Let me start by saying I have just finished a second course of antibiotics to try and kick a chest infection. I still have the cough and now thanks to the antibiotics I have a really bad case of wind.
Nobody was safe from the wind
As we walked to the office of the prefecture I was not only worried about my application for Italian citizenship, but also my precarious medical condition. I am not sure if my interpreter knew I kept randomly exploding, if she did, she never said anything.
The Office of Sig.ra helpful
The meeting went really well, Sig.na Helpful ( the women in the office) decided I could write a self certificate declaring that when I was a baby in Malta I wasn’t a Cereal Killer or criminal.
The milk had better be warm today
Sig.na Helpful asked if she could see my original documents, I whispered to Mrs Interpreter that my original documents are languishing in some office in the U.K. and hopefully they will receive the apostille stamp and be back here in ten days.
Sig.na Helpful asked me to sign another self certificate declaring that the photocopies of my original documents were original photocopies !!! I know I am still trying to work that one out. maybe I lost something in the translation.
I was then asked for the marca da bollo, this is a little stamp that cost me €16. It’s at home I said!
Marca da bollo
Don’t worry Sig.na Helpful said you can bring it in next week, or nip out and buy another one. I couldn’t believe my luck, I had been sitting there with my stomach making curious noises and I knew there was an imminent explosion due.
I’ll be right back I said as I ran out of her office, I managed to exit the building before the wind struck.
I drove my interpreter back to her house and then headed off to Cerrina to give an English Lesson.
Because I had an hour to spare I stopped off in a bar for a coffee and a brioche. The bar looked clean and I thought it might be ok to use their toilet.
The hole in the floor
I have lived here ten years and today was the first time I have had to balance above a Turkish Toilet I think if you have a dress it must be easier, all the women need to do is bunch their dress up under their armpits.
If you are wearing trousers there are a multitude of problems, 1. With your trousers around your ankles it is really difficult to open your feet far enough to squat safely above the hole, 2. Attempting to maintain balance with one hand trying to hold your trousers out of danger while squatting is a nightmare.
Just as I managed to get my balance and my thigh muscles stopped shaking, I heard a click and the fricking light went out, I was immediately plunged into darkness.
Stupid Light Sensor
Some energy conscious Italian had installed an automatic light switch!!!
Because this is a family rated blog, I can’t tell you the thoughts that ran through my mind or the words that spilled out of my mouth as I nearly tumbled down the hole.
What I will say is, trying to turn the light back on by waving with one hand in the air, whilst trying to keep your trousers safe and maintain balance, is as easy as riding a unicycle while playing the bagpipes
A talented man
Englishman in Italy 
Ummm, many women wear knickers that also impede assuming the position over one of those toilets. At least that’s what I have been told, by a friend. 😊
So, Italian citizenship in within your grasp, it seems. Wonders will never cease.
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I remember using knicker elastic for my catapults, knickers stretch further than trousers . 🙂
I might get it in 3 to 12 months, hopefully
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The Unipiper of Portland makes a rare U.K. blog appearance! He’s even better when he’s playing his flaming bagpipes. In the snow. http://koin.com/2016/12/08/snow-day-fun-in-the-snow-on-december-8-2016/
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Oh I have missed your humour, great t read your posts again!
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glad you found your way out of the hole
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Oh my goodness. The countries that make commodes non functional, really. Now I know why I am not a fan of traveling. I can only imagine your cursing and frustration. Yep, meds will cause the un-imagined. From constipation to gas or wind if you prefer. If I had been in your shoes I think I would have screamed or perhaps not. I know that scene was not for filming but, gee it would have made one hell-of-a video. 🙂
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I have been hating the turkish toilet since May 1992 when, crashing down with a paragliding against the hard ground, I broke both my ankles. No operation was considered when I was lying in the hospital, despite the bad conditions of my right ankle; I was only put in plaster for three months. The trauma surgeon told me that everything would be right so I didn’t have to warry. And so it was, except my right ankle which had, by now, become as stiff as log due to a bad arthrosis which has not allowed me to bend my right leg any more. This is why I consider you a very lucky man, only having to struggle with your trousers in some turkish toilet. Think about me, connected to the door handle by my waist band and highly hoping nobody will turn the handle.
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Hooray for progress towards citizenship! Boo for ‘hole in the floor’ toilets which I came across on many a skiing holiday in France – not easy to use when wearing thick salopettes (or, even worse, an all in one ski suit)…
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Ha, ha! I have come upon the Turkish toilet only twice – once I had on a summer skirt and I did just as you said. The other time I had on pants. I locked the door, undressed from the waist down, leaving on my shoes and socks as there was no way I was going to touch any part of the floor or “porcelain” with my socks, and did my business. Luckily, at the time I was in decent shape and I remember thanking my lucky stars that the video workouts I had been doing gave me the thigh strength to complete the maneuver.
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I imagine that the Turkish toilets should have been replaced at the same time the desert robes were.
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😂😂😂😂😂
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