Two Polish Lowland Sheepdog brothers in Italy - now about to head to France
Saturday, 9 May 2009
Breakfast time on the Piazza Navona
Is there any townscape as beautiful as the Piazza Navona? At eight in the morning, before the tourists arrive en masse, you can see that the shape corresponds exactly to the stadium of Domitian which stood here two thousand years ago - the three fountains along its length are built on the same site as markets for chariot races. At the far end lies the church of St.Agnes. She was a virtuous Christian girl martyred for her faith - the story goes that she was flung naked into a brothel and was about to be despoiled by legionnaries when miraculously she was decorously covered from head to toe by a coat of celestial hair. If you ask you can still see the Roman house that lies under the church . This still has its wall paintings from the time when the miracle is said to have taken place. The artists tasked with representing the miracle for later generations clearly found the subject of female nudity to be too salacious and the poor girl is represented looking rather like a cross between a grissly bear and the Michelin man.
2004 - We sell the farm in Scotland and move to the warmth of southern Europe. 2 lively Polish Lowland Sheepdogs - Wilf and Digby - our patient and comical companions. After a year in Provence we head to Italy to restore a hilltop Roman watchtower . Following an unpleasant 'housejacking' in late 2009 we set off for new adventures in South West Franceto get to grips with a large and exceedingly rickety old farmhouse. Empty nesters life after the violence of Italy has a gentler tempo. Digby passed on from piroplasmosis in May 2010. HIs brother, despite being diagnosed with cancer and having become blind ,soldiered on for another two years. Bob and Sophie joined us in 2013. Bob passed on in 2019. Sophie enjoyed the fresh air in Scotland after we returned in late 2022 but ran ahead in the summer of 23. This blog records all those little things about living with dogs that are too unimportant to make it into a diary but which make life, life.
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