Back to Le Marche…

If I’m honest, I wasn’t ready to return to Italy and our townhouse in Petritoli, not quite – I was still in honeymoon mode with Dorset and Bridport. But, once in the car and heading towards Poole to get the ferry to Cherbourg I became preoccupied with the ‘road trip’ and excited about travelling. I love a good road trip with the dog and The Man – we are all good travelling companions… something that The Man’s daughters could never quite understand… ‘you mean you’re going to spend five days in the car with…HIM? How could you do that?’ But, we rub along fine and always have plenty to talk about and when not talking we listen to audio books.

The ferry left Poole at 8.30 a.m. and we had to be there by 7.30 because of the dog, we decided to leave our little Dorset hamlet on Wednesday evening and stay the night at the Thistle Hotel, only a few minutes from the port. The weather was atrocious…rain falling in biblical proportions – very unpleasant. It was difficult to appreciate the close proximity of the hotel to the water until, also biblically, the sky cleared and sailing boats came into view… however, it only lasted long enough to walk the dog before bedtime.

Jpeg is a star traveller. She never complains and as long as she has her own bed, food and a chance to smell the local area, pee accordingly, then she will settle down anywhere, as long as we are there too. We have only been on Le Shuttle with her previously and the ferry was going to take 5 hours (should have been 4 but the French dock workers at Cherbourg were on strike so…). She was so good in the car. I gave her a herbal tablet to calm her down, (should have taken one myself) and thank goodness, they didn’t enforce the use of the muzzle…all that effort getting her used to it and then we didn’t need it. You’re allowed to visit your dog half way across the channel, which I did and taking advice from other experienced ferrying dog owners, I only crept up to look into the car without her seeing me. She was fine, sitting up looking out of the back window of the car across the blue, flat calm sea to the horizon. We were the last car parked, facing aft (get the nautical term?) and there was a wide opening through which she could see. I think she had a better view than we did.

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Leaving the ferry behind us for it’s return trip to England we headed for St Vaast La Hoogue – twinned with Bridport, which is of course our hometown in the UK at the moment. It was a pretty little place with plenty of still busy fishing boats, the main catch being oysters. We wandered around the town in the French sunshine and from one lookout point it was possible to see the age old fortifications of Vauban along the coast, erected in the 1690s.

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Utah Beach

The Man wanted to visit the Normandy Beaches, I was interested but knew little about D-day except for scant history lessons many *coughs loudly* years ago.

There are many D-day attractions (that doesn’t seem quite the right word) to visit but for The Man it was a must to go the Pegasus Bridge the sight of the first landings by glider and parachute. The museum was full of original artifacts, photographs and so much information I couldn’t take it all in. A film was shown in English which made things clearer for me. I came away at the end of two days knowing so much more about the occupation and the liberation of France. It was of course both moving and upsetting. All those young lives lost and what for?

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It broke my heart to read the headstones at the cemetery in Ranville just a few miles from the Pegasus Bridge. English, French, German, Irish, Canadians and more, the majority of them under twenty-five.

Because we had taken the early ferry we had plenty of time to wander down the coast before arriving at our first night’s accommodation in Courseulle Sur Mer where we stayed for two nights. A fabulous spacious apartment, all brand new it seemed. We had to get there before 8pm because everything was locked up at eight…unusual for a hotel/accommodation until you realise it was actually an old people’s home. Well, an establishment for the retired, Domitys La Plage de Nacre – check it out. Great food taken in the town square at La Pecherie – so good we ate there two nights running. We love French food.

Next stop was Cahors a 770 kilometre drive – we listened to one of our audio books, The Elephant to Hollywood, written and read by Michael Caine. We can recommend it – loved his voice and his manner of speaking, he even laughed at some of the stuff he’d written. We felt, after several hundred kilometres, that he had been travelling in the car with us in the back seat. He’s now my best friend.

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We arrived just after six and as it had been a long drive in dreadful weather, we thought we would eat in the restaurant attached to the hotel Terminus. It is a wonderful art deco building with furnishings and décor to suit. We should have guessed that it was not going to be an average meal when the barman turned out to be a sommelier, who’d written a book, with his son, (a chef) about local wines.

It was one of the best meals I have ever eaten, but the bill for food was twice that of the hotel room! I had a half bottle of Sancere with the meal and The Man had the best quality sparkling water, (he doesn’t drink alcohol you see).

We slept well that night which was just as well because the next hotel room in Carcassonne was not quite what we expected…

Approaching the medieval city of Carcassonne is the most amazing sight… from a distance that is. It appears in the midst of the green valley rising up above the trees, a Disneylike castle with turrets, arrow slits, high walls and well…really quite magical.

The satnav took us down some very narrow streets to the door of our ‘hotel’. It was outside the old city walls, but only a short distance for us to walk and discover the enchanted city, the situation was the best and only good thing about this accommodation.
First we had to unpack, take the dog for a quick look around and settle her down while we had lunch. We parked and carried our bags up the four flights of winding dark stairs into a garret apartment which smelled of drains – dirty ones at that. Not a good start.

Lunch was wonderful though, in a busy French Taverna serving Cassoulet – excellent. Fully satisfied we began our walk into the fairy-tale town and anticipate the best – always a mistake. The wind was blowing like a giant’s parp in a drainpipe, we could barely stand up, but we made it up the hill and in through the main gate, to discover that the outside of the castle is most definitely the best thing about it. Once inside the streets are full of swag shops, restaurants and little else. There was a torture museum which I cannot comment on because we didn’t go in. Street after street looking exactly the same. We searched for a tea shop selling fancy French pastries but couldn’t find anything so ended up in a restaurant having a cup of tea and apple tart with ice-cream (a dessert). There are only fifty permanent residents inside this town, according to the man in the only shop we entered where we bought a teapot…we like teapots.

 

The accommodation, Residence Saint Simon, in Carcassonne was truly dreadful and The Man has entered a review on Booking.com accordingly, but it’s still in moderation a week after writing it so I suspect it has been blocked by the owner.

The apartment was advertised with ‘toiletries supplied’ above is the sum total of those toiletries. Not even a bar of soap. Oh and the fridge had a welcome pack of stuff that were leftovers from the last visitors! 🙂

 

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Next stop, San Remo and we drove there via the Camargue. I tried to photograph the famous white horses but whenever there were plenty of them grazing I didn’t have my camera at the ready so you’ll have to make do with a couple in the distance. We only saw a few black bulls, also famous in the area, but we did see what looked like several rice fields and on investigation, discovered that they do indeed grow rice in the Camargue. We took a detour through Arles hoping to get a glimpse of the famous bridge painted by, among others, Van Gough, but we hated the town, the traffic and gave up looking for the bridge pretty quickly and drove on to Aigues Mortes where we picked up a coffee in the pretty square. A medieval walled town that we would definitely visit again when we have more time.

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Square in Aigues Mortes

San Remo was fantastic! We loved the place and it was 27degrees, sunny and friendly. Our apartment was superb, central, clean, modern and equipped with everything we could need for a one- night stay. The owner, Alessandro, could not have been more helpful and welcoming. He certainly knew how to treat a paying guest. We can recommend Colombo Apartments in Piazza Colombo, San Remo.

As usual the dog behaved impeccably, as mentioned before, she is the perfect traveller. Her only problem is little white poodles which, when she sees them, turn her from the placid fun loving dog into a teeth bared, growling monster (I exaggerate of course). I leave you to imagine what our evening stroll by the port in San Remo was like as every other dog was a white ball of fluff either tucked under the arm, in a handbag or prancing along the pavement in a taunting fashion…

We said goodbye to San Remo and Alessandro and set about getting back to Petritoli on the last leg of our journey. We only stopped to empty ourselves and the dog and take on more water, coffee and fuel – it was another 700k drive.

Happy to be back on her own turf, Jpeg rushed immediately out of the back door to chase the local cats as though she had never been away.

I hope you enjoy reading my blog – I certainly enjoy writing it.  You may like to know that I have published a collection of short stories, The Cherry Tree and Other Stories, available here from Amazon.co.uk

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Films…walks…films…

AshLane

Walking Across the Farmland – Public Footpaths and Bridleways

It’s been a busy few weeks here in Dorset. Lots of walks, eating, theatre and cinema going and plenty of…RAIN… ah well, you can’t have it all. I’m missing the sunshine and warmth of Italy, that I cannot deny but, the upside is that we have been fortunate in choosing a great place to live. In fact, last Friday in The Times, Bridport came second in a poll of the best places, by the sea to live in England. I’d like to put a link on here so that you can read it but, The Times won’t allow anyone to read anything without subscribing – so you’ll just have to take my word for it.

I am managing to walk everyday for a minimum of 2 kilometres and sometimes more, perhaps five or six. Jpeg and I take a different route each time we go out, there are so many public footpaths and bridleways around here. Last week we dropped The Man off to collect his bike from Symondsbury and he joined his mates for a bike ride…yes he does have mates. I took an hour-long walk, part of which was along The Hardy Way. I rarely meet anyone or any other dogs when I’m out walking but on this occasion we were close to Colmer’s Hill and bumped into several people who were on their way up or down this iconic Bridport landmark. It made me realise that in the summer months I’ll have to be careful where I choose to go, if I want our walks to remain peaceful and private…

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Colmer’s Hill

The Parish Council has been replacing the local signposts, including the one on our corner. So we discovered this week that the junction at the end of our road is Ebenezer Corner…

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I cross here often and go over the style into the field and walk to Pymore. This interesting little village was, I believe, once a Quaker village. There was a rope making factory here, the Bridport area was well known for it’s rope and net making…check it out here and find out about the Bridport Dagger, it’s interesting. The Bridport Museum is on our list for visiting but it only opened for the season a week or so ago.

But, back to Pymore…the village has been redeveloped – tastefully – the factory and buildings converted to apartments and houses and new places also built.

There is footpath which passes beside the reed bed and along the river Brit. Some of the houses are a little bit ‘toy townish’, but that’s just my opinion.

From the 30th March until the 3rd April, The Bridport Film Festival has been running, From Page to Screen  it’s been fantastic. Evening Screenings took place at The Electric Palace, which is an amazing vintage cinema from the 1920s Daytime screenings were shown at the Bridport Arts Centre. The Man and I went to see five films in four days and we loved it. Over the five days at least twenty films were screened, The Man and I managed to get to these:-

The Spy Who Came in from the Cold
Plein Soleil
A Month in the Country
The Big Short
The Lady in The Van

This is not a film reviewing blog so I’ll refrain from writing about each film. For me the whole experience of being able to get to the theatre in less than five minutes by car and see such a great selection of movies together with live interviews from producers, writers, actors etc., was a marvellous opportunity.

On Friday, A Month in the Country was shown at eleven in the morning and it was really strange coming out of the theatre at lunchtime. It put us out for the whole day and then in the evening we went to see The Big Short – two viewings in just less than twelve hours, a bit like a long haul flight.

The Director Charles Sturridge was the organiser of this year’s festival and did a wonderful job. He is of course a well-known director, the TV series Brideshead Revisited and the film a Handful of Dust (shown at this festival) to name just two productions. He certainly put together a great selection of films and arranged some interesting guest speakers, including Alex Jennings who played the part of Alan Bennett in The Lady in the Van and Claire Bloom, one of the stars in The Spy who came in from the Cold. She was at the Bridport Arts Centre for the screening and did a Q&A session at the end of the film. I hope that at 85 years old I will be as elegant and eloquent as she was.

Thank you Bridport Film Festival, Charles Sturridge and all the volunteers who helped the week run smoothly…you must all be exhausted.

For a moment, this week, I became a little nostalgic for my past life and wondered where I would be now had I pursued my career in the theatre…would I have been successful? Would I have risen through the actress ranks and now be rubbing shoulders with Judi Dench, Maggie Smith, Helen Mirren and all the other famous actresses of my generation (well I’m actually a teensy bit younger than most of them – I think)? What about all the gorgeous actors too? Ah well, it’s easy to dream but when I think about it, I do have a wonderful life, family friends etc., so probably took the right path. It’s never too late though – is it? Perhaps I’ll get a copy of The Stage next week and see what auditions I might be eligible for…

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Nah..too scary…on second thoughts I’d better stick to the writing…

And…here we are in Dorset…

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Wonderful crisp morning walk in the fields 

Olivespastavino is taking time out in England. You might wonder why I would choose to come to England at this time of year when the sun is shining in Le Marche, Italy and people are flocking to the beaches for lunch (but no ice-cream as it isn’t the season for it). The Man is also wondering why he’s here, as his most favourite thing to do is ride his road bike and since being in England the weather has been…shall we say…challenging?

I have enjoyed frosty morning walks with Jpeg who is getting to grips with the England language, rain, narrow muddy roads, horses, badger sets and sea gulls. I am getting a great deal of use out of my Wellington boots acquired on our last visit back in October and I’ve had to add a pair of waterproof trousers to my wardrobe.

Since I’ve been here I have rediscovered the joys of the English pub lunch, pub quiz and pub darts. I have not seen a single pasta meal on any pub menu, but pies, fish and chips or curry are regular daily specials on the chalkboard.

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Cottage Pie…good English pub grub

I’ve enjoyed visiting the farm shops, Felicity’s Farm Shop   and Washingpool Farm Shop and buying fresh farm grown vegetables, organic meat, eggs, milk etc.,

Bridport, our closest town is thriving, it has a market twice a week, lots of book shops, antique and second hand shops, cafes pubs and more.  The Man thinks the town stays busy because there is no ‘out-of-town’ shopping mall (thank goodness). More about Bridport on the next blog post.

The banks are full of daffodils and wild primroses. It makes me smile to see them.

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Italy and England are diverse in terms of climate, culture and cuisine…

The people in Dorset have welcomed us with smiles and encouraging words, they couldn’t be more helpful…and it was the same when we arrived in Italy some years back…the only difference is I don’t have to a phrase book here.

The coastline here is fantastic…the Jurassic Coast, where you can find a fossil with every footstep you take. It was a bit windy the day we went…

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Rough sea. A bracing walk along the beach.

I have enjoyed the close proximity to London – well not that close but two hours and fifteen minutes on the train.  About the same time it takes to fly from Ancona to Stansted, but then there’s a lot of hanging about and checking in, boarding, walking, customs, passports etc., etc., it’s much easier to hop on a train.  Our closest station is Crewkerne, it’s a country station which could be used as a film set for the Victorian era with only a few alterations.  I love it.  There’s only one platform in use, so it’s impossible to get lost but I suppose you could get on a train going in the wrong direction if you’ve left your sense of direction at home.

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And finally, The Man has a shed in which to keep his bike when it’s not in use, which seems to be most of the time right now. That’s a bit mean of me, he did go out today for an hour and a half, in search of a Roman road which sadly he didn’t find – he did bring back enough mud on the bike to pot up a few plants though, so it wasn’t a wasted trip.

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I haven’t turned my back on Italy – far from it, but when I go back (which will be often) I want to be a tourist.

The Walking Singers…

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The Walking Singers – John, Paolo, Anna-maria, Cristina, Me, Monia, Tiziana and Bernadetta.  (I may have spelt some of the names wrong, please fogive me.) Eugenio and Barbara are missing from this photo but we musn’t leave them out!

‘Would you like to join our Christmas singing group?’ asked my Canadian/Italian friend Tiziana back in November. ‘This will be our third year and it’s just good fun, mostly the group are Italians and we sing Christmas songs.’

I love singing, I take after my mother, she always had a song suitable for every occasion. My friend Linda is also the same…at any time she’ll burst into song after you have said something like… ‘good morning’…she’ll start,

Good morning, good morning
We’ve talked the whole night through
Good morning good morning to you… etc., Gene Kelly version I think.

I don’t want to turn into my mother, or Linda in fact but it is great to sing. It makes you feel good, something to do with endorphins I expect…I do sing, intermittently throughout everyday and if I don’t, then The Man thinks there’s something wrong with me.

Back to the Christmas choir then. I accepted the invitation and joined the choir with seasonal glee…(*groan*)

There were about four rehearsals usually a 9pm start but as most of the group were Italian they actually began somewhere between 9.30pm and 10pm. They were/are a lovely bunch of people but for the first three sessions, there was only a core of about four people who remained the same! Numbers kept changing and I had to try and remember so many different names.

Our song list contained most of the popular songs, Rudolf the Red Nosed Reindeer, (for which we donned red noses of course), Santa Claus is Coming to Town, Jingle Bell Rock and several more. Imagine was the favourite with the Italian audiences…we had to sing it twice when we performed at the old people’s home in Petritoli. Fairytale of New York proved to be a hard one to come to grips with but we managed it in the end – I love that song – we couldn’t have managed it without John Healy on guitar…or could we? hmm. Happy Christmas (War is Over) was equally popular and quite emotional to sing. It seems every year it is topical, sadly.

The name of the group is, The Walking Singers, it came about not because they walk at the same time as singing but because the first year they performed they sang in a piazza in Fermo then walked a bit and sang in a different piazza, then another little stroll and a little sing, and so it went on. This year, we did actually sing and walk at the same time and as we strolled through the streets, shop doors opened, people wished us well, smiled and looked happy. We were spreading goodwill in abundance and it felt good.

So, 2015 saw three performances one at the Casa di Riposo (old people’s home) in Petritoli; one outside Bar Primavera in Fermo (we were given vino brule, which is mulled wine, it certainly helped oil the vocal tubes. The final singing event was on Christmas Eve and took place under the Christmas tree in the big Piazza del Popolo in Fermo town. The atmosphere was…well…Christmassy…with a skating rink set up in the middle of the square, lots of twinkly lights, stalls selling Christmas tack bric-a-brac, children playing, bells ringing…all very nostalgic and magical until we started singing…J Only joking. The crowds gathered to listen, we sang our hearts out and even The Man joined in. His contribution was to play the tambourine with skill and passion especially in We Wish you A Merry Christmas…we never did get any figgy pudding though!

 

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Olivespastavino, complete with red nose. Not that I needed one really as the actual nose was pretty scarlet at the time! (I’m looking very keen)

Happy New Year! Good wishes for 2016 to all.

Father Christmas has moved in next door…

I know where Father Christmas is living and its NOT Lappland…

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I saw through the window, on the street outside, a workmen setting up some electricity in the house next door. (He was taking it from the street light…hmmm) It’s a tiny house which has been empty for several years. I’ve been inside only once. The ground floor is one small room with a traditional Marche fireplace. It’s a perfect grotto for Father Christmas and that’s exactly what has happened.

Babbo Natale has ‘moved in’ for the duration of the Christmas period so that the children of Petritoli can come and visit him – (only during opening hours which seem to be a bit limited!)

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I am living next door to FC – how wonderful! What a pity my granddaughter isn’t here to see him, she’s thousands of miles away in New York. Still, I expect Santa will be delivering there too, but he won’t be living next door!

I was so excited I just had to tweet about it and imagine my surprise when Father Christmas himself replied to my tweet! See below…

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Happy Holidays Father Christmas…See you around in Petritoli…

Olive Harvest…

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This year has seen a bumper olive harvest. The trees were laden with so many olives that sometimes they looked like bunches of grapes. To those of you who have never picked olives and imagine it’s living the dream – it’s not. But having said that, the first two weeks, with help from friends, the sun shining and the trees of a reasonable height then yes, it is magical. But it’s not so great by the time you get into week four.  The friends have gone home and you’re left with a hardened core of pickers. The weather has cooled as much as the enthusiasm, only the big trees are left to pick and each one taking up to two and a half hours with four people picking. One tree yielded 140 kilos…Amazing. Not as much as this one though – largest olive tree in Italy . The Man thought there was a bigger one in Sicily, but I can’t find that. If you know about it please tell us.

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14 ten kilo boxes from one tree!

Don’t ever ask The Man to cut your hair – if the way he prunes an olive tree is anything to go by then you would be lucky to be left with a strand or two.

From the lips of the local farmers, there’s a great deal of advice about planting, pruning, picking and pressing olives. It’s always contradictory advice too, one man telling you one thing and his friend/wife disagreeing. We’ve listened to it all, The Man and I. We’ve read books and researched the Internet, basically you end up doing your own thing and for us that can’t have been bad because – friends and family, we’ve picked tons of olives (3 tons in fact) and consequently many litres of oil this year. It is certainly worth the hard work.  I have never tasted any oil so delicious as the freshly pressed virgin oil from the newly picked organic olives. We’re not registered organic but the trees are not treated in anyway. They grow and flourish, only by drawing nourishment from the rain and sun… and a bit of love of course.

Before I came to Italy I had no idea that olive oil could be so good. It’s labour intensive to harvest and as The Man always points out, when you buy olive oil from the supermarkets for under €10 a litre then it cannot be good stuff.  There has been much controversy in the press about big oil companies cheating and mixing the oil but I don’t know enough to go into all that here.  All I know for certain is that our olive oil is wonderful.

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Fresh green beautiful oil….

Olivespastavino will be going to England in the New Year so if you’re good to me and I bump into you, then maybe you’ll get a drop or two.

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Coffee time in le Marche sunshine in November !

By the way, there’s a great deal of talking goes on around each tree during picking and I’m tempted to make notes or record the conversations because they are so diverse. Subjects range from basic recipes, shopping, best and worst restaurants, expats you love or hate, religion, politics, healthcare in Italy v other countries, tax systems… I could go on forever and so did some of the discussions. I’ve taken to sitting on a box while I lovingly strip the olives from the branches either with a rake or my gloved hands listening with interest to those declaiming and joining in as and when I can – I’m not so good in the sport category but streets ahead in the useless bits of information section.

 

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Stripping the cut branches of their olives. I’m standing up, but only for the photo.

Trip to England…family…friends…fabulous…

Beautiful English Countryside

Beautiful English Countryside

I know you’ve all been dying to know how we got on with the cat and the dog on our drive to England from Italy.
Well…it is not something that I would wish to repeat – at least not with the cat who miaowed for most of the 1200 miles (poor chap) but took less than twenty-four hours to settle in his new home in Essex where he is being thoroughly spoilt!

Mickey, settled in Leigh on sea, looks as though he's been there forever!

Mickey, settled in Leigh on sea. He looks as though he’s been there forever!

We were full up with luggage and at one point Jpeg did try to get on top of it all so that she could be closer to us!

Our little polo packed full...only a tiny space left for Jpeg

Our little polo packed full…only a tiny space left for Jpeg

Jpeg on top of the luggage...poor dog

Jpeg on top of the luggage…poor dog

Most of the stress of the trip was caused by the fact that our Italian vet wrote the wrong date on the animal passports for their last check and the dog’s worm tablet which had to be no less than 24 hours before entering the UK and no more than120 hours, a big enough margin but of course he had to make a balls up of it – and he also omitted to put in the time but wrote next year’s date instead! Goodness knows why. When I realised his mistake I called him and he just said, ‘change it, it’s no problem.’ But of course I did think it was a problem and I was convinced that the dog and cat would be impounded at Calais because I had tampered with the passports. I couldn’t sleep a wink the night before we left and had little rest on our two nights en route. First night in Aosta, second in St Quentin.

Mickey taking it easy with The Man in our hotel in San Quentin

Mickey taking it easy with The Man in our hotel in St Quentin

As it happened everything went well at Calais, but I was so nervous I couldn’t get the scanner to work and read the animal’s microchips, particularly the cat who was absolutely terrified when I lifted off the lid of his box and a stupid man with a huge black Labrador allowed said Labrador to put his humungous nose up the cat’s bottom!‘I’ve got a cat here!’ I shouted but he was an ignorant self-important man who ignored my obvious distress and went about his own business not caring what happened to me or my cat. The French animal immigration lady tried to remain calm but obviously thought she was dealing with an idiot (me) so she spoke loudly and slowly,
‘You are doing eet wrong. You must make ze circle movement over ze shoulders of ze animal, you are not following my instruction!’  I bloody well was following her instructions – I needed help, where was The Man when needed? Thankfully, he was close by and able to   hold the dog while I got the hang of the scanning machine.

Relaxing at Calais after arduous scanning at 'animal passport control'

Relaxing at Calais after arduous scanning at ‘animal passport control’

Travelling with the cat and the dog was bad enough, but imagine taking a ferret?  It must be quite a popular animal to take abroad because they even have a tick box dedicated to them on the pass for your car window. We didn’t see a single ferret – or horse for that matter, but they would be a little difficult to smuggle in one would imagine.

1 dog, 1 cat, no ferret (although you could be forgiven for thinking the ferret box had a positive tick!)

1 dog, 1 cat, no ferret (although you could be forgiven for thinking the ferret box had a positive tick!)

The dog was as good as gold throughout the whole of the journey, jumping in and out of the car no problem.  She seemed to loved England, all those different smells and no problem with the language.  During October she slept in several different locations and as long as she had her bed, her food and we were close by she never made any fuss. For five days we left her with friends in Bristol and we were told that she behaved impeccably – although when we went to collect her there was no way she was going to  let us out of her sight or out of any door without her!

Picnic at Ashton Court Bristol - Jpeg loved it!

Picnic at Ashton Court Bristol – Jpeg loved it!

Jpeg's friend Luca in Devon

Jpeg’s friend Luca in Devon (and his owner Caroline)

It was wonderful to be back in England seeing friends and family. We visited, Dorset, Devon, Bristol and of course Essex where we left Mickey the cat. Although travelling around for nearly 4 weeks, I didn’t manage to catch up with everyone – it’s impossible. But we’re hoping to be back again in early 2016.

The Edge of the Cliff in Dorset - The Jurassic Coast

The Edge of the Cliff in Dorset – The Jurassic Coast

The Man enjoying the Coastal Path

The Man enjoying the Coastal Path

We drove all over dorset and couldn’t believe how many public footpaths there were.  In Italy you are free to roam almost anywhere but I think the walks in Devon, Dorset and probably most of the West Country, might take a lot of beating.

Dorset Pigs seen on our walk along a public footpath

Dorset Pigs seen on our walk along a public footpath

Of the small towns we visited Beaminster (pronounced Bemster) was one of our favourites – and I discovered my cousin lives there so we met up with him and his wife for lunch in Bridport, a lovely Dorset town full of bookshops, antique shops, craft shops and tea shops!

The Square in Beaminster

The Square in Beaminster

Some of the other things we did in England…

  1. Went to the cinema to see live screening of Giselle by the Bolshoi.
  2. Ate pub lunches.
  3. Walked miles down public footpaths.
  4. Went to a two-book launch in Exeter,  Sophie Duffy‘s Bright Stars and Cathie Hartigan’s  Secret of the Song. Have read Sophie’s and can highly recommend it-great read. Have only just started on Cathie’s so will let you know how it goes – it’s a good beginning anyway!
  5. Went to London and saw Sarah Mayhew and Sadie Hasler (Old Trunk Theatre Co) in their production ‘Pramkicker’ – fantastic! Superb script and brilliant acting from two very talented actors.
  6. Met my brother and his wife  for dinner in London – we’re managing it almost yearly now!
  7. Also met up with my sister in Thames Ditton…she had been poorly and in hospital so a timely visit. She’s better now though…at least she’s supporting the bar at the local pub again so she must be okay!

I hope you like this small collections of photographs from our visit. Whilst in England I celebrated my 65th birthday with family and friends, naturally my lovely granddaughter  (all the way from New York!) had to blow out the candles on my cup cakes. (Why didn’t anyone tell me I had a silly tuft of hair sticking up on the top of my head?)

Blowing out the candles

Blowing out the candles

On a more poignant note, our family came together from around the world and one morning we scattered the ashes of my lovely son Tosh who died in 2011 in a tragic accident. Now there is somewhere for his extended family and his friends to pay their respects if they wish. A beautiful plaque in the garden of remembrance two, in Arnos Grove Cemetery, Bristol. I’m looking forward to visiting it often.

Tosh Plaque

It’s olive picking time again in Italy so plenty to get on with now we’re back and…the sun is shining! Yeah!

Pet Passports Please…?

Passports

We did eventually get passports and photos…scroll down to see the fun we had before achieving this!

The Man and I are going to drive to England in October and stay for a month…and…we decided that the animals, one cat, one dog could come with us Yeah!
‘All we (I) had to do was get them a passport each and then they can travel anywhere in the EU. ‘It’ll be easy,’ I said.

First I bought a carrier for the cat, nothing too small because I don’t want him to have to spend 20hours cramped up.
I read that you could buy a spray and use it in the carrier fifteen minutes before travelling. The last time Mickey had been in the box he was NOT happy. So we duly sprayed the box and drove him twenty minutes to the vet. He only miaowed a little bit on the way so we figured the magic potion worked.
I didn’t stay in the room while Mickey had a chip inserted and two injections one for rabies and one for cat flue. But The Man said he was a star, never made the slightest murmur – once they had prised him out of the box. (Which by the way was too big to sit on the Vet’s examination table).

Jpeg (the dog) had already got the chip and distemper jabs so she only needed the rabies – she was a real wuss and tried to escape the kindly vet’s hypodermic syringe by winding herself around my legs. It’s a wonder I didn’t get the rabies jab.

So everybody ready…now for the passports.

I went to the local hospital in Petritoli on a Saturday morning. On the door, which says VETERINARIO quite clearly there are the opening times. (I’ve written it all in English)

Saturday 8.30 – 9.30
Thursday 8.30 – 9.30 For enquiries phone the vet on ********(with the number)

So I called the number because I was there, in front of the door at 9.00 and it was locked and not a soul around.
The conversation went something like this,‘I’m at the hospital, I need two passports for the dog and the cat but there is no one here,’
‘No, it’s closed on Saturday.’
‘But it says open on the door’
‘Oh take no notice of that. Anyway, you need to go round the corner by the church, that’s where the office is. You could try Tuesday at 8 in the morning.’
‘So, Tuesday at 8, right fine thank you.’

I walked around the corner by the church but couldn’t find anything, so assumed I had misunderstood. Tuesday morning I went back to the door which said it was the vet’s door but of course no-one there so I came home and called the office in Fermo, the county town. She gave me the opening hours during the week, I then asked where I should go,

‘Where are you?’ she asked.
‘Petritoli.’ I replied.
‘Ah,’ she said.
The music came on the phone and I waited…

‘Pronto?’ said the voice on the phone (pronto is how they answer the phone – I don’t know why because it means ‘ready’).
It transpired that they had put me through to the Petritoli office.
‘Oh,’ I said, ‘but you’re not open.’
‘We are if you come immediately.’
‘Where ARE you?’ I asked.
‘Come into the hospital, through the main entrance and we’re on the right.’
‘But I’ve just been there, five minutes ago and there’s no one there.’
‘I am here, come now.’

So I did, but the bloody door was closed! I searched and shouted and rang the bell – nothing.
I asked a cleaning lady and she took me by the hand, led me outside, round the corner of the building to an obscure door, I couldn’t see a sign but there must have been one. I entered…
Happiness…she was there, the women I needed, at last I could obtain the passports….Hoorah!

Dog first…

‘Name?’
‘Jpeg.’
‘No, your name.’
‘Sorry, Ninette….’ Etc.,
‘Now for the dog. Name?’
‘Jpeg.’
‘Masculine of feminine?’
‘Female, we say bitch, but that’s not a nice word really.’
‘Excuse me?’
‘Nothing, it’s okay.’
‘Breed?’
‘Don’t know’
‘Let’s put mixed breed then.’
‘Okay.’
‘Date of birth?’
‘Don’t know but she was a tiny puppy in 2009 and she found us so we had to keep her.’
‘Colour?’
‘Not sure, brownish.’
‘Long nose or short nose?’
‘Shall I just show you a picture?’
‘Yes, thank you.’

Then the cat…

‘Name?’
‘Mickey.’
‘Masculine or feminine?’
‘Masculine but he’s been, you know…done?’
‘Okay, maschio, castratato.’
‘Oh poor Mickey, imagine having that written on your passport.’
‘Date of Birth?’
‘Don’t know but he’s the same year as the dog.’
‘Breed?’
‘Don’t know.’
‘I’ll put European.’
‘Okay.’
‘Colour?’
‘Ooh, I can answer this one! We say ginger but you say red. I can show you a photo of him too if you like?’

After three quarters of an hour and only 20€ later I had the two pet passports in my hand. We had great fun taking the photos as you can see…

What do you want now

What Passport photo-

Expression

My best sideHow about a little blingsunglasses and false teeth copy

Is this better-

Too Close

Spot the Tomato…

Spot the Tomato!

Spot the Tomato!

At the back of our house is a little bit of waste ground that nobody bothers about so The Man decided he would make it a project and set about improving the look of it. He made terraces using some wooden beams taken from the roof when we made a roof terrace and arranged a wine press ( an old one that we don’t use) in an artistic way, threw in a couple of green vintage wine demijohns (even more artistic) – put down some paving and gravel. The Man generally made a rather good job of it and proudly announces to everyone, ‘I did all this without spending hardly any money, only hard labour and all the materials are recycled. I only spent €10 on screws!’

garden

I was in charge of filling the beds so I bought lots of rosemary plants, lavender, sage and other herbs. Then I decided to put in a couple of tomato plants. Yeah what a good idea. I thought I’d bought those cherry ones and looked forward to lots of little red jewels to put on our salad.

Everyone grows tomatoes here without any problem. I watered and fed them and they grew like triffids…amazing! They grew huge and are taking over the whole of the area but they are devoid of tomatoes – or are they? I have now spotted one or two but they are the buffalo variety – shock horror – where are my dainty little gems? Sadly they are taking a long time to get to anything like the right size for picking and as for going red…hmm – I think I’ll be making a lot of green tomato chutney this autumn.

Spotted one tomato...

Spotted! One tomato…

I had also put in some strawberry plants which did quite well and look as though they’re spreading well so next year there should be a better crop – if only I can stop the cat and dog using that particular area as their toilet. Not sure if it improves the taste of the strawberries as I was rather put off trying them…

On a brighter note, my flowers have done extremely well this year and I’m very proud of my cascading petunias, a wonderful burst of colour – aren’t I clever?

Petunia you adorable lady, well done!

Petunia – you adorable lady, well done!

And – I hope I don’t speak too soon – I have six oranges on my little tree, with a bit of luck they’ll be ready for Christmas!

Oranges...(or greens as they are at the moment)

Oranges…(or greens as they are at the moment)

Holidays…

Sunflowers

Sunflowers

My last blog was all about our journey through France to England in July. Just to keep you updated, I stayed in the UK for just over a week during which I managed to take part in a 90th birthday celebration in Kenilworth, visited my good friend Maralyn in Devon and attended the Romantic Novelists’ Association Conference in London – I am a member but as yet have not finished my first novel. I am on the New Writer’s Scheme and need to get my manuscript in for appraisal before the 31st August 2015, Yikes! It was a fabulous conference.

Happy 90th Grannie...looking good!

Happy 90th Grannie…looking good

I returned to Petritoli energized and refreshed and brought back with me a couple of guests, The Man’s sister and brother-in-law. We spent the following week going to the beach, eating out and doing a little bit of sightseeing. The beaches here are safe, clean and if you steer clear of the big resorts then the smaller ones are not overcrowded. We favour, Pedaso, with Il Faro restaurant for great seafood dishes, particularly the mussels. In August Pedaso have their mussel festival but we didn’t make it this year. Perhaps next.

Blue Skies on the beach at Pedaso

Blue Skies on the beach at Pedaso

Prawns and Zucchini...Il Faro Restaurant (this is just the starter!)

Prawns and Zucchini…Il Faro Restaurant (this is just the starter!)

After sis and bro-in-law left, The Man and I took a three-week holiday with more family. I expect you’re thinking our whole life is a holiday but it’s not – honest – only the last couple of months might seem like it.

And Relax....

And Relax….

Cuprapedalo

The sea at Cupra…Pedalo in the distance…(you may need glasses)

For part of July and August while the family came to stay, (my daughter, her husband and our granddaughter and my two sons), we rented a house with a pool, 4k from Petritoli in a small place called Montevidon Combate. The temperatures for the period rocketed. It never really dropping below 30 degrees and much of the time it was way up close to 40 so the pool was a marvellous thing to have.

The Man and I did nothing too strenuous, we left the others to take a few days out on the beach at Cupra Marittima, hiring pedalos and being energetic. We also opted out of the visit to the evening market in Fermo choosing instead to babysit for our granddaughter. The joys of grandparenting – you’ve heard it said many a time before I’m sure – much more enjoyable than you r own kids as you can hand them over when the parents return! She was a delight and quite the water
baby, in the pool everyday.

Fun in the Pool

Fun in the Pool

It was lovely to spend time with the family and to recharge our batteries even though we were only a stone’s throw from Petritoli. However, after three weeks away we were ready to return to life in the town, our own bed and the comforts and familiarities that can only be found in one’s own home.

holidaypool

Have you taken a holiday yet this year?