The Happy Squad

15 degrees this morning - we're wearing sweaters and socks and generally feeling stunned that autumn has decided to attack head on rather than creep in gently. By contrast the boyz are loving it. On the morning walk they stormed on ahead , heads held high , sniffing the clear air with a sense of canine purpose, pausing occasionally and rather irritatedly for me to catch up. They don't just like this weather they were made for it .Late into the night they were to be found sitting in the middle of the lawn, head on into the wind, long ears streaming out behind them. Bliss.

If we think it'getting cold then the villagers can be counted on to think we've descended into a new ice age. In the bar this morning the usual faces sat glumly swathed in scarves and thick padded jackets clutching their warm coffee cups between 'frozen' fingers. A decidedly unhappy and morose crowd . When we lived up by the castle in Edinburgh it was easy to spot visiting Italians.They would wander around the city at the height of summer like Michelin men, layered in every piece of clothing they could lay their hands on. Having left the heat of Milan or Rome in August in search of cooler weather they would quickly discover that what is 'cool' for a Scot is positively glacial for someone hailing from more temperate climes. You would catch school parties at the airport desperately opening their bags at the luggage carrousel and adding more and more clothing in a fruitless attempt to keep warm.

We face a hectic day now that the lethargy of summer has gone. The last of the lavender needs to be trimmed and bundled, the vine that covers the old tower needs to brought back under some semblance of control,and the equipment for next months olive harvest checked, repaired and where necessary replaced. The wood for the fires needs to be sorted and stored and a new 1.8 metre high security fence erected around the 'bombola' - the latest regulation dreamt up by the bureaucracy and only implemented by law abiding foreigners .The 'font' is off for a visit to the back specialist combining the trip with a side journey to the MINI garage to see if the dog car will be accepted in part exchange for something that functions. Oh, and the pool people will need to come and close everyhting up until next April.

Over breakfast the 'font' rather saucily points out a report in the Corriere. The Italian Prime Minister is suing a Spanish newspaper for printing claims by some of his former 'lady' friends that he has 'gentlemans problems' (how delicately put) that can only be treated by injection. The newspaper informs us that he is willing to stand up in court 'to prove once and for all and without a shadow of doubt' that he is not impotent and not in need of any medical assistance. Oh the joys of Italian politics. Why worry about the recession or Afghanistan!