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.....