I was starting to worry that my thyroid was malfunctioning again today as I felt quite a deep tiredness in my head that I couldn't shake all morning, but by the time I'd screwed the bike shed to its base and then made two trips to the bins, the tiredness had started to lift a little. The two trips to the bins entailed disposing of the piles (and piles) of excess kitchenware we had removed from the apartment and a pile of windows and doors that the previous owners had acquired and left leaning up against the outside of the woodshed. The doors and windows were a bit of a mish mash of parts - some double glazed units with aluminium frames, and a couple with cracked glass. I couldn't see what we could ever use them for as they were hardly Tuscan in style, and we're sure we couldn't get away with recycling them for use in the new extension (besides which, they were too grotty for that). We did keep one louvred door, which I'll fit to the man cave when that gets a face lift sometime over the next year.
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| A car full of doors and windows. |
By the time I'd done the two trips to the bins it was 12:30, we had run out of drinking water and I had no bread - we had little else actually, as we had put off the idea of shopping for a day or two longer than planned. I could get some basics from Amanda's alimentari in the village but I had no change and I didn't think she would thank me for using a €50 note to buy just bread and water. (Our friendship is still in its infancy and we like her a lot, so don't want to ruin it at such an early stage. You might think I'm making a mountain out of a €50 molehill, but honestly, they really seem to have an issue with small change here - they either don't want the very small stuff or don't have enough of the €1-2 coins. It's common for the staff in the supermarket to refuse exact change when it includes a 2 cent coin, and at the weekend when we only had notes to pay with, the waiter rounded our bill down so that he didn't have to give us coins. I could go on, but I think you get the idea.)
So there was nothing else for it but, a trip into Pescia to the supermarket with rumbling stomachs. Ignoring the golden rule that you should never shop on an empty stomach, our budget-conscious minds managed to overrule the rumbling stomachs and we restrained ourselves to a 'normal' shop. We also discovered that our friend Sue was spot on when she told us that 1pm is the best time to go to the supermarket - the place is QUIET, there are no queues and only a few people milling around the aisles. We've agreed that 1pm will be our regular supermarket shopping slot from now on.
On the way back we saw what we now know to be a regular Tuesday occurrence: a small market along the opposite side of the river. The main market in Pescia is on Saturdays - that's when the square is closed to traffic and the town fills with people - but this is a much smaller affair, with maybe 7 or 8 stalls. We've learnt that this is a market for local residents - not just in the capacity of customers, but also as vendors. It seems that you can just turn up with your ID card (I say 'just', we're still trying to acquire ours...) and have yourself a stall. Most of the stuff for sale seems to be edible (probably the over production from people's gardens) but other stuff is on offer as well. It could be a great place for us to try selling our wares when/if ever we get in a position to make them (ha!).
By the time we arrived home, the day was ticking by quickly, so we had a swift lunch. After lunch I was feeling much brighter, so I donned the strimmer and went to continue work on Goose Island, Goose Hill would be a more appropriate name, but nobody makes a really good modern-style Indian Pale Ale by that name (or even a bad one for that matter).
The more we clear by strimming, the more we can make sense of exactly where to fence off the aforementioned Goose Island, and after Helen's strimming at the weekend, we could really see what we were working to. The last few metres of each terrace are going to be hard work as I don't think they've been touched for years (we've now crossed the line up to which they were maintained previously), but still, we're close enough now to feel really motivated again - and the clearing has revealed that the terraces, which are really nice and wide, continue a fair way round.
It was a warm afternoon, with the occasional rain shower, but there was little else of note to mention, just me strimming and raking outdoors with the occasional stop to re-fuel the strimmer and to drink gallons of water. The only thing worth mentioning, I guess, was the discovery of yet more rubbish higher up on the terraces. Just when you thought you'd cleared it all out, this turns up...
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| Just a small dish, hidden in the bracken. |
Just after the church bell chimed 6pm, Helen appeared and offered to put in an hour's hard labour. I think if she'd seen the enormous pile of cuttings I'd made behind the house she might have been less keen (who am I kidding, course she wouldn't, that comment was just for effect). So once I'd finished adding to the pile with the last of my day's cuttings I retired indoors to blog while my wife finished moving the small-car-sized pile of bramble, grass, bracken and acacia across the driveway and down the hill.
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| Before. |
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| After. |
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