Midweek! How time flies when you're working to a deadline!

It was quite damp and cool in the mountains yesterday evening - in fact, the weather was so grotty that we couldn't watch the Tour de France via our satellite Internet link, so it was back to our box set of Scrubs in Italian with English subtitles.

The unsettled weather did mean that the bedroom was a good 4°C cooler though, so a good night's sleep was had by both of us (although I'm sure I slept better than Helen, it's a rare thing indeed that it's the other way around).

After breakfast, I scanned and emailed our latest water bills (received in yesterday's post) to Andrea, the geometra. We'd not yet heard from him about the other five or six bills we emailed at the weekend, but we have faith he'll be in touch when he finds time. I know he's somewhat busy as he happens to be working on the legal battles involved in the same house as I've been working at in Lanciole, and as that is going through the courts at the moment, no doubt he's having be careful to cross all of the t's and probably even add extra dots to some of the i's.

After that little bit of admin, I left Helen indoors at her desk while I went to play with my new toy in the shape of the multi-function hedge trimmers/strimmer.

However, within half an hour of filling up with fuel I was having technical difficulties - the trimmer blades stopped moving despite the engine revving. Brilliant! Less than 18 hours since we had collected this professional-grade equipment, having decided to invest hundreds of euros in something decent, it was broken!

I stomped up to the house to get the car keys and headed for the shop we bought it from, wondering how to explain the fault and what might be the outcome, never mind what he'd think of the English guy not being able to operate a simple bit of machinery.

When I arrived, there seemed to be a queue - one guy was having his chainsaw fixed, another old chap was buying a bottle of gas and generally annoying one of the mechanics, and a professional gardener seemed to be having not only his mower serviced but both his strimmer as well.

The chap I saw yesterday looked up and saw me when I arrived, smiled, and managed to ask what was wrong in reasonable English. I can't decide if his English is better than my Italian, but between us we seem to communicate well enough in this context. I told him that everything had been fine for half an hour and then it stopped. At that, he went back to the job he was working on while I admired the large vegetable garden next door. It looked like a one-man operation, albeit a very time-consuming one, but he was growing more than any family could consume, so I pondered what happened to the excess while I played with the kitten we had met yesterday.

Allotment envy.

While I was waiting, I phoned the house to speak to Helen - I wanted her to try to call me to see if we now had outgoing communications (since paying the outstanding Telecom Italia bill yesterday). I tried calling my mobile this morning from the house phone, and seemed to get my voice mail, so wanted to double check. I had some difficulty in getting through, it seemed to ring once then go silent, which seems to be new thing the house phone is doing - it rings once then stops before you can get to it - but my mobile would have me believe that I was connected. Anyway, after four attempts I got through and Helen was able to call me back. Good news! Outgoing calls sorted... hopefully! (Just as long as on the 11th, the transfer to a Vodafone landline doesn't still go through and cut us dead - I found out last week that despite having signed up for a Vodafone landline, it won't actually work without a mobile signal. If only the sales lady I spent half an hour talking to the other week had mentioned this small detail I could have put a stop to it on the spot! All part of the fun I suppose, and I was assured when I spoke to Vodafone last week that they would cancel the contract...)

When I put the phone down to Helen, Norberto was just picking up my machine and connecting the tagliasiepe (hedge trimmer) so that he could test it. I was watching through one eye, as I fully expected it to work first time and for me to be left looking like a bit of a fool. I was pleased,therefore, when it still didn't work - at which point Norberto displayed a puzzled face and said 'strano' ('strange'). Brilliant, we were on the same page - although that was not quite the word that had first popped into in my head when it stopped working.

He disconnected the flexible section of hose that connects the rigid handle, pole and tool to the motor and the backpack, and instantly revealed the problem. I'm no mechanic, but even I could tell that the flexible drive shaft had twisted and snapped.

Snapped drive shaft. This should be a meter long.

He seemed quite annoyed by this, and seemed to think that either I had tried to cut trees down with it, or else cut metal. I assured him that I used a saw for large wood, and had only been cutting grass and rovo (bramble). He scratched his head. I  told him I understood that a lot of stress had caused the failure, and that I would go home a have a look to see what it was I could have hit. He fitted a new drive shaft and only charged me €15 - I think he said normally it would cost €35. We said our goodbyes, and he even remembered my name, which I was surprised by as there seems to be nothing similar to it in Italian, so assumed it would have been easy to forget.

By the time I got home it was almost noon. I was disappointed to say the least that I'd lost half a day, but I tried to stay philosophical in that our plan of buying from someone local, who would provide servicing and repairs when we needed, had already paid off.

After tomato bruschetta on the patio it was back to work. I refuelled the motor and went back down to the terrace and spent about 3-4 hours either tentatively trimming, trying to ensure I didn't end up back at the shop again, or running up the steps to house to avoid the heavy downpours that kept coming when I least needed them. My patience was being tested to breaking point, and I almost threw the towel in mid-afternoon, but I stuck it out until almost 5pm when I ran out of fuel and felt I'd made a respectable dent in it.

Before.

Party-way through - a pair of ladders hiding in the undergrowth. (The possible culprit for the snapped drive shaft?)

After! (A huge difference.)

A brand new view of the house.

During one of my retreats from the rain I picked up a message from Summit Cycling, a group that runs cycling holidays/training in Tuscany. I'd followed them on Twitter recently and they had duly returned the favour, but they were now contacting us to see if we would be interested in a some form of collaboration. Discussion is ongoing, and we may not have enough space for the size of groups they usually work with, but watch this space.

So another day done, and another day closer to our guests and (I hope!) the kitchen arriving. I can see another trip to Mercatone Uno on the cards this weekend!

The weather seemed to be calming down earlier, but the rain has started up again, and the thunder is back - so it may be another night without being able to watch the Tour! I hope not! Better get this post published before the Internet drops out...