her Aga. I remember the delicious sticky meringues she made for dessert. Of course we were lucky to have a relation with a large enough room to accommodate us all. After lunch all the kids would pile out into the garden to play. I lost contact with my cousins for some years but I’m glad to report that more recently we have been in touch again.

I think the Italian family is still a very strong unit. I was chatting the other day to an English friend and we commented on the style of housing here where there are many large properties, old and new, divided into two or three apartments. Instead of being occupied by different families these apartments house different generations of the same family; ground floor grandparents, first floor parents and younger children, top floor married son/daughter and their family. I haven’t researched this but I don’t think families in the UK would take to this mode of living but here it works very well. Babysitters are on hand and there is always help for the older generation without having to call in too much in the way of home help or putting older relations into homes unless absolutely necessary. Of course, they don’t always live together in harmony!

The typical Italian family here in Le Marche live a very close knit life, coming together on Sundays for church and massive family meals in large restaurants or each others houses. Many Italians don’t move far from home, particularly in the rural areas, although that could be changing as these days there is a need to travel further afield for work. In my capacity as English teacher I am always amazed at how many cousins are at school together, sometimes six or seven in the same class of twenty students. This reinforces my belief that Italian families stay close together.

Our family are now spread all over the world, New York, Singapore, Wales, England and extended family in New Zealand and other far flung places, but I’m pleased to say that when we get together there’s always someone to pick up a guitar, play the piano or the harmonica and everyone joins in with a song or two. We enjoy big family meals too! Haven’t quite mastered the technique for the meringues though.