Last night of the carnival.

Just as we were turning in for the night the whole valley shook with a series of very,very loud explosions. It was the last night of the carnival. Promptly at 11.56 pm (or midnight according to the village clock) the week of festivities came to its long anticipated culmination with a ten minute barrage of tricolore green,white and red pyrotechnics each generating at the apex of its ascent an earth shattering explosion. The laws governing firework manufacture must be quite different in Italy for these were not the half hearted exhalations of British maroons but deep basso profundo roars that carried for miles. The effect seen, and heard, from our little hill 2 kilometres away was as much martial as it was entertaining. That said, for a small village the display was really rather impressive and would put to shame many displays that I've seen in British towns with populations 100 times greater. Wilf, bless him, oblivious to everything slept happily through it all but Digby, being the shy retiring type emitted exasperated groans from under the bed. If a dog could be heard invoking divine protection then it was Digby. This morning the village had the same maudlin air as Edinburgh at the close of the festival - the deserted square seemed to be saying the fun and frippery are behind us,now back to work.
Italian politics become ever more entertaining. Sgr.Berlusconi , the Prime Minister, had hoped to go to a mass of absolution to expiate his alleged misdemenaours with underage starlets and a string of 'professional' ladies. Sadly for him the presiding Cardinal deemed that the presence of the PM in church would have been somewhat inappropriate.
And to think that Bill Clinton was nearly impeached for his activities! I sometimes wonder what a seriously clever, flawlessly ethical and fiercely independent woman like Frau Merkel, the German Chancellor, must think of her Italian counterpart.Perhaps the sign of a great politician is being able to hide your feelings.

Pool dogs

This mornings topic of discussion in the village bar centred round the latest sleaze allegations to hit Italys Prime Minister . These alleged activities are carried in lurid detail in todays Sunday papers and caused much chuckling and ribaldry from the espresso downing crowd of locals. From what I understand, after a series of mini scandals involving parties attended by teenage models and other "beautiful girls" (as the Italian press delicately phrases it) Mr.Berlusconi is now alleged to have paid a "former model and showgirl"( another marvelous Italian euphemism ) to attend a party at his Rome palazzo on the night of the US elections. The young lady in question is now claiming she spent the night there and that he promised to help her build a hotel in Bari in return for certain 'favours'. Nothing came of this promise, although the 'favours' were granted and the spurned real estate wannabee is now providing Corriera della Sera with some tantalising insights into Mr.Berlusconis private life. The most interesting revelation is that 'she ate pizza , drank champagne and watched videos of Mr.Berlusconi's meeting with President Bush ' - what passion arousing viewing that must have been! Usually Mr.Berlusconi adores being the centre of attention but this renewed fixation on his headline-grabbing private life is causing some Italians to doubt whether these antics are in keeping with the dignity of the Prime Ministers office.