Delivering firewood at four in the morning.

Summer is going out in style - the mercury hit 39 degrees on Saturday and is likely to better that today. A cloud of mid-summer torpidity sits heavy over Italy. Thankfully,the two boyz have grown into the habit of sleeping from lunch until four in the afternoon which means they avoid the worst of the sun. Their afternoon doze didn't do them much good yesterday as the heat determinedly lingered on,searing uncomfortably out of the limestone,until late in the day . We ventured down to the pool for a couple of 'splosh' games around seven and then again at eight but faced with a wall of sweltering air the boyz enthusiasm quickly wilted and they retreated back to the cool of the house. Finally, to get comfortable we sat in the kitchen until gone ten with the aircon on full pelt while I read and the boyz crunched contentedly on ice cubes. After a day of enforced idleness the two troubadors were brimming over with energy after dinner .They entered into their late evening ball throwing session with total delight yelping and rolling on their backs on the cool grass- they may be eight years old but they can revert to playful puppyhood very quickly - we turned in at one although Wilf would have happily carried on .
This morning at four thirty Wilf was sitting bolt upright and fully alert at the side of the bed willing me silently to get up. A couple of months ago I'd ordered wood for the winter fires and then completely forgotten all about it.This morning the delivery truck turned up unannounced at the crack of dawn and dropped thirty quintales ( hundredweight) of logs at the wood shed - Wilf heard it all. By the time I'd thrown on a shirt and shorts and got out of the door to find out what was going on the driver was haring back along the track. As we were up and about the three of us walked slowly in the cool pre-dawn air up to the village at the top of the hill - even Digby with his sore hip managed the steep climb.We then sauntered gently back home again past the tired looking sunflowers and got back to the house by six for a reviving cup of coffee (for me) and a 'splosh' game for them .

I've just driven into Montefalco for the Sunday papers. I'd not noticed before the wonderful Cedar of Lebanon that stands at the old town gate.What a majestic tree and what glorious shade it provides!.

Zanzaras. You can take being 'native' too far.

It's all very well moving abroad to learn new ideas and develop fresh perspectives but you can take going 'native' too far. We are fortunate that we live on top of a hill and are far enough away from the flood plains of the Tiber to avoid being plagued by mosquitos. Last night was however an exception. It was unusually clammy and by nine in the evening we were being bothered by harvest flies and the tell tale buzzing of mosquitos - by the way the Italian for mosquito is zanzara a wonderfully onomatopoeiac word that sounds just like the saw tooth sound the little critters make. I am happy to douse myself in any anti-bug spray to keep them away- the more chemicals the better if it gives me peace and quiet. The 'font' however is on one of those spare the planet kicks at the moment so chemicals are a no-no. Instead of an aerosol of DDT we were treated to a rubdown with an evil concotion of garlic,lavender and rosemary oils. It was provided gratis by the local farmers wife who swears by it, having been tried and tested in her family for generations,her men folk (she says) go out into the fields by the river drenched in the stuff. Suffice it to say that the smell made me feel as though I was being prepared for roasting in the oven while the texture was so thick and rubbery that no mosquito would be able to get its probiscus through to the skin. I had a good long shower to get it off me and went to bed early. This is not a concoction that is going to find its way onto pharmacy shelves any time soon and I'm going back to spraying on Boots the Chemists finest agent orange preparation in future.

The boyz have had a fresh application of Frontline and new mosquito repellant collars to keep the bugs away from them. We are in an area where leishmaniasis is endemic so we try to keep them close to us at dawn and dusk when the insects are about. There is however no danger of them being bitten this morning - it's eight o'clock and already 28 degrees. They have settled down in the shade of the pine trees outside the house with a ball and are waiting patiently for the first visitor of the day to pester.

The aeronauta

Over breakfast we were all startled by a loud 'shhhhhh' noise that suddenly boomed out from the cloudless sky above us. The two boyz immediately went into defence mode racing round to the farm gate and barking at maximum decibels to let any intruder know that he had a fight on his hands. The noise was coming from the gas heater of a balloon that was enjoying the chance to get airborne in the still clear air after the recent storms - perfect ballooning weather. The gonfiarsi drifted slowly by at an altitude of about a hundred feet . The two boyz stood staring into the sky totally transfixed by this strange new sight. They followed it until it disappeared from view behind the tree line. There will be something for them to dream about later this morning.

A marvellous interview in this mornings FT with one of Sgr.Berlusconis scorned 'lady friends'. It contains a line saying that Italy is " a land where contacts and 'recommendations' often outweigh merit".

Apres le deluge ..

Faced with periodic power outages we went to the local restaurant for lunch yesterday to escape the wailing banshee wind,driving monsoon like rain and dark scudding clouds. The storm had one great advantage - it provided the villagers with a fresh topic of conversation which they ruthlessly exploited. No sooner had we arrived and sat down than our waitress breathlessly rushed up to inform us that there had been a 'disaster' two kilometres along the road in the next village. A mud slide had coming storming down the hill and through the front doors of the local clothing store covering the ground floor in a thick layer of sludge. Village life in Italy is marked by events such as this.

The loss of the clothing store would indeed be a catstrophe in the life of the local community. Although our little market town is far ( some would say very far ) from being stylish it nonetheless harbours pretensions to be the local fashion centre. This reputation for being the Milan of the Tiber valley is built around one 'trendy' store that sells every designer label known to man - as long as the label is Italian or purports to be. From the window displays it would seem that brightly coloured jackets with fur collars and (to me) illogical slogans sewn onto their backs in Japanese and Norwegian are the must have item for fall 2009.Call me old fashioned but I for one will not be walking around in a dayglo yellow number with the admonition ' Shrank now sparkle ! - Trondheim 2025 ' emblazoned across the back and down the arms. Who designs these things? There must be a high probability that they've been churned out, deep in Yangtse territory, by a factory owner who knows nothing of the outside world other than the information he can glean from a quick reading of an old travel guide to Scandinavia.

The boyz are alone with me again for three days while the 'font' is travelling.Wilf came on the morning walk but Digby remained behind at the front gate.It's very hot and humid here after the rains ,so maybe it's causing his arthritis to play up.

Wilf walks, Digby sits.

Wilf trotted quietly beside me on the morning walk - he really is the perfect dog and treats each excursion with enthusiasm and joy . His little brother Digby is a worry. He's alert and playful but is holding back more and more when we set off for a walk. This morning he sat by the gate and looked at us as we went on ahead. No amount of encouragement would get him to move.I hope it's the heat that's causing his lack of enthusiasm for exercise rather than ( as I expect ) his bad hip. It's clear that Wilf is losing some weight but Digby,despite his diet,seems to be keeping his middle age spread which isn't good for mobility.

Many years ago I used to work for a 'think tank' in Menlo Park - at the time the firm spent much of its time analysing developments behind what was then the 'iron curtain'. An old friend from those days reminded me last night of a true story that I'd long ago forgotten. In mid-October 1978 Stanislaw Kania the Polish Politburo member in charge of propaganda telephoned the then head of the Polish government,Edward Gierek, with the news that a former professor at the Catholic University of Lublin and Archbishop of Krakow, Karol Wojtyla, had unexpectedly been elected pope. 'Holy Mother of God!' was the response of the First Secretary of Poland's ruling Communist party.

Lost in scents and sounds.

The boyz were in a reflective mood this morning. They were lost in a world of scents and sounds and I got back to the house ten minutes ahead of them while they ambled along the farm track oblivious to the time. It never ceases to amaze me how totally different in character two brothers can be. Wilf is full of energy, rarely given to self doubt, and happy with his role in life. Digby with his bad hip is less energetic than his big brother, is decidedly more highly strung and only truly happy when he's with his folks. Of the two Digby is by far the most intelligent having had to learn the trick of outsmarting his big,rumbustious brother. Wilf was given quite a kicking by the robbers during the burglary, and while his ear has healed, I noticed on this mornings walk that his right back leg is still stiff.

We sat outside under the stars last night until we noticed that it was well past midnight and the two boyz had despaired of us and had taken themselves off to bed. The 'font' had discovered a marvellous quote from a 1959 speech in parliament by a junior transport minister. Introducing new legislation on motorway driving the minister said the legislation should be ' brief enough to be readable but comprehensive enough to cover every important point - like a lady's skirt, long enought to cover the subject,but short enought to be interesting'.How we laughed. Any politician attempting a comment like that today we be laughed out of the chamber - unless of course you live in Italy where blatant 'sexism' 1950's style seems to do the Prime Minister no harm at all. The 'font' rightly pointed out that Mr.Berlusconi survives, despite his alleged 'interest' in young starlets, because there is simply no alternative. His political philosophy is 'apres moi le deluge'. Although I'm no great fan of his I'd have to say that's right.

Bliss.

Wilf has been exploring in the fields. He returned from our early morning saunter with his face and coat covered in grass seeds and other assorted vegetation. The remedy was a fretful ten minutes of detangling with a comb with Wilf fidgeting and generally letting it be known that he would rather be somewhere else - anywhere else other than on the grooming table. He has now settled down into a deep mid-morning snooze to try to forget the traumas that faced him.

Todi is looking quite blissful this morning above the ripening vines . The local grape here is the sagrantino which is small in size, with a thick skin and a slightly acid note to its sweetness. Over the last four or five years the big Italian insurance companies have bought up many of the small producers which has resulted in a marked improvement in quality and an even more marked increase in price.

I was delighted to read in the papers this morning that the senior management of EADS the aircraft manufacturer are to be fined for what was effectively insider trading. It's good to see watchdogs doing what they are supposed to. Governments around the world are keen to expand their own powers through closer supervision of banks and other financial institutions. All of this additional oversight and cost will be a waste of money as the industry is already weighed down under a raft of incoherent regulations. To put things right what is needed is for 100 or so criminal lawyers to be put onto enforcing the current laws and be paid by result - many people on Wall Street or the City might then find that there is no such thing as power without responsibility.The prosecutors might want to start with a long hard look at High Frequency Trading - or what in my day would have been known as the cardinal sin of front running.

Crusty formality.

It's another day without a cloud in the sky. Seven in the morning and its already 25 degrees - it looks as if there is another 40 degree + day ahead of us. Dallas weather. Wilf and Digby , after a cursory tour of the olives groves,have retired to the shade of the courtyard and are giving every indication that they don't intend to move very far until lunchtime. Digby is on his back and Wilf has hunkered down into the cool grass. Their diet seems to be less than effective in this heat- while the kibble intake has been reduced by 30% their activity levels have also gone down . Net result is that their middle aged spread (like mine) remains firmly in place. I have just had an awful thought - what if it's true dogs and owners eventually end up looking like one another?

The gardeners failed to return yesterday with the oleanders for the new pots. They finally deigned to call at six in the evening to say that the plants wouldn't arrive from the nursery until Thursday. Not that we had much chance of peace and quiet. The pool man showed up on his Lambretta mid-morning - he's supposed to come on Thursdays. I'm sure his Christian name is Orlandoni - but the ' font ' tells me that Orlandoni is his surname. If so I have been happily greeting him with a rather crusty formality - the equivalent of saying ' Good Morning Smith ' every time we meet. I look at Orlandoni with a mixture of awe and suspicion.He wears bright plaid trousers that would be quite at home on a golf course but as everyday wear are a little strident for my taste. More worrying is his 'face furniture'. His exquisitely honed sideburns cascade down his cheeks to merge with a perfectly trimmed goatee - the total effect is rather like an extra in one of those 1940's Errol Flynn films about the Spanish Armada. For someone who has difficulty enough shaving this Italian emphasis on masculine grooming is quite alien - how much time must he spend in front of a mirror every morning?.

Why are Canadians so educated ?

An article in this mornings Corriere della Sera has an interesting chart showing the percentage of those completing college level education by country. Canada leads with 47%, the US with 39%, the UK 31% and Italy 13%. No Italian university appears in the global top 100 due to lack of funding and a personnel policy that makes it impossible to force tenured teaching staff out of their positions even if they literally do nothing. As a result most Italian universities have senior faculty members aged in their late 70's and early 80's . This is hugely dispiriting for younger members of staff who have to wait for their colleagues to drop dead before they can gain promotion. Naturally teaching and research standards suffer accordingly. Pisa University is reported as saying in todays paper that it only has funds to pay 60 out of 264 professors.These cultural and financial issues are clearly not problems Canadian institutions face!

After much discussion with the local commune we have now finally restored the old Roman wall in the courtyard and completed the reconstruction of the archway.Last week the wooden doors went in. To complete the 'tout ensemble' the gardeners arrived this morning with two large terracotta pots to go on either side of the wooden doors . We intend to plant large red oleander bushes in them to brighten up the rather stern and forbidding stone walls. The delivery went well, the team arrived at seven, nothing was broken, and the installation seemed to go according to plan. It's only now that they've gone back to pick up the oleanders from the nursery that I see that the two pots have been laid at what can only be described as an extremely 'drunken' angle. I am hastily looking up gardening terms in my Italian - English dictionary.

The two boyz have recovered from their weekend exertions and have been happily playing ball with the gardeners. Perhaps that's why the pots are the way they are.

Digby - exhausted after a late night.

Digby seems to be suffering this morning from the canine version of staying out too late. We had Italian friends who because of the heat arrived for dinner at the rather chic hour of nine o'clock and stayed until one. The boyz were naturally delighted to have company and after giving their usual enthusiastic greeting they sat patiently waiting in the courtyard while we ate. Despite their enthusiasm to play ball, by midnight their energy levels were flagging and they were keen to turn in. By the time our guests left they were beyond caring, by the time we had tidied up they were out of it.

This morning when I got up at five to water the olives trees there were two comatose dogs lying on the floor. After much cajoling they consented to make it out of the front door but refused to follow me down the driveway. They have taken up position in the shade of the courtyard and from the look of Digby will be there for the rest of the day.

The bee.

When I started the blog I decided for the sake of simplicity and immediacy to only use the camera on the mobile phone. This means that from taking a picture to it appearing on the screen can take at most five minutes. This morning I went to take a view of Todi shimmering in the sunshine from the lower terrace in the garden. When I came to download the file and look at the picture there at stage left was a bee heading off for a mornings hard work in the lavender fields. At the centre of the photo there is also a large black and white butterfly sitting sunning itself on a lavender bush. Says a lot for the quality of the lens on my little Sony Ericsson.

The' font of all knowledge ' is taking an Open University maths course. This sudden immersion in science ( for which I can evince no interest whatsoever ) does throw up some interesting facts. Apparently 20-30 year olds in the UK have become so used to in-car navigation systems that the sale of maps to this age demographic has simply collapsed. People talk about map reading becoming in twenty years or so one of those lost skills like spinning or thatching.

Wilf is back in control of the soft sheep much to Digbys chagrin.It was 41 degrees here yesterday and the two troubadors were inside from lunchtime until seven in the evening.There is a limit to how much Polish Lowland Sheepdog boyz can sleep and it's not seven hours ! I played ball with them for forty five minutes solidly at midnight to get them exhausted. Both dogs and owners enjoyed a good nights sleep until awoken at three o'clock by the sounds of the summer party resounding across the fields. The 'font' recognized one of the songs being played at mega volume as having rather 'risque' lyrics but was uncertain as to whether it was by Amy Whitehouse or Amy MacDonald. It only goes to show what new horizons are opened up by the Open University Chat Room and an MP3 player.

Great guard dogs.

The plan worked. After yesterdays early morning exercise and subsequent tour of the fields the two boyz were worn out and slept solidly all the way through from one until five - I was able to work in peace without constant interruptions. Their well earned rest was suddenly shattered by the unexpected arrival of a police car and three machine gun wielding caribinieri at the front door.

The police had come to the house to show me some mugshots of possible villains.Quite why Italian police go around carrying machine guns is one of lifes unknowns.Anway we all settled down around a table in the garden, me, the three officers, the two boyz and the three machine guns. What an incongruous sight it must have been. I'm glad the 'font of all knowledge' was away in London and didn't have to sit down and study each of the photos - there is something deeply unsettling about seeing pictures of people who might have done you harm. It brings all the memories back and somehow makes it all personal.

This morning the boyz were fit for action bright and early. Wilf went digging in the lavender beds and returned with his nose covered in mud. The evil smelling ball with the stuffing hanging out has been quietly disposed of and replaced by an altogether more decorous green ball and a soft animal. Neither seem to excite them in the way the malodorous ball did. The great guard dogs are now on patrol at the front gate waiting for the return of the rest of the family from the airport.

The mole scarer day 2.

Another of those perfect days - not a cloud in the sky and the view across the valley to Todi crystal clear. The solar powered mole scarers are installed and busy doing whatever they are supposed to do - so far this morning there are no signs of our little flippered friends. Late yesterday afternoon (having heard about our purchase on the super efficient village grapevine) the local farmer and his son came down to look at the new mole scaring apparatus - I think they were rather disappointed that the scarers look like solar garden lights rather than some state of the art sci-fi type contraption.

The boyz constantly amaze me with their enthusiasm for life - the second I finish my breakfast toast and coffee they are at the front door urging me to get my shoes on and making it clear that they want to get out and start the day without losing a second of exploration time.This morning they were off down the drive, turning round from time to time to make sure that I was keeping up. Wilf bounds ahead while Digby,with his sore hips,tends to lag a little as the walk progresses. I chat away to the two boyz on the morning walk - a character trait that further reinforces the locals view that I'm harmless but not quite right in the head - in short the sort of person who would invest in solar powered mole scarers.

At the bar in the village this morning the talk was of two motor cycle accidents that happened last night. One young chap wasn't looking where he was going and drove into a tractor that pulled out in front of him while in the second the rider lost control taking a corner at speed. Thankfully, both of them seem to have a few broken bones but are otherwise just fine. The number of accidents on the roads here continue to amaze and alarm me - it is as if there is a communal denial that there is a traffic problem. For a country where the family is the dominant social feature you would think that there would be pressure on the young folk to drive responsibly. But no - people drive while reading, while talking on the phone,and the weekend accident rate among the young is something any anglo-saxon would find terrifying and unacceptable. In northern Europe there is a sense of care and prevention when driving with speed limits and strict police traffic enforcement - here in the south people live with a concept of destiny - what will be, will be - so why obey the rules and why enforce them?.

Two Polish Lowland Sheepdog brothers sheltering from a thunderstorm.

It has suddenly started to pour with rain here in Umbria - heavy, continuous, and unrelenting. What started out as a perfect day changed at lunchtime when a front blew in from Tuscany. The man in the fresh pasta shop was almost depressive about the weather - the wettest winter in fifty years according to his father! The boyz are full of vim and vigour and are itching to get outside and into the puddles. When it eases off a bit I'll walk them up the hill and then spend twenty minutes toweling them dry.

The peculiar Amanda Knox murder case is underway in Perugia - I really can't make head nor tail of it. Is it possible that the prosecutions claims of satanic rituals and drug enduced sex games will stand up to cross examination?

Two Polish Lowland Sheepdogs and the angry policeman

London has been hit by heavy snow again. The first flight out from Heathrow to Rome was delayed by nearly two hours and the next one was cancelled. I should be thankful I made it out yesterday.

Driving into town today I was flagged down by the carabinieri at a check point for a routine insurance check. After pulling over I unbuckled my belt and lowered the window - this drove the policeman mad. He shouted at the top of his lungs and banged his fist full force on the roof to let me know that I was not to undo my seatbelt before he had instructed me to do so ! The thumping on the roof and the screaming got the boyz barking wildly in the back of the car which didn't relieve the tension.

The police are usually quite polite but I guess there are bad apples in every barrel. Was thankful he didn't use force and pull me out of the car . Nonetheless quite upset by the display of raw anger- not what you would find in France or the UK.Thankfully the documentation was in order and the car recently serviced so he wasn't able to vent his spleen on me for more than ten minutes. After driving off I spoke to my lawyer in Rome on the telephone and he advised me that the best thing when pulled over here is simply keep as still and quiet as possible - the concept of citizens rights is not recognized here.

Washed the boys when I got home and they are now their once a month sparkling white which will last for all of 24 hours.

What's on the menu for today?

This mornings newspaper reports on the economy are full of doom and gloom after the 3.8% fall in US GDP numbers reported yesterday. One usually sensible commentator in the UK press has written an article this morning in the London Times asking what happens if things carry on deteriorating at this rate for ever. This dire outlook only serves to reinforce my belief that in countries with a vibrant press - the US, the UK and Ireland for example - the media unwittingly fuel the sense of impending gloom with their baleful reporting and alarmist headlines. It is as if in the anglo-saxon world we have moved en masse from a sense of optimism to one where Armageddon lies just around the corner. The worst case becomes the norm because it makes much better copy than optimism. It seems to me just as likely that after a horrible first and second quarter things will start to slowly improve by the late fall and the huge funds allocated to stimulating the economy will begin to bear fruit by the end of the year. A horrible 2009? Yes. Q1 GDP down 6% and Q2 down 4% ? Yes. More bank bailouts ? Yes. The end of civilisation? No. I for one intend to start looking for the first green shoots of spring although they may not sprout until next year.

Lovely start to the day here. At first light Wilf was off down the drive in pursuit of adventure. There was a quite thick frost this morning so he had a fun time using his paws to smash the ice that had formed on the puddles overnight. Don't tell me that humans are alone among God's creatures in knowing how to have fun!