WHY NOT INVITE ALL THE WEIRDOES ROUND?
Having survived the supermarket, there was no reason not to overcome the arrival of the shipment from Geneva. Cristian plodded off to work whilst I waited for the “inizio pomeriggio” – aka beginning of the afternoon. By Italian standards, I thought that would be about 2pm. At 5.30 I finally intercepted the van and its two unhappy occupants (I agree, going up 4 flights of stairs with boxes is no recipe for delight, yet surely they had had time for a 4 course lunch and a nice long siesta?!?).

Whilst I was leading the way and pointing out the narrowness of the stairwell to the navigator, the driver took it upon himself to find the only three drug-addict-terrorist-look-alikes of the whole area; and the next thing I knew, they were all making their way into the flat carrying my stuff. Panic attack. Breathe in, wait, one two, breathe out. Hold on till they go to get more stuff, hide valuables, remove handbag from view, try not to think that the only three people I would really not like to know that I lived here are about to come back in carrying my stuff. AHhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh. Clean up the ash from their cigarettes in a frantic attempt to stop the whole of the old town catching fire. Practice inner poise and full-powered-zen until they leave. Drive the two removal people to Pozzuolo to drop off wardrobe (far too big for mini-flat), give them an earful.

Happy to be safe and sound (as opposed to diced and sprinkled into a bowl of acid by 5 strange men), I pour the first apéro of our new Tuscan life.