PRANCING AROUND
After having the girls prance around the living room in my groovy boots – the best and possibly only way to round off a top class poulette evening at Valerie’s – Art Director and Creative Assistant spent new year’s eve getting rice all over the place, down the walls, under the carpet, on the chairs, in the hairs, nicely controlled with litres of superglue. Who would have known they were not directly from Japan?


A side of Valerie not many had seen before...


Mimiche hangs on for dear life.


Close up and personal with sushi.


Sushi rolls rock!


The full sushi bar effect.

ONE WAS ONE
Do you remember blowing out your first candle?
Strangely, on the day, Simone was more into the cake than into the candle…


Towering over chocolate.

GOT PAST...
Fluffy is going to be eaten. at some stage. for certain. just don't know when yet. so I thought I would share with you the joy of getting past Christmas without him/her=it being put in the pot.
I am now stearing clear of the back of the house, where the logs are stocked and where it finds shelter from the cold. I am in fact pretending it never existed.
Luckily, I only saw it in my dreams...
Buon appetito!

SAUSAGES
On my last day at the ministry, I was having difficulty attracting the attention of the guards at the door. On a usual morning, they would very happily hand over the keys to the office and return my wishes for a productive day - not today. After a while of hovering in the lounge area, I decided to let myself in through the electronic pod (checking if I have a low enough metal content to enter the building?) and knock on their door. As I swung in, I found myself nose to nose with a meter-long string on sausages... and lots of mammas, chanting the virtues of their creations. Easily distracted?
Happy Christmas.


sausages galore!

FLUFFY BIT
Just so you know, I am now the proud owner of one of those red-eyed fluffy bouncy things. Cristian has not had his hand under it yet so I am not sure about the gender, i am just hoping the nonna does not decide to put it in the pot at new year...

ROME IS...
Grumbling about the public transport system made it no better, so I walked most of the way to work, through the cobbled streets of Trastevere, up onto the banks of the river - which was threatening to overflow - down into the Vatican areas where people were pressing into bars for their morning coffee. When I asked my way, I was sent up to Piazza San Pietro. What an astoundingly beautiful sight. Rome is gorgeous.


This does it no justice.

WHAT YOU MIGHT NOT HAVE WANTED TO KNOW
Cristian spent most of yesterday feeling the genitalia of albino rabbits...
After taking the pheasant food market by storm, this new move relates to the "day of the rabbit" - an incentive to get people to buy pet food (with the pet included) or some amazing trick to try out something most people never get to do????

STRIKE TOMORROW

UNE PETITE POESIE

Le chat et l'oiseau

Un village écoute désolé
Le chant d'un oiseau blessé
C'est le seul oiseau du village
Et c'est le seul chat du village
Qui l'a à moitié dévoré
Et l'oiseau cesse de chanter
Le chat cesse de ronronner
Et de se lécher le museau
Et le village fait à l'oiseau
De merveilleuses funérailles
Et le chat qui est invité
Marche derrière le petit cercueil de paille
Où l'oiseau mort est allongé
Porté par une petite fille
Qui n'arrête pas de pleurer
Si j'avais su que cela te fasse tant de peine
Lui dit le chat
Je l'aurais mangé tout entier
Et puis je t'aurais raconté
Que je l'avais vu s'envoler
S'envoler jusqu'au bout du monde
Là-bas où c'est tellement loin
Que jamais on n'en revient
Tu aurais eu moins du chagrin
Simplement de la tristesse et des regrets
Il ne faut jamais faire les choses à moitié.

Jacques PREVERT

ALL OR NOTHING
I know, it has gone from blog mania (those who were following closely will know what I am on about) to radio silence... Big brother seems to be just around the corner and I might have to move to another patch. Makes no sense to you? It does to me though.
Check below though as I have added new pictures!!

BRITS AND ITALIANS - A FATAL MIX?
It could have been if Ian had choked on his Porcini Funghi or had let go of the wheel with Cristian in the passenger seat.
A part from the car breaking down, the mist blocking out the view and skipping the daily dose of 3 ice creams, the Barley's stay in Umbria-Toscana was a hit.


The Barley Clan and Cristian.


Twins?


Who is worst at aiming for the medieval fountain?


Not in the UK...


C is petrified whilst James scooters on.


Time for bed - Cristian and Anchovy Paste

WHAT IT REALLY LOOKED LIKE
When the Pretoriuses came over for the weekend in Cortona after having been thrown out of their hotel in Florence (they claim they were out when it happened, but where they really??? Or was it more like a celebrity stunt, trashing the hotel room that got them kicked out?)
Nonetheless, after a few decaf cappuccinos, which were impossible to count, and accompanied by strange pastries, this is what they looked like.


A happy morning.

Corli went round Cortona ripping people's jeans... these are Barry's.

A tense tummy.

At La Grotta.

SOMEONE HAS A BUMP
On Tuesday I made my way to Florence (yes, I should be buying shares in trenitalia) to have a lovely lunch with Mrs Pretorius, who was looking gloriously pregnant! Mini-pretorius is due at the beginning of 2006. Watch this site as I am planning on getting a pic of her when she comes to Cortona to visit over the weekend.
In the meantime, the chef at the restorant on Piazza di Chiesa Santo Spirito asked her if she had a husband - getting picked up anywhere at any time!! Viva Italia!


Florence is beautiful...


Even when full of tourists and scaffoldings!

THE MEANING OF A MOOSE STANDING ON ITS HEAD
Don’t you sometimes wonder about the meaning behind the strangest things? I occasionally do, but then the phone rings, or an email arrives, or the pasta boils over, so if you thought this was going to be the first of a series of introspective blogs, you are wrong!!

I am madly trying to catch up with a bit of work after a fab few days spent with the Des PAZ, so why, you are wondering, am I waving a syringe around the room?, what does that have to do with work? Ask Dell about refill cartridges and then we can discuss it…

So, where was I, yes, foooooooddd. Not had one about food for a while have we? Our waistlines can certainly tell the difference after the Cortona feeding frenzy though. Good job the baby phone covered quite a large range of places to go and nibble whilst Laurine was dreaming of her next ice cream. The Grotta saw us a couple of times, as did the Antica Trattoria, yum. In Siena though we avoided the pizzas on the main square – yes, the young Roberto did try to throw one at the waiter out there, so we went incognito instead and had take away by the roman fountain.

In the meantime, we tried innovative carrying methods, as in the case of Alyssa, and synchronized mouth-spoon-opening exercises with Laurine and Alex. Isabelle happily looked on, dreaming of her next tartufo dish.

Now tell me, who on earth would take their Swiss relatives to Eurochocolate in Perugia?


Nobody could figure out why he wore sandals when it was autumn...


Laurine and Alex doing the mouth-spoon-food sync.


Alyssa in true vintage gear.


Bistecca alla Fiorentina, bone an all, at La Grotta.


Matteo Giardini taking the girls out in his car.


Alyssa goes carbon neutral.

A COUPLE OF QUESTION MARKS
Can lettuce be frozen and why is reading other people’s blogs a lot more interesting than working, especially on a Saturday? Just a couple of the questions that are going through my mind as I really should be getting on with work – yes, I am behind hand with lots of stuff as a result of too much travelling and too little time behind a computer. This is probably a post to kick start a guilt trip, even more so since it is now 3 pm and I am being picked up and taken to Pozzuolo in about an hour… ok, that did it. Over to important documents. But if you have any idea about the lettuce, do let me know.


freezer or no freezer...

BRIDGET JONES DID GO TO THE NORTH
In true mini-break style, Cynthia and The Sherpa flagged down a taxi and flopped into the back, covering the floor with bags. Shop till you drop only applies if the shops stay open long enough. In this case, it was more of a shop till the shops close... Campari and orange came to the rescue as did toast and cheese. Then the thinking cap came on to debate the cold-flesh interface and the figure-food paradigm. The former relates to baring the body notwithstanding mercury levels, whilst the second identifies the causal links between shape and intake. Next on the list is pint vs bladder size.
Ha, what a grand weekend that was.


The miracle of duty free... our evening companion.

DOES FART GET TRAPPED IN AIR FILTERS?
Impossible not to think such things when you are travelling AlItalia from Cairo and the plane is jam packed. 3x3 seats in economy, some 30 rows, that is at least 270 bums – add to that the crew and business and I think you reach gaseous saturation.

Now, the fact that most passengers are men - bigger builds, more gas space inside? - and that the vast majority is Egyptian – so eat fuul, i.e. squashed beans, even for breakfast – gives me reason to worry.

I have the little cooling air jet full blast but the terrible stench remains. It seems the expulsion power of my neighbour is far greater, and mostly accompanied by a sigh…

ELP.

A BIT OF FOX-PRINCIPI KNOWLEDGE

- Men who have longer hair than their wives are German – de facto.

- Irish men only get in the sea when the clouds come out.

- Twenty family members from Ancona sitting at the same table make a hell of a lot of noise.

- Julia-the-screaming-baby does not scream.

- Pooh pooh pooh – Ale, do you need to pooh? – replaced the pipi frenezy witnessed in Chens sur Leman in August.

- Blackpool and Porto Recanati share the same need for newspaper coverage.


Engrossed in a book.


Luigi follows suit, adopting Cristian's reading technique.


Doggy is doing it on the table...


Kate trying to convince that it is not cold.


Julia, the screaming baby who never cried.

AND THE SURPRISE GUEST IS…
Guess who I met in Rome????
De Chiara! Remember, a guy named Luigi.
I also bumped into Doreen Zitkovich of IUCN. She thought she could get away incognito with a long minibreak in Rome with her Serge? No. She had to bump into me, just as we were looking for shops and getting strategically muddled as to where was right and where was left and was there a garden in the Quirinale and should we not be eating our sandwiches standing up in the bar like any other sane roman? But who said Romans were sane?


Picnic time for teddy bears up against the Quirinnale wall...


Mag was not the surprise guest, we knew she was coming all along. What did come as a surprise was the amount of aperos she managed! Here is one at Harry's bar on Via Veneto, Roma! (... ok, she was having cappuccino)


Several random tourists in Cortona.


Recovering at home.

80+ KM TO GO TO THE CINEMA. WILL GEORGE CLOONEY COME TO CORTONA INSTEAD?
With little left to do on a Saturday night which was supposed to be dedicated to “un rinfresco” – i.e. what we would call a drink, but would here be complemented by lots of food of all description, not just the meaningless nibble, more like the fully blown pasta and meat and 3-veg-equivalent – but that was cancelled, I was on the verge of pouncing down to the shop to rent out a DVD (should I add that it was raining? Maybe not since it has been raining every single weekend for the past months) when the phone rang and Luca and Barbara confirmed that they were up for the cinema (nearly a whole blog here in one single sentence). So it was decided that no, it was not a stupid idea to drive all the way to Chianciano Terme (where they do the drinking of the spring water to improve the health of the liver amongst other things) which is over 40 kilometers away, in the pouring rain, just to see a film… I played at dodge the frog along the way (lots of amphibians around this area, so it must be environmentally friendly) whilst Cristian enjoyed getting lost several times and increasing our drive by a fair few kilometres.


yes, no, not in Cortona yet...

A NEW AMBITION
Careering round a village in a tractor with a sheet draped over it – that is my new ambition. Next year I am going to put my name down for the Festa del Vino at another one of those very beautiful Umbrian villages.
The brass band of Pozzuolo was there so we dutifully went to watch, only to be blown away not only by the wind but also by the fabulous floats that were going round the village (the tractors with sheets over them).
A true festa del vino with no wine (too cold) and charts with no vision!

MISSING SEATS
Should you fancy venturing down to Calabria, remember to take a toilet seat. After Naples, toilet seats become extras rather than normal additions to the loo. There were none in the flat we stayed in or in the posh restaurant where the wedding reception took place. In fact, I am starting to wonder if people nick each others seats, sneak out of bathrooms clutching it or hiding it under their t-shirts. Maybe it is a fashion statement not to have seats? And maybe the lack of seats is positively correlated with the Italian obsession of intimate hygiene products (fanny soaps)? Or maybe they are creating a new hybrid between the squat and the fully-fledged porcelain basin? The mind boggles…


Hoola Hoop.

KARAOKE – NOT IN JAPAN
Surprised is the least I could say I was when the bride grabbed the microphone and started belting out love songs. Then came the groom, then the brothers, then the uncles who unleashed the 80-odd cousins. By the end of it, most guests either had their heads in a bucket or where outside trying to find sharp objects to cut their veins with… I understand wedding are about love but to have 6 hours worth of it, trickling in honey, was a bit too much.
Another sociological factor that I wasn’t expecting was the success of Latin American group dances. Who needs the tarantella when you can have a Ricky Martin remix?


Husband and Wife, aka Andrea and Antonella


Nice fern.


Julio Inglesias or the brother of the bride?


Boys, looking the part before the wedding in Calabria.

THE TRAGEDY OF THE DIESEL SUNGLASSES
They were there, basking in the shade, under the towel, minding their own business. All of a sudden, hit by extreme pressure they tried to endure (my bum) they gave way and snapped. The fate of the diesel sunglasses was sealed on the 2nd of September. Why, my question is, could it not have been the fake pair of chanel that hurt my head anyway?


Da Enzo - place of the crush

ARE YOU WONDERING WHAT I DID WITH THE CHICKEN?
Transformed into it of course! That is what happens when you eat it in a row for several days. Anyhow, when I am not metamorphosed into a rooster, I feel like a salmon. I seem to be swimming in the right river and more positive work might be coming my way. Keep your fingers crossed for me, not something a fish can do, so had better get back to the poultry mode.
Other than that, did you know that the next Drag Queen Capital of Europe, and maybe even the world, after Amsterdam, is Principina a Mare? I found that out before being blown of shore by gale force winds on Saturday. Missed the drag night by a couple of days though so had to believe what cousin Matteo was telling me. Then I drove over some of the most scenic routes in the whole of Italy in the pouring rain - Sunday, normal, it always rains at weekends – and literally ran though Montalcino. The Brunello wine I just had to miss…

REFREEZE IS NOT AN OPTION
Panic, panic, Italian dinner guests have just cancelled at the very last minute (with no plausible excuse) and I now have a full unfrozen chicken on my hands… what do I do?
Post a “comment” below with your suggestions please.
Anyone fancy coming round for dinner?
The only other option I can think of is to stick it on my head, like Mr Bean, and pretend it is Christmas. I could also go running round the square with it on to create a bit of entertainment. Si?
Not sure the Cortonese would see the funny side though.

THE INVERSELY PROPORTIONAL BALANCE BETWEEN FEMALE EMOTIONS AND MALE HORMONES
Just yesterday, I was standing at the door of an art exhibition here in Cortona, listening to Terry recount her fate with older men. It transpired that male hormone levels are inversely proportional to female emotions. The more down and depressed a women is, the more interested older men become. Terry assures me that she has proof of a variety of old biddies that have done their best to console her when she was very unhappy – that was last week – and ended up trying to get her in to bed… That said, it also included one old fellow who did a jig to cheer her up and snapped his hamstring. I guess he will not be up for much physical exercise for a while.
This is just a heads up for those of you out there who have this magnetism with the past-mid-life-crisis bunch (that means just about any female), you have been warned, so be aware, and if anyone spontaneously starts dancing, move away immediately.

A GIRL, A SOCK AND A MERCURY PROBLEM
Can anyone explain why i am wearing wolly socks and have cold feet again when this is August in Tuscany ???
Pass me Bush please, I want a word about climate change and extreme weather patterns. This is penguin business. Bikini well hidden under layers of goretex and too early surely to be accumulating blubber?
As a consequence, il Cinema all’Aperto (aperto not being the name of a bar) was moved back inside, into the relative warmth of the theatre. So I had the misfortune to watch “Ma quando arrivano le ragazze?” Confirmation that in Italy, you can do anything if you are the friend of somebody. A whole bunch of not-actors and the worst script writer in living memory. Some of it was filmed in Perugia though – ajhh, such a popular area we live in now!


More like, when are they leaving...

AND SO TO COMPENSATE
Just had time to adjust to the brilliance of friends and family in Geneva and now I am back in Cortona. The contrast was made even sharper by the women who really did dress up to go to the Festa dell’Unità of Pozzuolo di Castiglione del Lago, a speck on the map. And they went all the way, right up to the nines, gold everywhere, sparkles so brightly amplified by the neon lights that I needed my shades on.
Please, if you see me in wedding outfits to go to the Festa dell’Unità, anywhere in the country, come over and salvage me!
On the other hand, the sausages were good…


Pozzuolo, reservation desk for the Festa dell'Unità crowds.


The moon shining through the moskito net made this weird cross-like reflection that you cannot see on film... well that was useful.