Home Alone 2...

...Anything Macaulay Culkin can do, I can do too - although I hasten to add that the similarities begin and end with the title of this post.

Yes, this week I have been left to take care of things at the homestead (and more to the point the menagerie) once again while Stuart has been back to the UK for his friend Dodge's wedding. I was very sad not to have been able to go to the wedding - Dodge and Rowan are a fantastic couple and over the six or so years that he has known him, Dodge has been Stuart's workmate, fellow politics ranter, eco-warrier and old skool rave tunes singer, his best beer-drinking buddy, and his closest friend. Indeed, way back when we said our fond farewells to Abingdon last year, it was only when Dodge started getting choked up saying goodbye to Stuart that it all finally hit home - we were really leaving, and we were really, really going to miss our wonderful friends and family.

But never mind that, the other reason I was sad to miss the wedding was that, as Best Man, Stuart was required to don a three-piece suit and tie for the occasion. I'm not sure either of us can remember the last time he wore a tie, let alone a jacket, and as for the last time he wore a waistcoat? Well, that would have been at our wedding, three years ago (and even that was without a jacket!). This suit-wearing business is all hearsay, of course, I haven't actually seen any evidence of him wearing said suit (yet). I'm hoping that some photographs will turn up soon - though I'm not sure I will recognise him out of "farming" gear!!

Of course, the being-home-alone thing meant that I had to go through the trauma of the airport run once again. Thankfully, the driving was fine and incident-free once again - so maybe I can manage this whole driving on the "wrong" side of the road/car thing after all?! By the time I got home from the airport, though, there was less than an hour until the dreaded inspection of our property by the architect from Florence (in relation to our planning permissions) - so despite having got the driving out of the way, my stomach remained firmly knotted.

Not long after I'd got back, Sue arrived and helped me to manoeuvre the car into a spot at the end of the driveway. With Sue and Donatella coming to lend moral (and practical) support, as well as the three people visiting (Andrea, an architect from Pescia and an architect from Florence), I wasn't sure there would be enough parking space at the house for everyone, so moved our car to the end of the driveway. It seems I may have mastered motorway driving, but as for manoeuvring our car neatly out of the way - not so much! Sue kindly directed me until we were both happy that the car was sufficiently well tucked away so as not to obstruct the entrance to the drive, then we returned to the house. Donatella arrived not long afterwards, and the three of us sipped chilled water (at the risk of sounding like a broken record, it was HOT) and discussed what might or might not happen - our main concerns were issues being raised about the fencing and about the old shed, as well as questions being asked about the now wall-less former goose house (soon to be chicken house).

About 10 minutes before the inspectors were due to arrive, I harnessed Reggie up and handed his lead to Sue. Donatella and I held our breaths waiting to see if he would go off with Sue, but we needn't have worried and off he trotted very happily indeed!

Donatella and I chatted a bit more, until we thought we heard something outside - on stepping outside the front door we were met by Andrea with a man and a woman walking around the side of the house with plans in hands. They had clearly already started the inspection and were not the least bit interested in talking to me! They continued to walk around the house and garden, not involving me at all. Handily, Donatella was able to eavesdrop on their conversation and relay some of it back to me. Before we knew it, Andrea was telling me "tutt'a posto" (everything's ok), saying "ciao" and miming sending an email. Donatella asked if they had any questions that she could help translate, but the three were adamant that they had seen enough and had no questions, and off they went! It was all a bit of an anticlimax in the end (although far rather that than the other way around).

Donatella said that as soon as they saw it, the architects had queried the old shed at the edge of the lawn. Andrea had told them that it was in the process of being demolished, to be replaced by the new wood shed (that we are seeking permission to build on the side of the house). I guess geometras must get used to bending the truth from time to time, and I guess the architects' query justifies the work David and Stuart put into emptying the shed and Chris and Stuart put into taking its roof off. Other than one of the architects remarking that the fence must be to keep the dog restrained, there didn't seem to be any other mention of the fence, which was a huge relief. So to all intents and purposes, it seemed to be a very straightforward visit with no problems having been raised and no curve balls having been thrown. We will wait for official confirmation before we count our chickens though!

After the visitors had departed, and Donatella and I had retreated into the relative cool of the house, it wasn't long before a familiar little face was poking his wet nose through the door, followed quickly by Sue - I think poor Sue had been dragged all the way back down the drive by Reggie, who does have a tendency to switch gears on his way home! Sue told us that Reggie had refused to venture any further than the gates - but that she and he had waited there patiently. They had seen the architects arriving and Reggie had given them a good bark and made himself look scary. Good boy!

We all praised Reggie, who by now must have been thoroughly confused - his "Dad" was missing, but two of his most favourite friends were here, one of whom had just taken him to the end of the drive and sat down there with him for 15 minutes - he must have been wondering what on earth was going on! Still, he stood on Sue's foot and chewed Donatella's hand, which I took as being a good sign, even if they'd rather he didn't.

With the day's dramas out of the way, my long afternoon's slog at the computer felt positively relaxing in comparison. I worked until early evening before doing the rounds with the hose to water all of our parched plants, feeding the animals and sitting down to a meal of leftovers from yesterday's dinner.

I got up early on Thursday morning and headed straight out with Reggie - we were on the road by 6.40am, but we only made it as far as the wood yard just up the road from us, at which point he made it very clear that he wasn't interested in traipsing up the road and would rather go back home, thank you very much. Well, I tried! Disappointed not to have had a walk myself, let alone one for Reggie, I got my exercise gear out and half-heartedly flung some kettlebells around before heading indoors to start my long day's work.

Thursday was indeed a long hard slog at my computer, clocking up almost 9 hours at my desk, while stopping every now and then to think about how Stuart's day was going and how Dodge and Ro were getting on and how they must be feeling as the hour of their nuptials approached. I did miss being there, but I am assured it was a wonderful day and I am certain that Stuart would have done an excellent job of his best man's speech despite his nerves!

And Friday? Well, Friday was my birthday. Yes, home alone on my birthday! Determined not to slip into the usual weekday routine, I pottered around in the morning, going down to the veg beds and finding our first five ripe tomatoes (at least the first ones we'd intentionally planted rather than ones that have grown of their own accord from the compost heap), as well as yet more cucumbers.

Birthday tomatoes.

I must admit to having shed a few tears when opening cards and presents from my family and Stuart - there really is nothing like a birthday to make you miss people, especially one when you're on your own - but Reggie was on hand to give me one of his best ever hugs (he must have been practising!), and after that I got on with my day.

At around 11.30am, David arrived, having offered to help put the satellite dish back up (after it having been taken down prior to the architects' inspection). To all intents and purposes this seemed like a straightforward task. Stuart had managed it back in December (the last time the dish had had to come down for an inspection) with seemingly little trouble, so foolishly I was expecting it to be a relatively straightforward task. Ha! Two hours later, both David and I were drenched in sweat and frustration, after having spent most of those two hours up a ladder in full 38C heat fiddling with bolts, trying to adjust the position of the alarmingly heavy satellite dish and receiver. We eventually conceded defeat and decided it would be best left to someone who knows what he's doing... That will be a job for Stuart then!

After David left, I had a bite to eat for lunch before settling down to my computer. As part of the package Mum and Dad had sent me for my birthday was a CD containing a mammoth (83-page) document about my grandfather's wartime activity - a large part of which was in Italy. Mum has been trying to get to the bottom of her Dad's wartime service for a long time now, and finally had a breakthrough a couple of months ago. After much hard work and detailed research, she has produced the most wonderful and beautifully written document describing Grandpa's duties and movements. It seems I am not the first in our family to have known Tuscany, and who could have guessed that 67 years prior to Stuart and me marrying in Siena, my grandfather was posted in that very city! It's absolutely fascinating reading, and I spent much of my afternoon trying to take it all in (I'm on page 50 so far!).

What does every birthday need? Cake. Or even cakes. As luck would have it (perhaps the universe was trying to make up for me having to spend my birthday home alone), my birthday fell on the exact same day as Vellano's annual Festa dei Dolci (festival of cakes/sweets) and I was invited to go along with Donatella, David and Sarah.

Since the festival wasn't due to kick off until 9pm (which, to us Brits, seemed a little late in the day for cake), we convened at David and Sarah's house for a drink and some nibbles beforehand. Fellow ex-pats Jim and Judy also joined us, and we enjoyed a drink and a chat in a gentle breeze on David & Sarah's pint-sized patio until it was time to head towards the action.

The action all took place in Vellano's main square, which is right at the top of the village, so we climbed our way up to the square, made a small donation each in return for a plastic bag containing a paper plate, plastic cutlery and napkin. We then found our way to some seats and sat down to wait.

From what I can gather, the festival is rather like a friendly WI cake baking contest, with all entries being judged, a winner (or winners?) being decided, whereafter the cakes are fed to the hungry mob. After what felt like an age, it was finally time to introduce the cakes. One by one, each cake was announced before being brought out, paraded in front of the crowd, and finally set down on an enormous table at the front. There were polite rounds of applause from the audience (a.k.a. hungry mob) for each entry, with some of the more notable ones (e.g. the larger ones, the ones with glossy toppings, the ones coated in Smarties...) getting 'ooohs' as the members of the crowd made a mental note of which cakes looked the tastiest. It seemed like the cakes would never stop coming, but cake no. 39 was indeed the last in line.

Let the cake parade begin!

39 cakes...

In amongst all of the chatting, crowd noise and the general language confusion, we completely missed who/which cake had actually won any prizes, but to be honest that wasn't really why we were there, and before we knew it, the cakes were being sliced up by a handful of Nonnas behind the tables and - whoosh - it was suddenly a free-for-all and we could no longer even see the cake table beyond the hungry mob.

Donatella laughed at Sarah and me, who in our reserved British way were standing at the back of the queue and repeatedly letting other people barge in in front of us - who were getting all the best cake! With cake at stake, we soon realised that a more forceful approach was required and at the next opportunity thrust our plates in front of one of the cake-serving Nonnas. It seemed de rigueur to ask for three cakes at a time, no questions asked. Some people even went up for a second plate load (much respect to David!), while for the rest of us it was a struggle to finish the first plateful of sugary goodness.

Actually there are four slices of cake there. No wonder I felt a bit sick!

With the entire piazza buzzing on a sugar high, there then followed loud Italian music and the equally deafening drawing of raffle prizes before finally, with sugar levels starting to crash again, we decided it was time to call it a night as far as cakes were concerned. While the others were heading to the Bistrot for a night cap, I decided it was time for me to head home, so after saying goodnight, I wended my way back down the hill. This was the first time I'd come home after dark while home alone, and I was surprised (at least, the me of a few weeks ago would have been surprised) to find I wasn't really the least bit worried. There were no bogeymen waiting for me, no scary beasts blocking the drive, and I could hear Reggie's reassuring bark as I walked up to the house. The scariest thing about getting home close to midnight was that I seemed to have interrupted a moth party on our front wall - it was covered in moths of all different shapes and sizes, clearly attracted to the outside light that I'd left on. The front door was similarly adorned, and I had to battle my way in, batting them away from my face and shutting the door behind me as quickly as possible. Of course, that's easier said than done when there's an excited dog on the other side of the door, eager to come out and give me his customary greeting!

After chasing a few moths around the living room, I stayed up for a while with Reggie before finally turning in for the night.

Is it possible to have a cake hangover? I felt a bit rough when I first woke up this morning, but maybe it was just because I'd had a busy few days and some late nights. Lucca and Florence weren't interested in my excuses though, and demanded their breakfast in the noisiest way they could, so I dragged myself out of bed, fed them, then made another futile attempt at taking Reggie for a walk along the road. These days something seems to spook him - there have been some new dog noises (barking from a direction in which we've not heard it before) which sound as if they are coming from the house above us, and to all intents and purposes it seems as if it is these that stop Reggie in his tracks and make him decide he'd rather stay at home. So, having made it out of the drive and onto the road, we turned straight around and went back to the house again. Thankfully, once Stuart is back it will be easier to take Reggie to places we know he likes to walk, such as the cava and the river, and he will at last get a proper run-around!

Since my walk plan had once again been scuppered, I decided to make a start in the apartment - we have guests arriving this afternoon, and while Stuart had done most of the cleaning before he left, I needed to finish things off down there. I therefore spent the next hour or so cleaning the bathroom, vacuuming and changing sheets before turning my attention to the outside. Since it has been so very, very hot and dry for weeks and weeks, the grass has turned brown and crispy and certainly didn't need mowing, but the odd weed or two was poking up, and the driveway was starting to look a little unkempt again. I therefore changed, got the strimmer out, headed down to the apartment patio, started up the strimmer... and within 2 minutes the cord had broken. I'm ashamed to admit that, while I am happy wielding the strimmer, the slightly complicated tasks of changing the cord (as well as getting the correct fuel mix) elude me, so I stomped back to the house, feeling hot and frustrated. Thankfully things really don't look too bad out there, but it would have been nice to have felt I had done everything possible. As Stuart said, hopefully our guests will be too busy admiring our lovely view to notice whether the grass on the drive is getting a bit long.

After an early lunch, I decided to brave Esselunga - I say 'brave' it, but I craftily timed my visit to coincide with lunchtime, which meant that when I arrived at 1.15pm, the aisles were blissfully quiet and I sailed through the checkouts without even having to queue.

After unpacking the shopping, I spent the afternoon having a go at a cucumber soup recipe. I've been meaning to do it for a while, but soup hasn't seemed like the most appealing thing either to cook or eat of late (I am hoping I can convince Stuart to try this one served chilled - we'll see!). Our mountain of cucumbers shows no sign of being depleted (and indeed continues to grow) and I was disappointed to find that the recipe (courtesy of Delia) only called for 2 cucumbers! Hey ho.

So, with our guests' arrival imminent, I just have the meet and greet followed by the hurdle of the drive to the airport to contend with before I will, I hope, be able to relax and enjoy the rest of the weekend with Stuart at my side and a glass of wine in my hand.