One finger one thumb keep moving.

One finger one thumb keep moving.

Today millions of children will be driving their mums and grandparents potty until the schools re-open sometime in September. I join the ranks of adults who are sad the children are now on their three month holiday. Not because I have any school age children who will say “I’m bored, are we going out today”, I am sad because I miss my school pals from Cerrina School.

cerrina Alessandria news

Some of the fabulous children (Allessandria News)

During January Mrs Sensible received a phone call asking if her errant husband would like a part time job teaching English to three classes of primary school children. Initially I declined because I was busy with other work. Two weeks later the school phoned again and Mrs Sensible asked when they wanted me to start.

While Mrs Sensible gave me a pep talk on how to teach and control a class of eight year old’s I was preoccupied pondered which of my many ties I should wear.

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Tigger or Simpsons, mmmm a difficult decision.

For the past couple of years I have helped Mombello School and found the experience great fun, for some unexplained reason 9 year olds accept me as one of their own……  but a class of six year old’s would be a new experience. Mrs S suggested I teach them a song, I was a little worried about this idea as on occasions my singing has frightened little children!

Monday morning as I stood at the front of the class watching little Mario pick his nose with his finger, I pointed at my bogey free finger and shouted FINGER! The kids looked at me slightly alarmed but one or two shouted back finger! I then pointed at my thumb and shouted THUMB and the kids shouted back TUM!

It took a couple of tries before the class were shouting back thumb. Over  a period of 20 minutes we worked our way through hand, arm, leg and head. When I was satisfied that they understood the words, I coaxed them into joining me, singing my rendition of One finger one thumb keep moving.

KeepMoving

There is always one little boy who who doesn’t know the words (credit Macaronisoup)

For the first two weeks the lessons with the six year old’s went brilliantly. The kids loved the song and I was excited with their progress. One evening while I was eating my pizza, Mrs Sensible asked me how my lessons were going and which song i was teaching them, One Finger One Thumb I said. It goes like this….. I put my pizza to one side, stood up and pointed at my finger and then my thumb, I sang One finger one thumb  keep moving, one finger one thumb keep moving, one finger one thumb keep moving we’ll all be merry and bright.Mrs Sensible was transfixed.

As I sang I watched Mrs Sensible screw her eyes up as I hit one or three bad notes, Mrs S gamely sat through my song until I reached the bit that goes… One finger, one thumb, one hand one arm and as I patted my arm Mrs Sensible very nearly choked on her piece of pizza. Noooo she said, please tell me you haven’t taught a class of 6 year olds this song!

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Even the cat looked surprised

Erh! yes, its a good song, they are learning parts of their body and….

You taught them the movements?

Oh for sure, I have the kids stood up tapping their fingers, thumbs arms and singing their little hearts out, they love it.

Oh I bet they do!

Why! Oh I bet they do?

Pecora… Just do the arm bit again, don’t bother with the singing, just the motions.

I tapped my arm and sang (ever so slightly out of tune) one finger, one thumb, one hand, one arm we’ll all be merry and bright.

Mrs S shouted, In Italy tapping your arm and raising it like that is a swear word!

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Beppe Grillo singing my song

In my defense, I didn’t clench my fist, nor did I raise my arm quite as high, ok maybe high enough so that Maria at the back of the class could see me, and in my naivety I didn’t see how tapping my arm could be construed as a swear word.

Mrs Sensible was mortified. She said the chilblains would be going home and singing my song to their parents, even I had to admit it was a little bit of a problem.

It took three weeks to reeducate my class of six year olds that it was not necessary to tap and raise ones arm, it was sufficient to simply point at it. All except Mario the nose picker who much preferred the original version.

Telecom Italia or 2 cans and a bit of string.

Telecom Italia or 2 cans and a bit of string.

Welcome to my new office. You might notice it is full of old men drinking espresso, this is so I can sit here unnoticed and get some work done, well until I open my mouth and order another cappuccino and all heads swivel my way.

Some people in my office are even older than me.... incredible

Some people in my office are even older than me…. incredible

Why don’t I work from home? Two reasons, 1 It is full of scabby cats and 2, there is no internet connection. A week ago I asked Mrs Sensible to phone Telecom Italia and ask them to connect us to the internet, this should be very easy after all we already have 5 working phones scattered around the house.

Don't phone us and we won't phone you.

We value all our customers, even the dead ones.

So Mrs S picked up the phone and called a customer service representative woman at Telecom Italia. She gave them our address and explained that the previous owner of the house had died and we wanted to have the line reconnected (The phone line was working, it just wasn’t in our name) and to also have fast internet. Telecom told her, the contract is still in the dead man’s name and they required a relative of the dead man to write to them and prove he was dead so they can cancel his contract.  While this conversation was in progress I was hopping from foot to foot saying helpful things like “how soon, I need fast internet, tell them I also need a modem. The scowl from Mrs S shut me up.

Stay Connected with your loved ones

Stay Connected with your loved ones

I sent an E mail to the son of Telecom’s dead customer and asked him to prove his dead dad was in fact dead. He told me he had proved to Telecom that he was dead 2 years ago and to his knowledge, things had not changed.

Mrs S phoned Telecom and reached a different woman, she explained their customer was in fact still dead and they had been told he was dead 2 years ago. The  woman said “we know he is dead” Ah ha progress!! Mrs S again gave her details and requested an internet line and phone line. I knew I was allowed to hop from foot to foot but I had to keep silent. When Mrs S put the phone down, the phone that according to Telecom was already disconnected and as dead as their previous customer, she told me Telecom would call me in a couple of days to organise the fitting.  I was sooooo excited.

The best I could hope for

The best I can hope for.

Seven days passed and  no calls, so I harassed Mrs S to call them again.

The conversation went something like this,

Mrs S; You promised to phone Pecora Nera to organise his internet access, when are you going to do this because he is driving me mad.

Telecom: Please will you give me your address.

Mrs S: 2 Green Leaves Road in the middle of the countryside.

Telecom: That is why we didn’t call you, this phone is registered to 13 Old Mill Road in the middle of nowhere.

Mrs S; Can you please update your system as the address is wrong, the council say we live at number 2 Green Leaves, not number 13 Old Mill Road.

And so until Telecom arrive with my 2 tin cans and a long length of string I will have to share my office with 7 old men.

There is a post about our strange address here I will update you on Telecom Italia ASP (at some point)

 

 

 

 

 

It is Monday morning and I really need a bacon butty.

Red Cross Parcel

Red Cross Parcel

It is Monday morning in Italy, it is raining, I am sat in my office sulking and I need a bacon butty (bacon sandwich).

Don’t tell Mrs Sensible, but from time to time I do miss bits of England, bits like crisps, real beer or a bacon butty.

During the summer two of my children came to visit me, “Dad, do you need anything bringing” they asked. The above photo shows the goodies they managed to fit in their suitcase. I think the only clothes Lucy managed to fit in her suitcase, were a pair of jeans and a bikini. We spent the rest of the holiday buying her summer dresses. On hindsight it might have been cheaper, to have air freighted my emergency provisions over and let Lucy fill her case with her own clothes.

Back to rainy Monday and life in my office, I have 25 industrial water pumps in Taiwan that should be sat in my stores, money sat in my customers banks that should be sat in my bank and I really, really need a bacon butty.

I really need a bacon butty

I really need a bacon butty

If I was still sat in my old office in England, it would still be Monday morning, it would still be raining and I would be dreaming of life in Italy. But, and it is only a small but. The sarni shop (sandwich shop) down the hill made fantastic bacon buttys.

I could order a pizza from the local pizzeria, if someone was here to phone them for me, last time I tried it was a total disaster. I never realised how difficult it was to mime down a phone line.

Io bisogno una pizza (I need a pizza)

Cosa? (What)

Mi scusi, Io bisogno una pizza Diavola,  mio indirizzo è strada industriale… (Sorry, I need a Diavola pizza, my address is industrial road…)

Cosa, non capisco?

ARGGGHH! IO SONO INGLESE, IO FAME; IO BISOGNO UNA PIZZA, PLEASE. ( I am English, I am hungry, I need a pizza Please)

CLICK Brrrrrrrr

As I stared at the phone that was still brrrrr ing in my ear, Manzo the nice delivery man from Bartolini, arrived with a parcel. He understood that I was hungry and he phoned the pizzaria on my behalf.

Pizza Diavola

This is a Pizza Diavola. Purchased during the summer from a local pizzeria.

The pizza, complete with a bottle of beer arrived. It was very nice, but I really wanted a bacon butty.

UPDATE….

I have just bust my glasses.

EnglishmaninItaly.org

Just bust my glasses

As if the day was not bad enough, I have just bust my glasses.

Lost your password? Silly boy

 This morning I received an e mail inviting me to make a 30% return on my investment. All I needed to do was click on a link and then enter both my e mail address and e mail password. Duh!!

The scary thing is; the e mail came from a friend (you know who you are 🙂 ) and therefore a trusted e mail address.

I bounced a message to my friend to let her know that her account might have been hacked; I then sat pondering how safe my accounts are.

Every so often I become paranoid regarding internet security and my passwords. I log onto my e mail accounts, bank accounts, amazon, facebook, wordpress oh the list goes on and on and change my passwords with some new and devious password made up of  upper-case letters sprinkled with a few numbers and the odd Ὧ©ⅎ. The passwords become utterly unbreakable, even by me.

I then spend the next 3 weeks filling out the “have you lost your password again, stupid boy,”  just so that I can log into my internet life.

Twit form

Twit form

I have used passwords centred around the names of my children, wife and next doors  extremely fat but short legged sausage dog. I have even tried dates of birth, marriage & birthdays, but boy did it get me into trouble when I  asked Mrs Sensible the date we married.

In the end I have decided to simplify this password nonsense. I have decided to use the same password and phrase on all my accounts , one I won’t forget in a hurry. New password: Yourintroubleagain21

Crying into my Cappuccino

Fedex

Fedex

Even a well oiled organisation like Fedex grinds to a halt, when it crosses into Italian territory. I am not surprised but it doesn’t stop me from crying into my cappuccino.

I ordered two small parts from Taiwan to be delivered by Fedex.  It is interesting to see how efficient Fedex is.

Elvis in Taiwan (yes that is his real name, and he is alive and kicking) despatched the parcel Friday 5.58 pm January 18th 2013

Fedex Taiwan

Fedex Taiwan all good so far

The little parcel winged it’s way to China and arrived the very next day, Saturday 1.23 am January 19th 2013.

Fedex China

Fedex China

Leaving China behind my little but very urgent parts flew to Germany and arrived the same day at 3.08 PM January 2013

Germany Fedex

Fedex Germany (very efficient)

The Germans didn’t mess around they grabbed the little parcel and with German efficiency they stuck it on a plane to France. Where it arrived later that day 11.30pm January 19th 2013.

Fedex France

Fedex France (No time to stop for onions or garlic)

The French, looked at the parcel, realising that it was of no value agreed to send it to Italy where it arrived the following day at 8.54am January 20th 2013

And then unfortunately the Italians got involved.

Fedex Italy

Fedex Italy (All the time in the world – Italy mini tour)

As you can see Fedex Italy like my parcel, they are running it around Italy and showing it to everyone. Franco sent the parcel to Vito in Alessandria (which is half an hour from me) and Vito decided to send it back to Franco because Marco and Maria hadn’t seen it.

Franco then sent the parcel back to Vito in Alessandria (Which I hasten to point out is very close to me) but the bu&%er won’t answer his phone.

My little but very urgent parcel has spent more time in Italy than it spent travelling the world. But “ma” this is Italy.

Maybe it might turn up tomorrow, or more probable, Vito in his infinite wisdom will send it back to Elvis.

Spag Bog at Christmas

I am the only Englishman in our company, we have a lot of Italians, one Albanian and two savage cats. But only one Englishman.

Every year just before Christmas, everyone receives a large Panettone. This is very much like a cross between a soft bread and a fruit cake. And please don’t you Italians get your knickers in a twist over my description because I like them as much as the next Englishman Italian.

panettoneonnewyears2

Throughout the year, we play quite a lot of practical jokes on each other. Nobody has yet beat my lesson on English swear words. But they do try.

This morning we all received our Panettone, and I had a little gift prepared for them; ten 200 gram tins of  Heinz Spaghetti Bolognese (Spag Bog)

Spag bog

As I reverently, handed them out. I was greeted with amusement, bemusement and the odd remark of  “ma que skifo”  Marco wanted to know if the pasta in the can was dry and did he have to add water, while  Lorenzo discretely tried to abandon his can on the desk.

I tried really hard to convince them that this is how we prefer our Spaghetti Bolognese in England.

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Merry Christmas to you all.

Pecora Nera

An English lesson on how to swear.

One of the engineers in our factory, asked me to teach him a few English words. Ok I said what do you want to know.

English swear words please.

I decided to help Lorenzo out, because I am that kind of guy. So while we were stood by the coffee machine I started his first English lesson.

swear-wordLorenzo the first and most important swear word you will need and use in the factory is… nasty. In England we use this word all the time. For example, when a car driver cuts you up, we shout out of the window “you are nasty” and if someone spills wine on you, you may call them nasty. “Is it like stupido he asked” oh no much worse, it is very vulgar.

I then leaned closed to Lorenzo, making sure I didn’t spill my coffee on him and conspiritally whispered, “There is a really bad English swear word but if I tell you it, you must never use it, when Mrs Sensible is in the office or I will be in big trouble.”

Lorenzo’s eyes lit up. And I whispered “naughty” or if you want to be really rude say “you are very naughty”  With a straight face, I spent a good ten minutes making sure Lorenzo had mastered how to pronounce these two swear words and then I walked back to my office.

Later during the morning, I wandered back through the factory to the drinks machine. I fancied another coffee,  I seem to live on them while I am at work. As I took a sip of the coffee, I heard Davide shout “Sei nauoooty”  and Lorenzo reply non è vero. It seems the new swear words were working their way around the factory. I am sure, the infatuation with my new English swear words will die out on Thursday. Because on Thursday Marco will be back at the factory and his English is pretty good, and besides I taught him a whole list of proper swear words one evening over a beer.

But for the moment I can’t walk down the factory without grinning as the engineers call each other nauoooty and nasty.