Autumn knocks at the door - Rome is given over to the tourists.

Autumn is suddenly beating impatiently at the door. At five this morning it was still dark and a torch was needed to safely navigate through the rows of trees in the fields. Only last week I was out with the boyz at five and watching the sun start its leisurely climb into the sky - what a difference a few days make when the seasons are on the point of shifting.

Thankfully, the olive trees are hardy things and most of them seem to be holding up under the onslaught of 40 degree+ temperatures day after day. The older more mature trees with deep root structures are positively thriving and are heavy with olives but some of the younger ones are demonstrating signs of heat stress and needed a helping hand from the irrigation system. Wilf and Digby made it to the front door with me for the walk but took one look at the impenetrable darkness outside and decided instead to snuggle down together by the wall to continue their sleep. They looked so cosy curled up together that I didn't push the issue.

Rome was chock full to the gunnals of tourists.On the surface everything looked as though it was 'business as usual' but it was soon apparent that the locals had fled en masse to the cool hills or the sea. Rome without the Romans is a very different place - a mere shadow of its real self populated by seasonal restaurant and hotel workers who are already thinking about moving to the ski resorts. My favourite fish restaurant by the Pantheon, da Fortunato, was shuttered for the duration and Cafe Sant Eustachio,which according to the the 'font' makes the best cup of coffee in the world, was well and truly boarded up. Faced with the summer closure of all my usual hangouts I had dinner in a restaurant that was strongly recommended by the hotel but which turned out to be,in the most polite of terms,' little more than adequate' . You couldn't help but have the feeling that the heat, coupled to the teeming throngs of 'stranieri' milling around in bermuda shorts were testing the patience of the waiting staff. They demonstrated a bored efficiency bordering on surliness.

My dinner companion was a Polish politician who proved to be surprisingly entertaining with his personal, and sometimes scurrilous, vignettes of Europe and Americas leading parliamentarians. Our conversation was listened to intently by the well mannered predominantly 'BosWash' couples dining alongside us. I always find it interesting to watch married couples on tour - there are broadly two categories. Those who talk to each other and those who sit in abject silence as if dining alone. On this particular night the restaurant was full of the later category - I wonder if they repeated the stories about Mr.Bush to each other when they got back to their ( hopefully airconditioned) hotel?.

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!.

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.

Huge storms

Huge storms are battering Italy. Thankfully, we haven't had too much damage apart from some furniture thrown about by the wind and a few shrubs knocked over. Higher up the valley there have been mud slides, trees felled , walls toppled, and power lines knocked down. Faced with torrential rain , pyrotechnic lightning and thunder and 100 kilometre winds Wilf and Digby slept under the bed last night and haven't been too keen on emerging from their hiding spot this morning. The satellite link has been tempremental so I shall post again later when the tempest subsides and after I've checked the olive groves for broken branches. Wilf might deign to join me but at the moment he's giving me a look that seems to say ' you must be mad if you think I'm joining you out there'.

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.

Washed the car thought better of washing the boyz

I noticed last night that Digby has developed a certain odour and fear that he is facing the early onset of what would once have been described in hushed tones as 'gentlemans problems'. We were all up bright and early so decided to use the opportunity of the cool weather to take the two troubadors down to the car wash to try out the automated dog washing machine . Over breakfast I outlined my plan for odour removal to the 'font' who didn't reply but looked at me with that half pitying half horrified look that those directly involved with lunancy develop as a defence mechanism.

The car wash when we got there just before six was empty and the temperature was a still bearable 25 degrees. Carefully parking the car in the shade , I read and then re-read the instructions on the machine, studiously noted where all the dials and equipment for washing, shampooing , rinsing and drying were located and ran through the steps that would be needed to remove one dog at a time from the back of the car. It all seemed so simple - place the dog on the conveyor belt, turn the dial to position 1 to activate the conveyor, turn dial to position 2 to halt the conveyor, turn dial to 3 to wash, repeat using shampoo with dial at position 4, turn dial to position 5 for rinsing, dial 6 for hair drying and so on. Having just bought the tokens for the machine and in the midst of congratulating myself on my prescience when,on the dot of six , half a dozen cars en route to the seaside arrived - full of children with radios blaring . The two boyz who had been sitting contentedly and placidly in the back of the car were suddenly surrounded by a hoarde of Italian children tapping on the window, screaming loudly, gesticulating wildly and generally causing mayhem while their fathers lazily sprayed the hubcaps of their FIAT's. Suffice it to say that Digby did not take this attention calmly. The automatic dog washing will be left to another day. The boyz are now down by the pool playing the 'splosh' game to their hearts content.

Saturday.

We didn't manage a four thirty wake-up but we were all out by five thirty for a saunter through the fields for the sunrise. There must be a weather change coming - after two weeks of scorching aridity there were mist clouds hanging in the valley bottoms. Perhaps we might even get a shower of rain in the next few days. I trimmed Digby's coat again when we got home but decided for my own sanity to leave dealing with Wilf until tomorrow. Their coats don't seem to grow so much as sprout - leave them unattended to for a week and they end up looking like polar bears.

The 'font' phoned from Oxfordshire to say that it was raining heavily and that it was so,so wonderful.Typical. We spend all our time in Scotland dreaming of heat and now we've got it we want rain. The grass is always greener.....

An early morning start.

The 'font of all knowledge' left at four thirty this morning for the two hour drive down to Rome to catch a flight back to London. Things must be looking up in the economy - all the British Airways flights were full apart from the anti-socially scheduled first slot of the day. We all got up at the same time to make use of the early morning cool and snatch a quick cup of coffee together. Not everyone rose from their slumbers gracefully - Wilf is not a morning canine and did his best 'if I keep my eyes closed they won't see me routine'. Having played dead he finally consented to shift to the front door but was unavailable for any form of communication thereafter . Not for nothing was he originally named Wilf as shorthand for wilful . It was left to Digby and myself to open the farm gate and watch the headlights of the car disappear into the distance. When I turned around to walk back to the house I found that Digby was sound asleep at my feet.Middle age catches up with all of us - two and four footed alike.

An interesting article in todays Corriere della Sera pointing out that the side effects of Tamiflu - the drug issued as a means of preventing swine flu - are worse than the flu itself. Nausea , sleep loss and high irritability are the most common symptoms. That's ok then.

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.

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.

The plan didn't work.

I thought that by getting the two boyz up early and rushing them around in the cool of the early morning they might sleep all through the heat of the afternoon. The plan which worked so well yesterday has failed miserably today. It's well over 100 degrees out and Wilf and Digby are full of life and raring to go - far from being exhausted by the early morning start they seem to be re-energised. Every three or four minutes one of them arrives in the office and drops a ball at my feet.I've played with them indoors for what seems to be hours and both master and dogs can hardly wait for the temperatures to moderate a bit so that we can get out.

Perfection - Italy on a sunny summer morning.

Anyone who has more 'mature' dogs will know the morning walk routine. A mad rush out of the front door followed by a quick sprint down the road and then a slow gentle,middle aged, amble back. I call it our morning 'rosh' - rush out, saunter home. I reckon that the walk up the hill ( at young dog speed ) takes us ten minutes and the walk back ( at mature dog speed ) half an hour. This rate of progress certainly doesn't give me a good cardio workout but Digby's hips aren't as good as they used to be and we all adopt a pace that fits in with him- I worry a bit about the sudden rate of deterioration in his rear quarters. Although he's only just over eight years old, violent exercise seems to take its toll on him. His big brother of course is built like a bulldozer and would rush around at high speed all day so the trick is making sure the little one doesn't get over tired while the big one gets enough exercise to keep the weight off.

This morning we walked up to the sun flower fields. The boyz love walking through them - from a dogs perspective it must be like going through the rain forest with tall stems reaching to the sky in every direction. Somewhere on the journey home the two troubadors found an old soft ball - by the time we were home the stuffing was spilling out of it and it had morphed from being a ball into a health hazard. Wilf is pretty good - he let's his little brother have the occasional turn at savaging it.

It's heart breaking to see that eight more British youngsters have fallen in Afghanistan. It's proving to be a bloody week. I wish the government would take the time to explain why we're there. Is it because we don't want Al Qaeda to turn the country into a base to undermine the whole region , or is it because if Afghanistan collapses Pakistan can't be very far behind? If it's ethically justified countries like Britain and the US have a moral duty to expend blood and treasure for the greater good , but the number of fatalities in Afghanistan have now overtaken those in the Iraq war.