They even took the kitchen sink!!!

They even took the kitchen sink!!!

Your dream has finally come true. After many years of dreaming and persuading your partner that moving to Italy is a good idea you finally arrive. With satisfaction you remember handing in your notice to your old boss and laughing when he said “you’ll be back”. Finally you are here, in Belle Italia. Hopefully the Italian subsidiary of your freight company has only misplaced your furniture and hopefully it will turn up in a couple of weeks.

Do you remember your last visit to Italy, the time you were walking around the house that you and your partner decided to rent / buy? Can you remember how the sun shone in through the kitchen window and made the shiny taps and stainless steel sink sparkle? I bet it was a shock when you finally entered the house and realised that not only had they removed all the door handles and light switches but the beautiful kitchen cupboards and sink are also missing. If only they had left a roll of toilet paper in the bathroom you could wipe the tear from your eye.

They even took the kitchen sink

They even took the kitchen sink (Rustyduck.net)

I really am not exaggerating, Italians view their kitchen cupboards and sink the same way they view their leather sofa or their bed. When they move house, they will take it all with them. What you are buying / renting is a house, this means something that has four walls, a roof, windows and a door. But don’t worry they will leave you the bidet although the chances are you will use it for washing your feet and not your bum.

Last week I was talking with Georgette from Girl in Florence and we decided to write about our experiences of renting houses in Italy so please go and read her post, it is full of sensible advice.

Mrs Sensible and I have lived in Italy for seven years and in that time we have moved house three times, we have viewed quite a few houses in our search, so here are a few of our experiences.

House no 1 Rent 220.00 euros a month

A nice little house but

A nice little house but it had a funky smelling bathroom. You can see the entrance and the bedroom at the rear.

Mrs Sensible chose to rent this furnished house, she took this decision without my input, because she was tired of living in a nunnery with a collection of nuns, whilst I enjoyed eating bacon sandwiches and drinking pints of beer in the UK. Honest, the nuns rented her a cell room for 2 months while I was still in the UK

This first house had one bedroom, a kitchen sink and a little problem with rising damp. The bathroom had been built over the septic tank, which meant the bathroom always had a funky smell to it, regardless of the number of times we scrubbed it with bleach. We loved the little house, for Mrs Sensible is was a short walk to her school and I didn’t have far to walk to the bar. There were two reasons why we moved house, the first was the funky smelling bathroom and the second reason, was the embarrassment of asking friends who had flown over from the UK if they minding sleeping in the lounge on a blow-up bed next to the table..

Lots of visitors from the UK camped in our lounge

Lots of visitors from the UK camped in our lounge

One afternoon when we were driving in the countryside I suddenly stopped the car and pointed to a house that had the sign AFFITTO nailed to the wall. I demanded that Mrs S phone the woman and ask her for some information.

Mrs S: Hello, we have just seen your house with the for rent sign, can you tell me a little about it.

Crazy Women: It has a bathroom, kitchen, lounge and a bedroom.

Mrs S: So it doesn’t have a second bedroom?

Crazy Woman: How many will be living in my house?

Mrs S: Just me and my Husband

Crazy Woman: So why do you need a guest room?

Mrs S: In case my parents want to visit or if we have friends from the UK to visit.

Crazy Woman: Oh I don’t think I am happy about guests staying.

CLICK

I dragged Mrs Sensible to look at a beautiful villa in Conzano overlooking the valley, the rent was 550.00 a month which was over the budget we had set ourselves. It was furnished with Sicilian antiques; there were 4 bedrooms, a study, lots of balconies, a large private garden; I was in love. We both walked around the house and discussed if the rent was affordable, I was like a child in a sweet shop, almost skipping with joy. Every time I passed Mrs S I whispered into her ear just tell them yes.

Mrs S started to discuss something with the owners, I knew there was bad news coming, I just felt the atmosphere change.

Me: Just say yes.

Mrs S: The boiler is fired with gasolio.

Me: Just say yes.

Mrs S: The boiler heats air and then blows it around the house through those air ducts.

Me: OK, say yes.

Mrs S: It will cost a fortune to heat this house; this is really a house only to be used as a summer house.

Me: But it is fab, please say yes.

Mrs S: No

Me: Pleeeeaaaasssse.

The boiler was a littlw out of date

The central heating boiler was a little out of date

One afternoon Mrs S took me to look at a house that she had found in Terruggia. Terrugia is a rather nice village and the rent for the house was €500.00 euros a month. The house had been split up into 2 apartments, one on each floor and the owner kept a private studio on the top floor. The apartment we looked at was on the second floor. As we climbed the communal staircase (I was still thinking about the dream villa) we were shown into the apartment. It was spectacular, the dinning-room and lounge were open plan and furnished with leather sofas, there was a nice kitchen and a small but adequate bathroom. While Mrs S wandered around the kitchen I suddenly realised the absence of anything that looked like a bedroom.

There was a very impressive wooden wardrobe in the lounge and I opened the door to see if the bedroom door had been cleverly disguised. Nothing, it was just an empty wardrobe. I walked over to Mrs S and said “I don’t want to appear stupid, but where will we sleep, I can’t find any bedrooms.

I wasn't sure what I would find when I opened the wardrobe, maybe a bedroom or maybe a lion and a witch

I wasn’t sure what I would find when I opened the wardrobe, maybe a bedroom or maybe a lion and a witch

Mrs Sensible: My husband has just asked were the bedrooms are.

Owner: Ahh! You are in the day side of the house; let me show you the night side of the house.

Me: What did he say?

Mrs S: Wait!

The owner walked to the front door and opened it; he walked across the communal staircase and unlocked another door.

Owner: The night side of the house is through here, look there are 2 bedrooms and a shower room.

Me: You are kidding me! So when I want a glass of water in the middle of the night, I have to go in search of the keys to open 2 doors and walk naked across a communal staircase to get to the kitchen!!!

Mrs S: You will have to wear pyjamas.

Me: I don’t wear pyjamas.

Mrs S: You will have to put on your dressing gown.

Me: And if I forget and the neighbour sees me streaking across the staircase?

Mrs S: PN!!!

I think part of my dislike for the house (a really small part) was because I wanted the magnificent villa with the Sicilian furniture and diesel fired central heating.

The third house we looked at was frankly just amazing. We were made to stand outside in the rain while the owner showed some other viewers his house. While the rain ran down my neck I asked Mrs S how much the rent on the house was. €600 a month she told me. Wow it must be fantastic.

How to expand your house the italian way

How to expand your house the italian way

We entered the house and walked down a hallway, there was a sofa in the hallway that we had to navigate around. The hallway opened into a good sized dining room complete with a very large table. There was a very, very small kitchen through a door. As we stood in the kitchen I showed Mrs Sensible how I could touch all four walls without moving my feet.  Stop it she told me, there will be another kitchen elsewhere maybe upstairs.

I walked back to the hallway and sat on the sofa.

Owner: (in Italian) Ah you have found the lounge.

Me: Sorry I don’t understand, I am English.

Mrs Sensible: She said you are sitting in the lounge.

Me: (hysterically) ask her where the kitchen is.

Mrs S: Can you please tell me where the kitchen is.

Owner: It is small but it is through that door….

Me: Let’s go home.

We went upstairs and viewed a large bathroom, down a corridor there was a door that led to bedroom number 1, on the other side of the bedroom was another door that led into bedroom number 2, and if you walked through that room there was yet another door leading to bedroom number 3.

Me: This is bizarre, if we have guests in bedroom number 3, they will have to walk through two bedrooms if they need to visit the bathroom. This house is just a mass of corridors with no proper rooms.

Owner: What did your husband say?

Mrs S: He said you have a very nice house.

To this day I am not sure how they fitted three large bedrooms and a bathroom upstairs and only a corridor and a dining-room downstairs.

To end this post I want to direct you to one of my earlier posts on the hazards of owning a summer house in Italy.

Link A little Summer House

Our house

Our house

DSC04251

Christmas truce Scooby Doo and Gilda Style.

Can a Machiavellian cat and an incredibly fat, but short-legged dog call a truce over Christmas?

Two months ago Scooby Doo adopted us and moved into my garage. At the moment he is in arrears with his rent, I sat down with Scooby Doo and discussed his lack of payment; the following day he left half a mouse. Obviously I was less than happy with the payment, so I gave him a stern talking too. The following day Scooby Doo left me a small brown slightly warm lump in the middle of my garage floor. I have left further payment discussions to Mrs Sensible.

I am patiently waiting for NHS Supplies to come and collect their cat

I am patiently waiting for NHS Supplies to come and collect their cat

I am not really a cat person, I like dogs, big dogs that can chase and fetch sticks. I have repeatedly suggested to Mrs Sensible that we should rescue / buy a big daft dog. Mrs Sensible always points out that we have Gilda.

Gilda is the incredible fat but short-legged dog that belongs to Luigina and lives next door.

Gilda in trouble yet again
Gilda in trouble yet again

Link to Gilda 

Gilda and Scooby Doo have a love hate relationship, Scooby Doo hates Gilda and Gilda loves to chase Scooby Doo. In November I posted the pictures of the great cat chase  between Gilda, Lila and Scooby Doo. Sadly earlier this month Lila passed away to doggy heaven.

The great cat chase

The great cat chase

Last week Mrs Sensible shouted me

Mrs S: PN!! Quickly come here.

PN: Nope I am busy. (I think I was catching up on blogs from fellow bloggers either that or I was chilling on the sofa)

Mrs S: You will never believe it, quick where is your camera?

PN: Uffa! It’s here, why?

Mrs S: Quick look out of the window.

And there it was, Scooby Doo and Gilda eating cat food from the same tray. I was not surprised that Gilda was eating cat food, Gilda eats anything, she is the only dog that eats grass because she is hungry and doesn’t barf afterwards.

Gilda and Scooby Doo enjoying a romantic meal together

Gilda and Scooby Doo enjoying a romantic meal together

I was so surprised, I had to check that it was Gilda, so I called her “Yo! fat dog you are supposed to chase the cat” Gilda looked suitably ashamed.

Yo! Fat dog, you are supposed to chase the cat

Yo! Fat dog, you are supposed to chase the cat

Now the real question is, have they called a truce because it is Christmas? Will the truce last till boxing day?

Clearly the fat dog likes cat food

Clearly the fat dog likes cat food

Merry Christmas from Mrs Sensible, myself, Scooby Doo who is in temporary residence and Gilda the incredible fat but short-legged dog.

The whirling dervish from Vileda

My mum bought me a train when I was five, it had flashing lights and made a whoo whoooo sound. I was quite impressed with my present, mainly because it wasn’t another pair of mittens connected together with string. My mum was less than impressed with my train. She said: “The man at the market said it was supposed to move.” Picking the train up from the carpet, my mum carried it through to the kitchen and set it down. It immediately went Whooo whooo, screeched across the linoleum, swivelled around 3 times on its axis and came haring back towards me. Being a bright boy I had spotted the imminent danger and decided to go running back into the lounge screaming and shouting and looking for my dad.

 

Whoo whooo

Whoo whooo

 

I hid the monstrous train at the bottom of my wardrobe with my collection of mittens.

 

The usual present

Despite the string I usually managed to loose at least one of the mittens

Fast forward to present day and imagine my horror when Mrs Sensible arrives home with a battery powered hoover. Although it doesn’t have flashing lights or go whoo whoo, it does drive me mad. It is a fiendish gadget developed by Vileda, who, in my humble opinion, should stick to making mops.

 

Vileda Whirling Dervish

Vileda Whirling Dervish

Before my wife leaves for work (she leaves at stupid o’ clock in the morning) she switches the hoover on and lets it wander up and down the hall, thus saving either of us the task of cleaning the hall. This would have been a really wonderful idea, except I hate how just as I am halfway through a nice dream, the hoover bangs into the bedroom door and wakes me up; I just manage to drop off to sleep and engage in my dream just in time for the robot to travel down the hall and return to frantic crashes against the door. It doesn’t go whooo whoo, like my train, it goes mmeennnnhhuuummm, mmeennnnhhuuummm,  BANG, mmeennnnhhuuummm, mmeennnnhhuuummm, bang, bang, bang, mmeennnnhhuuummm.

Fortunately a couple of months ago it developed a fault: the stupid hoover forgot how to steer in a straight line; all it could manage was to swivel on its axis and clean a perfect circle. In my infinite wisdom I decided it was beyond repair and hid it at the back of the garage. Mrs Sensible did wonder if it was an act of sabotage.

Yesterday Mrs Sensible came home with the latest housewife cleaning aid: another battery powered hoover (notice I didn’t use the term house-husband). At least this one can only work when it is safely attached to Mrs Sensible’s hand.

 

 

Hand assisted mop

Mrs Sensible’s hand assisted mop

 

Weekly photo challenge: the sign says

Share a picture of a SIGN and explain why you chose that picture!

I don’t normally do the photo challenges, however here are two photos from Italy.

One way only.

One way only ?

Italians see road signs and traffic lights, as advisory rather than obligatory.

To give you a couple of examples, I stopped at a red traffic light while we were driving in Catania Sicily. The guy in the car behind me, started honking his horn and waving his hand at me. I looked at Mrs Sensible and said, “what’s his problem, the light is still red!”

Mrs Sensible explained, “the light may be red, but there are no cars crossing the junction so it is safe to go”

It is said that the drivers in Northern Italy are better than the drivers in the south but:-

I was  driving a friend home one night, she was directing me through the traffic, as we approached her apartment, she said “turn left here”

“I can’t it is a no entry”

It doesn’t matter I am a resident

But it doesn’t say, no entry except residents, it is a one way street!!

Pecora, it doesn’t matter, my apartment is just up the street. I have lived here 15 years and I always turn left up here.

Don't use a pedestrian crossing to cross,

Don’t use a pedestrian crossing to cross,

This photo was taken in Calabria.

When you come to Italy on your holiday, please do not use the zebra crossings when you want to cross the street. There are a number of reasons.

1) You will annoy the car drivers who use them to park there cars.

2) They are very dangerous, no really they are. As you start to cross the road, you will be thinking  you are safe and the car will stop for you. I am here to tell you, it is not so. The driver is thinking, mmm pizza today, I had better phone my mum and make sure she has put the beer in the fridge. He will not have even noticed you, not unless you have long legs and a short skirt. And even then he will still run you over.

When I moved here, I drove Mrs Sensible’s car from the UK to Italy, I took the scenic route and drove through, Belgium, Switzerland a bit of Germany… I didn’t have one near miss or accident.

Two weeks after arriving here, I stopped at a zebra crossing in Alessandria, to let an old guy cross the road. The old guy never moved he just stood there and watched the Ford Transit Van redesign my boot and bumper.

While we were exchanging insurance details, the van driver asked Mrs Sensible “Why did he stop?”

Because he is English!

This post is for the WordPress Weekly Photo Challenge.

Part 3: How to swap a UK driving licence to an Italian one in 340 difficult steps

Englishman in Italy

Englishman in Italy

Quick update to part 1 and part 2

So I have just received a telephone call from Mr Cretino, the man who is supposed to be transferring my UK driving licence to an Italian one. To be honest I do not receive many calls on my Italian mobile, normally the caller is Mrs Sensible asking what sort of trouble I am about to or are in. Sometimes Vodafone or one of the other networks call to try and get me to swap carriers, but they give up as soon as they here…. Io sono inglese!!

This afternoon Mr Cretino called, so I asked Luagina the secretary at work to talk to him. The long and short of it is, when I married Mrs Sensible we hyphenated our surnames. It was all my fault I wanted to add her Italian surname to mine.

I am the proud owned of a mix of official documents, some in my birth surname and some in my adopted Italian hyphenated surname name. Mr Cretino is more than a little confused, as is his office.

As I type this, Mrs Sensible is trying to resolve the situation. I somehow have to prove I am both the pazzo inglese with the hyphenated name and also the pazzo inglese with the birth surname.

An update is sure to follow tomorrow.

 

P.N

Part 1

Part 2 

Part 4

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Summer Skiing in Italy

Driving home at lunch time, I spotted two old dears running down the road, whilst madly waving a pair of ski poles around. Now I have lived in Italy for the past 6 years and so nothing surprises me. But I must say, these two old dears in their stretch running pants piqued my interest.  (Photo will be uploaded later)

So in the interest of science, I have done a little research.

Summer Skiing

Summer skiing. Very safe unless you trip over each other.

It seems that Summer Skiing is considered to be a safe sport. It is highly unlikely that you will fly home from your Skiing trip complete with a plaster cast. Whereas in winter skiing, a plaster cast is considered by many drinking companions, to be adequate proof that you actually did go winter skiing in the Alps.

2 Summer Skiing Englishman in Italy

Skiing in wellies is perfectly acceptable.

The cost of the clothing is also quite reasonable. You do not have to spend the kids inheritance on fashionable ski attire. It is quiet acceptable to go summer skiing in wellies, jeans and a silly hat.

3 Summer Skiing Englishman in Italy

Learners on a nursery slope.

But with all sports, it is very important to find the best summer ski instructor. Here you can see three beginners getting to grips with this demanding sport.

4 Summer Skiing Englishman in Italy

These are not English Summer Skiers, because there is not a knotted hanky or beer belly in sight.

Although I do not condone summer skiing on a beach, in my opinion beaches are for relaxing, and sunbathing, not running around waving dangerous ski poles. It is advisable to check with your  local authorities for restrictions.

5 Summer skiing Englishman in Italy

Summer Skiing in your garden

Your own garden is a very good place to practise Summer Skiing. After all, if you are worried about falling down and getting tangled up with your ski poles, it is better to do so in your own garden, rather than out on the road where someone might have a handy camera.

Summer skiiing Englishman in Italy

Summer Skiing is also an indoor sport.

For those rainy days, and here I am thinking of the people who still live in England, Summer Skiing can take place in the comfort of your own home. A word of warning, cornering around the coffee table should only be undertaken by experienced Summer Skiers. And please mind the dog.

Summer skiing englishman in italy

No special footwear is necessary.

So to recap. Apart from the cost of two sticks ski poles, the cost of this sport is very low. No ski lift passes, no expensive medical bills and you don’t have to freeze to death.

A video paints a few thousand words.

I have decided it is time for another sensible post. We have had enough mirth and merriment. So  today we will look at the low-cost airlines, that we like to whinge about.

Frederick R. Barnard in 1921 coined the phrase “A picture paints a thousand words” (see I do my research)

So here is….    A video paints a few thousand words, attributed to Pecora Nera 2013

Yorkshire Airlines

Fascinating Aida

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

Sicily, Malta, string and a little bit of sticky back plastic.

Mrs Sensibles mum and dad, live near Ragusa in Sicily. I have spent the past seven years dropping hints that it might be nice for us to live near them. It might save the 3000km road trip we take every summer and Christmas (not that I am complaining) So I was quite interested to read this article  in the Times of Malta.

It seems that Malta is going to connect its electricity to the grid in Italy via Sicily. I really think one or two people will go grey before this project is finished.

I think the boffins in Malta should have a quick read of this, and then either scrap the idea or run a longer cable to Spain.

I love Italy and especially Sicily, but trying to connect an electrical cable between Sicily and Malta (the place of my birth) and expect it to work is utter madness. They should try something easier; maybe build a bridge from Sicily to Malta or solve the European debt crises.

I did a little bit of research and I will send my findings to the boffins in Malta.

Here is the connector that Malta has proudly designed.

Malta's electrical cable

Malta Cable

And here is the connector that Sicily is working on.

Italian Connection

Sicily Cable

As you can see they are pretty close. I guess the boffins will have to go to Gatwick Airport and buy a travel adapter so that they can connect the two cables together.

I wish them luck.

Rabbit, pizza or starve..

Last night Mrs Sensible and I agreed to meet after work in the town centre. Neither of us wanted to cook, so we decided to blow the housekeeping on a well deserved meal out.

Our first stop was the Chinese restaurant near the hospital. I had promised not to order everything that appears on the menu. I tend to get a bit carried away in Chinese restaurants and order loads and loads. I then send Mrs Sensible completely batty, by complaining that I am too full and need to consider dieting.

Unfortunately it was only ten past six, and I am sure you are aware, Italians eat at strange times. The guy who was setting the tables said “Velly solly closed, open later…”

We tried Santa Lucia the Italian Pizzeria / Restaurant, which was also closed even though it stated on the door that it opened at 6.30 ….. I checked my watch and it was 6.50.

I said “ok lets go home and I will cook bangers and mash.”

Oh good Mrs Sensible said we have some nice sausages in the fridge.

“Really… I didn’t know”

Yes they are pork and ( I was waiting for the word apple) rabbit. RABBIT!!! Cuddly, fluffy rabbit.

Fluffy bunny

Fluffy bunny

Frustrated peeved and miffed, I steered Mrs Sensible down the main street. Mrs Sensible walked into a shop that sold SLABS of pizza. She bought 2 pieces. I declined, I refuse to eat food that doesn’t look appealing and I was sulking.

They didn't look as nice as this

They didn’t look as nice as this

As we walked back to the car, Mrs Sensible started to lecture me on why I did want any SLABS of pizza. She said I was behaving like a naughty spoilt child. I tried to defend myself by explaining that I won’t eat Mc Donalds or Burger King even if I am starving.

On the way back to the car park we passed Santa Lucia the restaurant. Lo and behold it was open.  Food I said as I dragged her in the restaurant . Ok  ok she said I will take the pizza SLABS to work for my dinner.

As Mrs Sensible disappeared to visit the little girl’s room I ordered a glass of red wine and for Mrs Sensible some fizzy water.

The food was great, and by the time we had finished the meal Mrs Sensible had forgiven me for sulking.

And the SLABS of pizza…. Mrs Sensible had put the plastic bag that held them on the floor next to her chair, and when we left the restaurant she forgot to pick them up….

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.

IMG_00000176

Merry Christmas to you all.

Pecora Nera

Electrickery

It is getting cold and at the moment and we don’t want to use the central heating, because our gas does not come from the mains, it is delivered by a tanker and it costs a fortune. The first year we lived in Italy we received a 998.00 euro gas bill for two winter months. We are now pretty frugal and stay warm with jumpers and shivering. So last night on the way home from work I purchased an electric heater for the bathroom (don’t mention electricity and bathrooms as that is the least of my problems) Purchasing this one item started a argument   discussion  with Mrs Sensible on ‘why does Italy have to be so complicated’. I tried to use the difference between Italian and English plugs as an example to no avail.

In the UK we have 2 plugs. The standard fused plug.

For any Italians reading this we have a fuse in the plug for safety and we don’t use sellotape to join the wires together.

The two pin shaver plug.

UK Shaver plug

UK Two pin shaver plug

We also have a simple adapter should you want to use the shaver in a standard plug socket.

UK Adapter

All very nice and easy. It is because we have an organisation in the UK called the British Standards Institution (BSI) based in Chiswick London who try to keep things orderly and simple. Don’t misunderstand me the Italians also have an organisation it is probably based in Napoli and will go by the initials UGC or the longer form Uno Grande Casino (a big mess). In the office of UGC Giuseppe will scratch his ear with his chewed pencil and try to work out how to make life more complicated for the average Italian. If he isn’t devising a new law that requires new electrical heaters to be fitted with non standard plugs he will be drafting new laws that contradict existing laws.

Back to the plugs.

In Italy they have standardised on lots of plugs. They have the two pin plug that is very similar to the UK shaver plug. Don’t try to use it in an English shaver socket as it won’t fit unless you modify it with a pair of pliers by bending the pins.

Small two pin plug

 The small three pin plug that is found on laptops, hoovers and small heaters

Small three pin plug

And the large three pin plug that is also found on computers, hoovers and small heaters

Large three pin plug

The strange and very stupid appliance plug that is found on washing machines, dish washers and cookers.

Appliance plug

Our house should be fitted with these elongated plug sockets
so that at least two of the plugs will fit. Unfortunately the house was refurbished by an Italian and we have some rooms with large sockets and some with small sockets and nowhere is there a  socket to accommodate the appliance plug. What we do have is an assortment of adaptors that enable us to fit a large plug into a small socket or a small plug into a large socket.

We also have adapters so that we can fit the appliance plug into small or large sockets. But they are always hard to find. I can buy 3 of each and two weeks later they have vanished.

To make life even more interesting we have a toaster, kettle, hoover and various lights that still have UK plugs fitted. Four years ago I did consider removing the UK plugs and change them for Italian plugs. I was dissuaded as soon as I realised that Italian plugs do not contain fuses and I couldn’t choose between large or small Italian plugs.

To plug my reading lamp that has a UK plug on it,  into my bedroom socket I need to use a European UK/Italian adapter.

I also need to use a  large to small Italian adapter and a three-way adapter so that I can use my laptop at the same time.

Utter madness!!!

One evening after pondering the plug problem over a glass of grappa I devised the perfect solution, I would standardise all our sockets and plugs, we would use one size only. In fact we would swap to the English Standard. I would order from Amazon 30 UK sockets and a bag full of UK plugs. Mrs Sensible said no.

I tried to negotiate, I pleaded, I cried, and I gnashed my teeth but still she said no. So I am stuck with the Italian system, I think my wife was worried that I was trying to create a little bit of England in Italy, something I could show to my Italian friends when they came around to our house for shepherd’s pie and brown ale.

And the little heater I bought, which plug did it have? Of course an appliance plug.