A mother in law, a pen knife and the airport police.

Posted on April 3, 2013 by Pecora Nera • Posted in home, Language • Tagged airport security, an englishman in italy, dogs, englishman, expat, fun expats, humour, Italia, italian, italy, language, languages, learning Italian, mother in law, Mrs Sensible, police, translation • 47 Comments

I was going to do a post about the Easter bunny and how he gave Mrs Sensible a dishwasher rather than a chocolate egg, but the stupid rabbit bunny forgot to give me anything. So instead here is a post about Mrs Sensible’s mum, Gatwick Airport and a police caution.

In 2007 Mrs Sensible and I were still living in rainy England. From time to time visitors from Italy would arrive and the language in our house, quickly changed from English to beautiful Italian, except mine of course. Despite the amazing collection of Italian grammar books and dictionaries I had acquired, I soon found mime was easier to learn and much more universal.

Marcel Marceau the master of languages

One of my favourite visitors to our house was my mother in law. One evening while Marta was staying, we were invited to dinner by our friends Gary and Joan. Joan created a delicious meal and during the meal Gary gave my mother in law a beautiful bone handle penknife for her husband. Gary said, he had carved the handle himself, he also strongly suggested that we place the knife in our main luggage when Marta flew home. This was duly translated by Mrs Sensible.

The penknife was a little bit like this.

When I booked Marta’s return flight to Sicily, I was amazed at how low the cost was, and so I also booked a seat for me. I told Mrs Sensible that her mum shouldn’t carry her suitcase by herself, so I would go with her have a 10 day holiday and would be back in the UK quicker than she could say “questa è una cosa molto egoista da fare. Ho bisogno di una vacanza così”

The security at Gatwick Airport was on high alert following various terrorist incidents, so we had to remove our shoes and pass them with our bags and coats through the X ray machine. I didn’t mind the increased precautions, because 1) I didn’t really want to get on a plane that might have a bomb on it and 2) I had left all my dangerous items, such as my battery razor and tooth paste at home. As I walked pass the security guard and reached down to pick up my holdall. A female security guard pointed to Marta’s hand bag and said “Is that yours sir?”

My Hand bag?

Mine!! A handbag! Was she mad? “It belongs to Marta” I said pointing at my mother in law. “Can we look in it please?” she asked.

I shrugged and turning to Marta I mimed, have you got any face cream, bottles or perfume in your bag. Marta smiled at me and shook her head. The security guard was definitely onto something, she was excitedly rummaging through Marta’s bag; the way a sniffer dog might, if it had just sniffed 4 kilos of cocaine in burst bags.

Meet Fleabag the sniffer dog

With a flourish the guard produced Gary’s penknife. As she opened the knife and waved it under our noses there was an audible AAHHH from the other travellers in the queue. I looked at Marta in amazement, this didn’t look like the innocent pen knife Gary had given her, it looked like a Samurai sword, and if the guard didn’t stop waving it about, someone was going to lose an arm.

Policeman with the penknife

I started to apologise, I explained that Marta was Italian, not used to travelling, not a spring chicken, not a terrorist, blah blah blah. I asked if she would kindly dispose of the knife and we would be on our way.

Fifteen minutes later, we were still stood in the naughty corner waiting for the police to come and tell us off. When PC Plod and his sergeant eventually arrived, I again apologised and explained that our flight was due to leave in 15 minutes. I calmly explained the dinner and the gift, it was at the point where I mentioned Marta’s lack of English, that the Policeman asked if we needed an interpreter. It might take an hour or two for the interpreter to arrive, but we need to fill out some forms and your mother in law will need to accept a caution . We don’t need an interpreter; I am bi lingual I said.

Of course I speak fluent Italian

I translated all the questions the policeman asked. Some questions were easy, for example; what is her name or what is her address. But when the policeman asked me to translate, please ask her if she will accept a formal caution or would she prefer to make a statement at the local police station. I resorted to total gobbledygook. I strung as many Italian words that I knew together and kept adding stai zitta (shut up) every time Marta opened her mouth. I am not really sure what Marta thought as I started to say in very very bad Italian “stai zitta, where bathroom? I like kitchen no like knife, no stai zitta, please si si si I said, as I nodded my head.

Marta whose eyes were as wide as saucers, nodded her head. The policeman then gave my mother in law an official police caution. She was warned that if she ever gets into trouble again, this police caution may be taken into account.

Any more trouble from you and…

My mother in law and I ran through the airport to the departure gate, while I tried to explain on the mobile to Mrs Sensible why we hadn’t called her and no I wouldn’t go back and ask the policeman if we could keep the penknife and yes I realised it was a gift for her dad.

Oh how the mighty have fallen.

Posted on March 19, 2013 by Pecora Nera • Posted in home • Tagged an englishman in italy, automatic gate, dog, dog attacks jogger in Italy, dogs, englishman, expat, fun expats, humour, italy, jogging, Mrs Sensible, piemonte • 23 Comments

Oh how the mighty have fallen.

Gilda in the dog house

I am sure you remember Gilder the short-legged but incredibly fat sausage dog who saved her owner from the snake attack last November. Well she is in disgrace at the moment. There is a wolf that lives across the road from us. It is a pleasant dog that although it is big, it only howls at night when it remembers that its mate has died. It very rarely barks. The only time it barks, and then it goes absolutely mental, is when Gilda decides to stroll down to the wolf, bark at him and generally wind him up. When the wolf is in a frenzy, and running up and down the garden fence searching for a way to get at the little fat dog; Gilda deciding her work is done for another day saunters back across the road up our driveway and across to Luiginas house. Her tail at full mast just to wind the wolf up a little more.

If you look carefully you can see the wolf across the road

Now winding the wolf up is one thing, her punishment will surely come when the wolf realises it can jump the garden fence and outrun a dog that relies on legs that are only 3 inches long and needs to breathe in to make sure it’s belly doesn’t scrape along the ground. No, Gilda was incarcerated for joining up with Lila, Luigina’s other dog, which is known for being timid, and Diana a lovely soft Border Collie that lives up the road. The three of them caused a jogger to stop in mid stride.

The terrible threesome, and Gilda was the ringleader decided to surround a jogger who was going about his business of jogging up our road, and bark at him every time he raised a foot, shouted for help or tried to wipe the sweat from his forehead. He was paralysed with fear. Mrs Sensible asked me who Gilda was barking at; I replied she was probably winding up the wolf. Go and have a look please she told asked me. I had a quick glance out of the bathroom window and spotted the jogger who was doing an excellent impersonation of a statue.

Credits to Michelangelo. I think he was Italian

Armed with a sweeping brush, I gallantly went to the rescue. I didn’t really need the brush because the only danger from the three musketeers, would be a good licking. But as I had had to leave the comfort of my warm house, in my flip-flops, PJ bottoms and a coat, I was determined someone was going to suffer. Even if that someone turned out to be the jogger.

Having rescued said jogger, Mrs Sensible decided it was my fault, because I had left our automatic gate open. Please note the word automatic. We have the only automatic gate that is having hormonal problems and requires a good shove to get it to open or close. Friday it was raining and I simply refused to get out of my car and push our automatic gate closed.

Automatic, don’t make me laugh. they can’t even spell it correctly.

And that is why Gilda is in the dog house. A new motor for the gate will cost me around 400 euros (all donations to my paypal account please). The cost of keeping Gilda in Jail is significantly less. It’s a hard life when you are a jogger, wolf or a dog in jail.

Vicious snake attacks defenseless women in Italy

Posted on November 11, 2012 by Pecora Nera • Posted in home • Tagged an englishman in italy, dachshund, dogs, englishman, expat, fun expats, grass snake, heroism, humour, Italia, italian, Italians, italy, l'orto, language, languages, learning Italian, military honours, piemonte, snake, snake attack, vicious snake, viper, workaway • 34 Comments

I know I have just done a post about dogs but Gilda the extremely fat but short legged sausage dog yesterday saved the life of our neighbour Luigina. I know I hinted that Gilda was a good for nothing fat little eating machine but yesterday at about twelve minutes past two in the afternoon she saved her owner’s life.

Luigina who is a spritely 87 years old was brutally stalked and then attacked by a very long snake as she walked across the garden on the way to feed the chickens.The beast of a snake was slithering through the grass with the intentions of impaling its fangs into Luigina’s heel. Fortunately Luigina saw the snake and realising she was in mortal danger she let out a piercing scream and clutched her hands to her breast, OK my imagination is running away a bit but she did shout bestia and wave her hands about a little. (A picture of Luigina can be seen here L’orto and the Fairies)

The snake was badly mauled by Gilda so this is the best I can do

Gilda who heard her mistress’s distress came running to her rescue. Her tail was in the full mast attack position and her belly was clear of the ground by at least 2.5 centimetres. Gilda pounced on the snake and pinning it down with her front paws, she sunk her teeth into the middle of the snake and gave it a really good shake.

Donna our guestaway who is not scared of snakes dead or alive estimated the snake to be about this big.

Upon further inspection by our resident expert (again Donna) the snake was deemed to be a Natrix Natrix or to the uneducated who don’t speak Latin the common grass snake, but as Luigina pointed out it could have been a Vipera Aspis (viper).

I couldn’t find a picture of a Vipera aspis. But this is a Dodge Viper and it will have to do

Luigina is full of praise for Gilda and the snake is still on show for anyone who wants to come and have a look. This coming Saturday Luigina will bury the snake with full military honours near the black fig tree behind the chicken run. Attendees are expected to wear black or full military dress uniform.