The Glorious Twelfth

Posted on April 1, 2015 by Pecora Nera • Posted in Uncategorized • Tagged Glorious Twelfth, hunting in Italy, mosquitoes in italy, Mrs Sensible, Pecora Nera • 31 Comments

The glorious twelfth is a term used usually to refer to the 12^th of April, the start of the hunting season in Italy for the common mosquito (Bitius Leggius) and to a lesser extent the tiger mosquito (aggressive-bitius).

Mosquito Latin name Bitius Leggius

Experienced mosquito hunters will have a preferred weapon of choice; from the low tech ‘attempting to hit them with the flat of the hand’ to the high tech use of modified squash rackets which release a thousand volt current when applied to a poor unsuspecting mosquito.

Here we have an advanced mosquito hunter using the racket, note the clever use of a netting to catch a mosquito Credit www.oshonews.com

Hunting is not restricted to woodlands and gardens. Many households incorporate a number of ingenious devices to trap mosquitoes inside the house so that the family can hunt the mosquitoes at their leisure. They may include netting over the windows and doors or netting over a bed.

Hunting mosquitoes can also take place at night. To an Italian the pure joy of waking up in the middle of the night to the sound of the whining noise of a mosquito trapped in a bedroom can only be equaled to Italy winning the Six Nations Rugby Championship, which to date they have failed to do.

Look lads, this time next year we will win.

To ensure that there are sufficient mosquitoes to last from the Glorious Twelfth through to the 3^rd of November; which is not only the end of the hunting season but also my birthday, farmers are encouraged to flood low lying fields to provide adequate water for the mosquitoes to breed. A by-product of flooding the fields during the summer is the production of rice for risotto, which the farmers sell to supplement their income. Vercelli in Piemonte is the centre of mosquito and rice production.

Mosquito farmer checking the mosquitos will be ready for the start of the season

Mosquito farmer checking the mosquitoes will be ready for the Glorious Twelfth : Credit Thestar.com.my

In America hunters wear high visibility clothing to identify themselves to other hunters. In Italy we are a little more fashion conscience, Italian hunters therefore identify themselves by spraying their bodies with liberal doses of noxious smelling sprays. The most common odour is citronella.

David with his industrial sprayer: Credit Mosquito Squad

The monferrato area of Italy is world renown for not only the quality of its mosquitoes but also their quantity and size.

Mrs Sensible and I will be running residential courses through 2015 on:-

Safety whilst Hunting

First aid for mosquito bites

Taxidermy, the lost art of mounting a mosquito head

Wine and grappa will be served as refreshments. For more information please use our contact form

Finally a picture of Pecora Nera ☺

Posted on March 24, 2015 by Pecora Nera • Posted in Uncategorized • Tagged englishman in italy, expat fun, italian school, monbello, Mrs Sensible, Pecora Nera, working with children • 44 Comments

Mrs Sensible and I are a little shy, we haven’t posted any pictures of ourselves, well apart from that nude selfie that caused a little bit of a stir a year or two ago. The link can be found here for those ~~perverts~~ that missed it. It has taken over a year for Mrs Sensible to forgive me for posting our nude selfie.

On Tuesday afternoons, I visit a local primary school and spend a couple of hours with some fabulous ~~chilblains~~ children, helping them with their English. My motivation for helping at the school is completely selfish, I go because I get paid in smiles, little letters and drawings.

So for you entertainment here are a couple of pictures drawn by the children.

Aren’t I a handsome fellow

As you can see there is not an inch of fat on my muscular body, the artist even managed to capture my designed stubble.

Black and white

This artist is trying to minimalist the drawing to capture my radiant smile.

His name is Pecora Nera, he has got short brown hair and maybe he over did it with the diet.

As you can see, I smile a lot. I am also tall, slim and incredibly handsome. That diet paid off

This little girl was given A+++ for her accurate description.

What more can I add? I am tall, thin and very very beautiful.

Here is Anna the teacher

Here is a picture of Anna who is their teacher, this picture was obviously drawn at 9.00 am on a Monday morning, just look how calm and in control she is.

Anna On Friday

This picture was drawn at 4.30 on a Friday afternoon, can you see the way the artist has captured her slightly manic grin. If you look closely, you can see under the grin the artist had drawn a un-smiley face and then thought it was safer to give Anna a smiley face.

No children were hurt in the making of this post.

The penalties of not learning the language

Posted on March 18, 2015 by Pecora Nera • Posted in Uncategorized • Tagged an englishman in italy, italain language. learning italian, looking for work in Italy, Mrs Sensible, Pecora Nera • 32 Comments

I am always trying to improve my Italian language skills, every ~~day~~ ~~week~~ year I manage to add a couple of new words to my vocabulary. This summer we are going to spend a couple of months in Sicily with “The Family” this is the highlight of my year. Glorious sun, sea and two months of living in a house where the language effortlessly swaps between Italian and Sicilian dialect.

I can normally manage to impress my in-laws with my grasp of the Italian language by smiling at the correct moment and tutting when everybody else tuts. I have also found, that a lot of questions can be answered by shrugging my shoulders and saying cosi cosi (so so).

Because my language skills are so bad, I can empathise with anybody who is trying to learn or use a foreign language. So please excuse me for posting the following picture that I spotted in the local shop. The young woman was looking for work and tried to add a bit of English to her advert.

Young woman with references searches for work as Help in the house, Looking after old people or as a baby sister

I suggested to Mrs Sensible that we should help this young women as I really could do with a young and beautiful ~~niece~~ baby sister. The look I got told me that Mrs S didn’t think her references were good enough.

How authentic an Italian are you?

Posted on March 16, 2015 by Pecora Nera • Posted in Uncategorized • Tagged an englishman in italy, clothes, cosi, driving abroad, driving in italy, Italian fashion, living in italy, Mrs Sensible, Pecora Nera, Pecora Nera blog • 58 Comments

I asked Mrs Sensible if I could pass for an Italian, not a chance she said, you don’t dress like an Italian, you don’t think like an Italian and even the Italian words you know, sound funny when you use them. To prove her wrong I have put together the following test.

Driving

I know I could pass for an Italian when it comes to driving and parking. Driving on the wrong side of the road comes completely natural to me. In fact I have even managed to drive around the roundabout the wrong way; I would have got away with the mistake had Mrs S not been in the car at the time and decided to have a screaming fit. She made me do a three-point turn on the roundabout and go the correct way. The roundabout mistake has faded from my memory, Mrs S on the other hand still has the occasional nightmare.

I can also abandon park a car just as competently as any Italian, I no longer feel any guilt if I park a car on a zebra crossing, pavement or block some poor souls exit.

Pecora’s rating 10

Photo taken yesterday by yours truly. As you can see I was parked on the other side of the pedestrian crossing, and you can see in my mirror a car park that is half empty

Fashion

Only an Italian can turn up to a business meeting wearing, a pair of jeans, sunglasses, and a jacket with a scarf wrapped around his neck and of course a man bag slung across his shoulder. The Germans and the English will wear business suits; however the Italian will always look smarter. I asked Mrs S how the Italians manage to look so smart in jeans. She said “the jeans they are wearing probably cost more than your suit, shirt, tie and shoes put together.” Boh!

I love my flip-flops, from April till October I keep a spare pair in the car, so that I can put them on after Mrs Sensible has checked that I am leaving the house suitable dressed, so I score very badly.

Pecora’s rating -5

It’s a man bag so he must be Italian NB: This is not me on holiday Credit: Baroquesicily.com

Helping in the home

I would like to get a -10 rating for helping in the home, unfortunately Mrs S is very English in this respect and I am expected to help out in the house. Italians however, are trained from an early age that mamma will fetch, clean and carry for them. When I pick up Mrs S from her school, I am always amazed to watch children run down the street while their mamma or nonna struggle behind, carrying heavy school bags and possibly even the bicycle they brought with them in case young Mario wanted to cycle home.

To put this in perspective, on a visit to Sicily I went into the kitchen to help Mrs S wash the dishes. All of a sudden a huge argument erupted in the lounge, I asked Mrs Sensible what all the fuss was about, with a smile on her face she said “I will tell you later, just keep drying the plates” I later found out that my brother in-laws were getting shouted at by their respective Sicilian wives, because they don’t do anything in their houses. Much to the delight of Mrs S

Wiki help file on how to get your husband to help around the house LINK

Pecora’s rating a dismal minus 10

Cards

I have “grande culo*” when it comes to playing scopa, scopone or even briscola*. I win, not because I am skilful but because I am lucky. Mrs Sensible is good at playing scopa, but to make sure we stay married and that I am allowed to sleep in the bed and not on the sofa, we rarely play against each other.

Marco, who is a cousin and a great scopone player, was having a game with friends. When Mrs S and I arrived, he asked me if I wanted a game and if I knew how to play. I replied that I knew the rules but he might have to help me. Ok, I will partner with the Englishman and give him some help, he told his friends.

We wiped the floor with them, is was so funny. What Marco’s friends didn’t know was I had been taught by Sicilian experts and had played countless games with Marco.

* Grande culo literally translates to big arse, but it is used to describe somebody who is very lucky.

* If you go over to http://www.siciliangodmother.com you can buy a brilliant book all about Sicilian games of cards Link

Pecora’s rating 10+

Communicating

Ok, I am ashamed to say I rate poorly here, I have mastered the waving of the hands, I know enough Italian to buy wine and other alcoholic drinks and that is about it. I do know quite a few Italian swear words for when I am driving. Honestly it is not because I am pigro*, it is because the gene that controls language development was never turned on.

* pigro. Italian for lazy, I know this word because I have heard Mrs S use it.

Pecora’s rating -10

I communicate with mime The great Marcel Marceau credit: Telegraph news

Drinking

I thought I would score high here, but Italians don’t really drink much. They like their wine and a cool beer but in moderation* I on the other hand, love grappa, white wine, red wine, beer, limoncello, masala. In fact I like any drink that contains alcoholic, although I do draw the line at methylated spirits and rubbing alcohol . I also score low because I will drink a cappuccino after midday, which is a complete no no in Italy

* moderation. I had to google this word.

Pecora’s rating 6

Grappa from pralapa.com

Queuing

Just before the winter, Mrs Sensible and I were stuck in a queue at the local supermarket. There were about eight shoppers in front of us. Fortunately I spotted a shop assistant getting ready to open the till next to ours, so I grabbed Mrs Sensible by the arm and dragged her over to the now open till. This is normal practice in Italy, you need to be fast on your feet and be able to make strategic use of your shopping trolley to inhibit other shoppers. There is none of this, excuse me I think they are opening a new till and you are before me…. oh no, we just run.

As we reached the till, I heard in perfect English “darling, they were behind us and now they are in front of us!!!” I was amazed, an English couple in our village during the winter!!! and just when I decide to behave like an Italian!! Mrs S was not impressed with me. I spent the next 10 minutes apologising to the English shoppers who were obviously lost and to Mrs S for my behaviour.

Pecora’s rating a cool 10+ (minus 8 for getting caught)

Italian shopping trolley

I hope this guide to living as a true Italian has been helpful to you, and I hope you score higher than I did.

* The brilliant photo of the hunk in the pink budgie smugglers and orange man bag was taken by Jann Huizenga from www.baroquesicily.com please visit the site for some excellent photos of Sicily

Thanks to the COSI group for suggesting the post title and if you go to the COSI page you can catch up on their posts or follow the links

So here are the rest of the posts from the alliance of expat in Italy bloggers:

1. from our fabulous COSÌ group:
  - By Married to Italy – The fear of the fake
  - By Rick of Rick’s Rome: “The Authentic Italian Culture Debate”
  - By Andrea of Sex, Lies and Nutella: “How to be an authentic Italian (in 9 simple steps)”
  - By Georgette of Girl in Florence: “Real or Fake? Shop Smart in Italy”
  - By Gina of The Florence Diaries: http://wp.me/p1BZQR-ih
  - (more links coming soon)
  from our new friends at Italy Blogger Roundtable:
  - Jessica – Where is this “authentic Italy” everyone’s looking for?
  - Gloria – The odd woman out’s view on “authentic Italy”
  - Rebecca – Italy Roundtable: Finocchi Rifatti al Pomodoro
  - Alexandra – Art and Travel: the authenticity of seeing art in person
  - Melanie – Everything is Authentic
  - Kate – On being authenticated
  - Michelle – Living Authentically: How Italy Forced the Issue

Special Offer Fish 48p a Kilo!!!

Posted on March 5, 2015 by Pecora Nera • Posted in Uncategorized • Tagged cheap fish meal, englishman in italy, fish head pasta, Mrs Sensible, Pecora Nera • 39 Comments

Last week Mrs Sensible and I were doing the weekly shop. We are very organised when it comes to shopping, I add all the necessary groceries for our well being, for example biscuits, chocolates and beer and Mrs Sensible adds mundane things like toilet rolls, food and at the same time removes some of the items I have added.

As we walked down the aisle (I tried to hide some biscuits under the toilet rolls) Mrs S asked me if I preferred meat or fish for dinner. Obviously I suggested meat, fish never seems appealing to me as they lay on the counter staring at me with glassy eyes. We bought some meat to keep me happy and then we headed to the dreaded fish counter.

Mrs Sensible spotted some fish on special offer it was priced at 66 cents a kilo or in real money £0.48 a kilo !!!!!! To me it looked like a fish head and some scraps, Mrs S said it will be perfect for our ~~manky~~ cats. I relaxed a little and went back in search of more useful things like wine.

For the cats

On Fridays Mrs Sensible and I both finish work at midday, I phoned Mrs S and asked her if I could prepare a quick lunch for us…..

Mrs S: Sure make a quick sauce and use the fish that is in the fridge, make it the way you make a tuna pasta but use the fish.

Me: Fish? Which Fish?

Mrs S: We bought it yesterday.

Me: The fish we bought for the manky cats?

Mrs S: See how much fish is on the bone, there will be enough for a pasta dish.

Me: (less than enthusiastically) uhhuh

Me: Do I take it off the bone before it goes in the sauce?

Mrs S Pecora! you need to steam the fish and then take it off the bone, look I am on the way home just chop some onions.

Me: Ok, chop onions, I can do that 🙂

I can chop onions

So I chopped the onions and put the fish in the steamer. There is a knack to frying onions, the heat has to be just right or the onions go crispy and burn. If you check the photo you can see there are only a few black and crispy onions.

Only a few crispy ones

Having managed 2 tasks I decided it was time to phone Mrs S and ask for further instructions.

Me: Hi honey, the garlic and onions are done the fish looks a nice white colour so I think it is ready, what next?

Huburt the fish in the steamer

Mrs S Fetch the radicchio from the fridge and chop it into little pieces, then quickly fry it with the onions.

Me: Radicchio?

Mrs S: (with only a noticeable sigh) it looks like red cabbage. Use a large one because I have invited Paula to lunch.

Me: You have invited Paula!!! I am cooking Fish Head Pasta and you invite friends!!!!

Mrs S: (slightly more noticeable sigh) PN I will be home soon….

It was at this point that I decided that Fish Head Pasta needed an additional ingredient. So I went off in search of a cork screw and a bottle of wine.

Red stuff chopped and wine within reach

The wine relaxed me a little and I proceeded to chop the ~~red cabbage~~ radicchio and throw it in the pan. Just as I opened the lid of the steamer to check on Hubert the fish, Mrs S arrived and I was suddenly reduced from the rank of Head Chef all the way down to Minion.

I may be a minion, but I can cook fish head pasta

Mrs S (all at the same time) de-boned the fish, boiled some pasta, added the fish to the onions (that I had cooked) and found some plates to serve the meal on. meanwhile I set the table and drank another glass of wine.

capers

Fish Head Pasta on a plate, what does it taste like? Delicious. We produced 3 meals for less than €2.50 The wine that I was slowly quaffing cost me €12.50 but it was worth every penny.

Fish Head Pasta

Mrs Sensible, Peggy Sue and Billy Brown

Posted on February 5, 2015 by Pecora Nera • Posted in Uncategorized • Tagged English man in Italy, learning Italian, Mrs Sensible, Pecora Nera, Peggy Sue • 49 Comments

My singing has the ability to make Mrs Sensible weep; she becomes very emotional as I attempt to sing in tune, my spectacular warbling ability and the way I drift from one note to another has often left her in tears of anguish.

This morning I awoke to a glorious sunny day rainy overcast day, as I stepped into the shower, the hit song Peggy Sue by Buddy Holly just floated into my mind and I started to sing, not just sing but with amazing gusto.

Peggy Sue image Wiki

Meanwhile Mrs S was in the bathroom on the top floor probably crying into her face cloth and trying to drown out my singing. I don’t know if you remember Peggy Sue, but the lyrics go something like this.

♪, ♫ Peggy Sue Peggy Sue, Peggy Peggy Peggy Peggy Peggy Sue ♪, ♫

Oooh hooo Peggy, ♪, ♫ my Peggy Sue ooo hoo hoo ooooo.♪, ♫

This above is repeated as many times as you like, however it is advisable to stop when Mrs S starts to brandish her wet wooden spoon.

Let’s quickly back track to ten years ago, when Mrs Sensible took me to her church in Sicily. While I was finding a parking space for her car, she had found a space in the front pew with her friends, as she told them her news from England, I was left to find a place to sit by myself further back in the church. Part way through the service the congregation stood to sing a hymn, I naturally stood with them and as they started to sing I hummed along with them. It was at this point that a kind gentleman, who was stood behind me, passed me his Italian hymn book.

I have been known to empty churches with my singing

Now please try to picture the scene, I am completely tone-deaf and at that point in my life, my Italian language skills had reached the dizzying heights of Si, Non, Grazie and Ciao. But in for a penny in for a pound, I sang with Gusto. I felt completely uplifted and at one with the rest of the congregation. It was only when three young girls who were sitting in the pew in front, turned around with looks of complete astonishment and amusement that I realised that I had completely murdered the hymn. However I gamely sang on, swapping to the English version of the hymn when I knew I had no chance at pronouncing the words in the Hymn book. It is a lucky thing that forgiveness plays a large part of the Christian faith.

I knew from the look of shock, that my singing needed a little improvement.

Back to this morning, as I drove Mrs S to work, once again the song Peggy Sue entered my mind and there is nothing more satisfying than driving down winding Italian country roads, singing your favourite song with the love of your life sat next to you, even if she does have her fingers in her ears.

Mrs Sensible told me, that while she was in the bathroom, my singing had reminded her of another song, but by the Beatles, alas she couldn’t remember how the song went. I immediately burst into an impromptu melody of Beatles songs and even added a verse or two from Oh Billy Brown by Mika. None of this helped to stir Mrs Sensible’s memory.

After dropping Mrs Sensible at her school where she is teaching her chilblains English and how not to pick their noses while in her class, I drove off to my office situated at the Bar in Fubine, After I booted my laptop I quickly googled Peggy and Beatles, amazingly Paul Mc Cartney did a cover version of Peggy Sue. This surely must be the song Mrs S was thinking about. As I drink my cappuccino I can only wonder why my cover version of Peggy Sue didn’t jog her memory.

If you too can’t hold a tune, this link may help you

On the 13^th of this month I will upload a valentines post, Entitled Mrs Sensible and the Pizza oven, this is part of the joint blogging posts with the C.O.S.I group and if I get time I will also upload the latest installment on the Telecom Italia fiasco.

Don’t hold your breath but…………

Posted on December 9, 2014 by Pecora Nera • Posted in Uncategorized • Tagged an englishman in italy, internet in Italy, Italian customer service, Mrs Sensible, Pecora Nera, Telecom Italia • 59 Comments

Mrs Sensible is full of very sensible advice, this advice normally goes in my right ear and exits out my left ear and unfortunately doesn’t spend much time in the space in-between my ears.

Mrs Sensible’s advice normally has a huge impact on my behavior

Occasionally I am reminded of her wonderful advice, times like when I entered the house with an armful of logs for the fire wearing my flip flops, skidded across the floor, slid just past the steps to the cellar and ended up in an untidy heap, I am sure I could hear her say “put some shoes on when it is wet, don’t go out in your flip flops. But today I followed her advice and managed to surprise even myself! On Friday morning, I was enjoying a scalding hot shower and as the steam slowly but surely filled the room, I could hear a voice somewhere in-between my ears say “please open the window when you shower or we will have mould” I decided to open the window, not because of the mould but because I couldn’t see where the soap, the towel or even the old naked man, whose reflection normally makes me think of restarting my diet, so I opened the window and as the steam rushed outside who should I see but Mr Telecom Italia in his little red van, stopped just outside our gate. Dun dun duuunnn!

Proof that we have a telephone.

His paperwork obviously said number 2 not number 13 as stamped on the side of our house; (the address issue is too complicated to relate here so go read this). Mr technical Telecom man was looking at his piece of paper and at the number on our house, which didn’t match. I was desperately trying to find a towel in my mini steam room and shout to Mrs S to run outside and grab him before he drove away.

Number 13 unlucky for ~~some~~ everybody

We have waited 3 months for the technician to arrive at our house and evaluate if we can have fast internet access. After establishing that our house existed, he asked if our telephone worked, we said yes “good good good” he said you will have your connection in 20 days.

The highs and lows of dealing with Telecom Italia

Of course this is 20 Italian days which in reality will means another 2 to 3 months, if we are lucky.

November is Birthday Month

Posted on December 1, 2014 by Pecora Nera • Posted in home • Tagged bagna cauldo, C.O.S.I, donkey, Mrs Sensible, Pecora Nera, piedmontese food • 54 Comments

In November, I was supposed to write a foodie post for the C.O.S.I group; unfortunately I have been much too busy celebrating my birthday. I am not sure how I manage to get away with it, but much to Mrs Sensibles dismay, I manage to squeeze 2 or 3 birthday parties into the month and a couple of celebrationary meals with friends.

So to keep everybody happy, I will start with a brief foodie post on traditional Piedmontese food.

Bagna Cauda

November is cold and wet in Piedmonte, so to stay warm and cosy your average Piedmontese sits down to a bowl of Bagna Cauda.

Bagna Caulda; a sauce made from garlic, anchovies, more garlic a bit of olive oil and more anchovies.

Bagna Caulda is a hot dip, made from anchovies, lots of garlic and olive oil. It is served with a selection of raw vegetables, peppers, potatoes, carrots etc. The object of the meal is to dip the raw vegetables into your sauce and cook them. The conversation around the table normally goes something like this.

P N: So I dip the potato in here?

Mrs Sensible: yes but be careful the sauce is hot.

PN: Is the potato supposed to stay crunchy?

Mrs S: Tsk! leave it a bit longer.

PN: Can you pass the red wine down this way.

PN: Oww!!!

Miss Sensible: I told you it was hot!!

PN: Quick more wine.

An added bonus of enjoying the delicious dish of bagna caulda, is you never have to explain to your friends or colleagues what you had for tea the night before…. they will smell the aroma of anchovies and garlic as you walk across the carpark.

OK back to my birthday.

One of my birthday dinners was an impromptu meal with some friends, as usual we started with the swapping of the presents and the opening of a couple of bottles of wine. We then moved onto a fine selection of cheeses and salami.

Our hosts trying to open the bottle of wine I brought. (amazing what fun you can have with a bit of superglue)

Mrs S asked me if I would like a little more salami; of course I nodded and said I prefer the darker salami. She promptly added 3 more slices of meat and added “mmm the asino is tasty”

Some of you will know what asino is, for the rest of you let me enlighten you.

Asino is another Piedmontese delicacy.

Sagra d’ donkey !!

We have sagra’s dedicated to the humble donkey, it is available as meatballs, agnolotti and of course salami. It has taken me 7 years to remove the image of the Blackpool Donkey from my mind when a slice of asino is added to my plate.

Blackpool donkeys, I don’t think I know these young ladies

For many years I refused to eat Asino, occasionally I would unknowingly eat it, only realising after I was asked “did you enjoy the meat”

To finish with

1) If you want to search for Bagna Caulda on the internet, please spell it correctly, my first attempt was bagno caldo and google provided lots of pictures of women in the bath

2) Where are all my presents and birthday cards?

3) If you are a donkey, Italy is probably not a good holiday destination.

Fancy a holiday in Italy?

Normal food posts by the C.O.S.I group

“Arm yourselves against Emilia’s arsenal of food.” – Married to Italy

“Nobody Leaves The Table Until They’ve Eaten So Much That They Hate Themselves”–Observations on Eating in Italy – The Florence Diaries
Operation: Italian Thanksgiving – “La Festa della Gallina” – Sex, Lies, and Nutella
How (not) to Spend Thanksgiving in Florence – Girl in Florence
Foraging, Toxoplasmosis, And Eating Until You Die In Cassino, Italy — Surviving in Italy

Telecom Italia uffa!

Posted on November 10, 2014 by Pecora Nera • Posted in home • Tagged englishman in italy, internet access in Italy, Italian customer service, Pecora Nera, Telecom Italia • 51 Comments

Boh! I give up

A pole and a phone

Posted on October 22, 2014 by Pecora Nera • Posted in home, Uncategorized • Tagged an englishman in italy, fun expats, humour, Italian customer service, living in italy, Mrs Sensible, Pecora Nera, piemonte, Telecom Italia, telephone contracts in italy, wine • 64 Comments

Somewhere in Italy there is a boat minus it’s mast. I know this for a fact, because there is a boat’s mast stuck in my garden. I was going to get a shovel and dig the mast out, but knowing my luck the rest of the boat is probably still attached to the mast. Over the past three months I have thought of several uses for our yachts mast (did you notice it now belonged to a yacht) I thought it might be useful for drying towels or maybe Mr’s Sensible’s knickers. (I might edit that bit out later, it will depend, if I can hide her wet wooden spoon)

No these aren’t our scabby cats nor are they Mrs Sensible’s knickers

As you know, Telecom Italia are driving me nuts, we still don’t have any internet connection and to be honest, by the time Telecom Italia arrange for their technical man to test our line, I will probably be retired and sat in an old people’s home drinking grappa and causing lots and lots of trouble for the nurses.

If they are armed with wet wooden spoons and needles, I might behave

If they are armed with a wet wooden spoons and needles, I might behave

At the moment the only way I can connect to the internet, is to sit in a café, drink copious quantities of coffee (in the morning) or lots of wine (in the afternoon) and use the cafés internet. Being an Englishman, as soon as the waitress removes my empty cup, I feel obliged to order another coffee, especially as I am taking up a table and using their internet.

Last week, I tried to vary the boredom of drinking cups of cappuccino by started with a caffé macchiato, I then moved onto a café marocchino, washed that down with a caffé doppio and just for good measure, I finished of the morning with a rather nice caffè corretto ( I then Jitterbugged to the Turkish toilet with big wide starring eyes. I suppose it is no wonder they think their resident Englishman is a bit mad.

Pecora Nera colides with the waitress as he jitterbugs to the loo

If I am at home and I want to use the internet, I create a hotspot on my little crappy Huawei phone, I place the phone on a chair in the garden, run back upstairs to my office and hope and pray it picks up a good enough signal so that I can quickly download my e mails. This drives me almost as crazy as jitterbugging around the café.

Yesterday I had an eureka moment; I knew there was a reason I hadn’t chopped down my flagpole. I suddenly realised it would make a fabulous internet mast. One plastic bag and a bit of string later, my mobile phone was hoisted 5 metres into the air and miracles of miracles, I had 3G, well maybe 1.5G but it did work and I managed to upload this post.

I told Mrs Sensible not to turn my flag into a cushion.

So if you decided to contact me, please, please, please use my contact form and don’t phone me, it is a nightmare when the phone rings. I have to run downstairs, play the last call on the bugle and lower the flag and all this takes time.

PS If you work for Telecom Italia or you know somebody who works for them, please tell them Pecora Nera is one of their dissatisfied customers.

How to find work in Italy or a warning to other foolhardy immigrants.

Posted on October 13, 2014 by Pecora Nera • Posted in Uncategorized • Tagged Berlitz, finding a job in Italy, fun expats, job in italy, looking for work in Italy, Mrs Sensible, Pecora Nera, work in italy, working in italy • 59 Comments

Whilst I was living in the UK I begged and pleaded suggested to Mrs Sensible that we should consider living in Italy. I explained my grand plan which included, drinking copious quantities of Italian wine and sunbathing learning Italian and opening a bed and breakfast.

My dream was an Italian Bed and Breakfast.

We didn’t manage to open a bed and breakfast, unfortunately the bottom dropped out of the UK housing market whilst I was repainting the kitchen wall and it soon became apparent that after selling our house, we would receive about £5.00 and a burst balloon and Italians don’t accept burst balloons as down payments on houses. Following this unfortunate news we didn’t scrap my fantastic grand plan our plans. First, Mrs S had found a teaching job in Italy and was living with some nuns in a nunnery and second; I am an optimist. I knew I would find a job. (If Mrs Sensible is reading this, she will now be gnashing her teeth and pulling her hair out) So here is my Italian CV or how I found work in Italy. Horticultural Executive One morning a market for flowers and hand-made objects was set up near our little house, Mrs S and I decided to have a little look. One of the stalls The English Cottage Garden was run by two women, their stall was selling typical plants found in a UK garden. I managed to impress them with my horticultural knowledge by exclaiming, “That’s a nice white rose and my mum has one of those purple flowers in her garden.” I was instantly offered the position of Chief Hole Digger and Lawnmower Operative.

I became quite proficient at digging holes

I worked 5 hours a day digging holes mowing the lawn and removing weeds from the garden. I understood weeds were anything green that didn’t have a flower at the top. One day Stephania decided we would prune the roses, Adriana and I were summoned to help. Stephania would spend 5 minutes looking at a branch and eventually she would clip a piece, this was then handed to Adriana who looked at it and then passed the piece of rose cutting to me, my job was to place it in the wheelbarrow. Assistant Building Contractor Our landlord was a builder and one evening he was complaining that he had to replace a leaking water-pipe and his assistant was ill. Bravely and without a second thought I offered my services. Mrs S told him that I knew one end of a screwdriver from the other and I was duly appointed, Executive Sweeper Upper. I spent 3 weeks removing old concrete, mixing new concrete, carrying concrete and complaining to Mrs S that I may never ever be able to stand up straight again.

Builders Bum an English tradition

Landscape Gardener At another gardening market, I was stood watching a karate exhibition. As one poor guy was kicked and dropped to the floor I muttered, ouch! A man called Georgio who was stood next to me, said “you English?” Georgio and I then spent 10 minutes chatting to one another, Georgio using his poor English and me with my appalling Italian. We occasionally winced as the poor guys kicked and punch each other to death.

we are training our cats in Karate

I asked Giorgio if he was considering joining the karate club, he told me he didn’t have the time, at the moment he had too much work on. I immediately offered my services, after all, I now knew how to drop rose cuttings into a wheel barrow. Amazingly I was offered the part time job of Exterior Carpet Fitter Temporary Garden Lawn Layer.

Following his course on turf laying, Pecora Nera no longer needed to wash Mrs Sensible’s car.

I discovered laying a garden lawn is very similar to laying a carpet in a house, the main difference in laying a lawn, is there are no door frames or fireplaces to cut around, plus if you make a mistake when you cut a piece of turf, you just cut a small piece to fill in the hole you made and stamp on it. Despite helping Georgio lay several lawns and other gardening duties, we are still the best of friends and my knees have recovered. English Teacher In my quest to live in Sicily, I applied for a job as an English teacher with the Berlitz Language School in Catania. I relocated to Zia Ester’s apartment in Sicily and left Mrs S in Piedmonte. Having used but not necessarily studied English, I easily passed the interview and was appointed Commercial and Business English Tutor. Berlitz told me they would e mail me some training literature and a start date. That was 5 years ago and I am still waiting for the training literature and my start date, so Berlitz please pull your finger out.

5 years and still waiting, but this is Italy so there is still some hope!

Private English Tutor Mrs Sensible told me that a local business man needed some English lessons and she had organised for me to meet the man in a local café. After plying him with lots of bottles of beer (I haven’t yet found an Italian that can drink an Englishman under the table) he offered me a job as an Industrial Pump Salesman. I know it is not the job I was after and I knew less about industrial pumps than I did about weeding gardens or teaching English. For three years I sold Industrial pumps for the man. Our friendship and my services ceased when he decided to alter how he paid me, basically my wages just didn’t arrive and if you read this you little git, send me my money or I will spill the beans about the English pub, the transsexual and a very drunk Italian.

She knew she was a he, I knew she was a he, the question is.. did my drunken friend know she was a he!!

She knew she was a he, I knew she was a he, the question is.. did my drunken Italian friend know she was a he!!

Private English Tutor I decided to advertise as a private English tutor and within a fortnight, I managed to secure a group of eleven friends who wanted to practise English conversation. I also found an engineer who was relocating to France (please don’t ask me why he wanted English and not French) and a local manager who needed English for work. During a lesson with the eleven friends, I suggested we should have an English lesson based around something I love. They agreed so I organised a combined English lesson and wine tasting, it was so much fun we now open a bottle of wine at the start of every lesson.

The incredible Thursday Group at our English murder mystery night.

English Crisps Because Mrs Sensible was only on a yearly contract with the schools, she didn’t receive any salary during the long summer holidays and my teaching money was just not enough for us to survive on. So we decided to look for a smaller house to rent. A friend of ours offered us an apartment that was attached to his house. While we were explaining why we needed a smaller house, he suggested we could work together and find products we both could sell, we looked at importing crisps into Italy and contacting my old pump customers to see if we could supply them with a new range of pumps. And that is how Tough Guy Europe was born, it is early days and the Italian bureaucracy is crazy but we have some good customers and another 2 pallets of pumps on the way. And in the immortally words of Del Boy said “this time next year we will be millionaires” So here are a couple of thoughts for anyone who wants to find a job in Italy.

In my experience jobs are given to friends and family.
If you are here and looking for a job, tell everyone, even strangers that you need work.
I have registered with Manpower and four or five other agencies, in my opinion it was a waste of time.
Berlitz is a waste of time.
I have registered with online job agencies and I still receive their spam mail.
If you are not fluent in the language of your chosen country you will struggle.
Without the support of Mrs Sensible I would be starving or back living in the UK.

C.O:S:I are a group of friends from different parts of Italy, once a month we pick a subject to blog about, if you go to my C.O:S:I link and then read their blogs, they will no doubt have some useful information on how to find a job in Italy.

A brief lesson on how to tell the time in Italy

Posted on October 8, 2014 by Pecora Nera • Posted in home, Language • Tagged an englishman in italy, fun expats, humour, italy, languages, learning Italian, Pecora Nera, telling the time in Italy • 16 Comments

A little video to explain how Italian locals tell the time.

Toxic Plastic Legs Syndrome.

Posted on September 29, 2014 by Pecora Nera • Posted in Uncategorized • Tagged an englishman in italy, cats, humour, kittens, Mrs Sensible, Pecora Nera, Toxoplasmosis • 42 Comments

I have just found out our cuddly cats may be carriers of Toxic Plastic Legs Syndrome a link to the disease is here. This dreadful disease is very common in cats and may be dangerous if transmitted to a pregnant woman!!! Fortunately neither Mrs Sensible nor I are pregnant, well I hope not anyway.

Toxic Plastic Leg Syndrome

Last night Mrs Sensible aided and impeded by yours truly, attempted to force the cats to eat a selection of tablets to cure Toxic Plastic Legs Syndrome, beri beri and the shits. The operation did not go well. As I tried to entice Mish Mash to eat his horse sized pills, I was amazed at how many legs a cat has, each tipped with a lot of sharp little claws, plus some pretty sharp teeth. In fact, I still have the scratch marks to prove how much the cats enjoyed the game and I will go to the hospital tomorrow for a little bit of first aid and a tetanus shot.

Mish Mash after I had tried to force feed him.

After I nearly lost the end of my index finger on my right hand, Mrs S shouted “I told you to crush the tablets and mix it with their food”

Boh!!

Our cats are now de-bugged, de-wormed and no longer suffer from diarrhea. The cats are now ready for their next home. Which could be your home!!!!! Just complete the contact form and I will send you a cat via Fedex

Mr Hairy will be the first to go, because he is so handsome and cute, if he was an Italian man he would strut around wearing an Armani suit complete with a man bag and generally wow the women.

Mr Hairy the good looking cat.

Mrs S and I are still negotiating which cat/s we will keep here. Last week it was all five, that is until they managed to spread their number 2’s from one side of their room to the other. For an explanation of what a number 2 is go read this earlier post.

If Mr Hairy was a man, he would look like this

Ruth, formally called the Runt, will stay because although she is pretty ugly, she is the brightest and will cause us the least trouble and either Mish Mash, my choice because she is as mad as a hatter and chases anything that moves and has an amazing ability to climb up a trouser leg using only her claws. Mrs Sensible wants to keep Ginger, because she likes him. Aren’t women sentimental.

The Runt sometimes called Ruth or Butt-Ugly

We have found a woman, whose soul aim in life is to re house kittens and stray cats. She came here and inspected our cats, provided us with some valuable advice and cans of cat food, plus the miraculous horse tablets. She has officially been added to my Christmas card list.

Telecom Italia, you have just got to…..

Posted on September 19, 2014 by Pecora Nera • Posted in home • Tagged an englishman in italy, fun expats, humour, Mrs Sensible, Pecora Nera, piemonte, Telecom Italia • 38 Comments

Telecom Italia you have just got to ~~love them~~ hate them.

Boh!

Yesterday I once again pestered Mrs Sensible to phone Telecom Italia. I waited until she was sat down and drinking her cup of tea before I started.

She had a another really interesting conversation with Telecom Italia about our unusual postal address (They agree with my version of our address, so I am starting to like them). They did ask Mrs S which of the two address they now have for our telephone line, we live at… 🙂 🙂 🙂

The latest update is they will test our line to see if I can have broadband, this will take place between now and the end of the month. It takes so long because they have a ‘specialist line tester’ !!!!

Telecom Italia or 2 cans and a bit of string.

Posted on September 16, 2014 by Pecora Nera • Posted in home, Work • Tagged an englishman in italy, fun expats, humour, Italian customer service, living in italy, Mrs Sensible, Pecora Nera, Telecom Italia, working in italy • 48 Comments

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

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.

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

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 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)

Killer cats

Posted on September 15, 2014 by Pecora Nera • Posted in Uncategorized • Tagged Italian cats, Mrs Sensible, Pecora Nera • 72 Comments

We have been invaded by a pride of killer cats.

Killer Cats

I spotted the pride of killer cats living under my garage. After the fun and games we had with Scooby Doo I made a vow never to have another manky, scabby cat living with us. Unfortunately Mrs Sensible also spotted the cats and I was ordered to catch one to take up the position of resident mouse and lizard catcher.

So armed with a bowl and some food I went of on the dangerous mission of cat catcher.

Danger!!! Cats in the wild

I successfully caught the stupid hairy cat, and took him to Mrs S who said he was nice but she really wanted the little ginger cat, so I went back to try and catch him or her (who knows if they are male or female).

How to catch a cat, a bowl of food and some thick gloves

We now had 2 cats, the big furry cat and a very, very timid ginger cat. Mrs Sensible’s timid cat sat in the corner shook, meowed and totally ignored the milk and sardines that Mrs S had prepared, the hairy cat, on the other hand was scoffing the lot.

Quick build apartments.

I thought Mrs S would be disappointed with her scabby ginger cat, so I went in search of a more lovable cat for her.

Feeding time in the tiger enclosure

When I went back to the garage the other cats were meowing and going nuts… So I took them all, I thought Mrs S could choose the cat she wanted and I would return the others.

48 hours later we still have all 5 cats. 4 of the cats have learnt how to go to the litter tray, scratch around and pee or do a number 2. My hairy cat has also learnt to go to the litter tray and scratch around, he them walks of the litter tray and pees on the floor, I guess it was to be expected.

Checking if the washing is finished

So we now have 5 kittens.

Mr Hairy (my cat)

Ginger (Mrs Sensible’s cat)

And three cats that are free to a good or bad home

Houdini, Mish Mash and Runt

Pecora Nera and Mrs Sensible now live at different addresses

Posted on September 15, 2014 by Pecora Nera • Posted in home • Tagged an englishman in italy, Mrs Sensible, Pecora Nera, post services in Italy, Poste Italia • 38 Comments

We have now been living in our new house for just over 2 months, Mrs Sensible still can’t find many of the things that I packed! After a talking to by Mrs S, I have promised myself that I will be a good boy and be a little more organised, so I trotted of to the bank and gave them our new address, Mrs Sensible went to the gas and electric companies and did the same.

Poste Italian surprised us by finding the house and delivered 2 Electric Bills and a birthday present for Mrs Sensible all the way from England.

Poste Italia, as organised as anything can be in Italia

Poste Italia, as efficient as anything can be in Italia!

A week ago Mrs Sensible visited the local council offices to formally tell them, they now have a Black Sheep resident in their little village. When she returned home, she had a little surprise for me, the address we have given everybody is wrong, not wrong as in slightly wrong but wrong as in a completely different address. I suppose that is why Poste Italia managed to deliver our mail.

Our village now has a black sheep living there.

Our house has a number 13 nailed to the wall, and I believe the road name is Old Mill (translated) The council claim our house should have the number 2 nailed to the wall and the road is called Green Leaves (again translated). Mrs Sensible with her infinite wisdom is following the council’s advice and filling out all her official forms using the address 2 Green Leaves. I on the other hand prefer to use the address 13 Old Mill, not because I am a black sheep, but because Poste Italia thinks that is where I live.

The woman at our post office does not look like this

To date no letters have arrived for Mrs Sensible at 2 Green Leaves, so either nobody is writing to her or……. She might be wrong!!!!!

Mrs Sensible was last proved wrong….

It won’t be the first time she has been proved to be wrong, but I think Halley’s Comet was passing close by the last time I proved it.

The thighs have it.

Posted on August 31, 2014 by Pecora Nera • Posted in home • Tagged Bidet, englishman in italy, Italian toilet, living in italy, Loo, Moving to Italy, Pecora Nera, Turkish toilets • 79 Comments

You are no doubt asking yourself what Tatiana Kashirina the Olympic weightlifting has to do with Italy, well let me tell you, it’s her thighs. Now before you all start jumping up and down and sending messages to Mrs Sensible about her errant husband, let me explain.

Tatiana Kashirina

Before I moved to here, I thought living in Italy would be very similar to living in Great Britain, just without the rain and a decent bacon sandwich, but I was in for a huge culture shock. To start with they don’t go to the bathroom the same way we do. I promise you it is true, so stop giggling. In England we sit on the loo, ponder life for a bit, clean up using a bit of Andrex toilet paper and then as our mothers taught us, we wash our hands. Nice and simple, in Italy nothing is simple, including going to the loo.

Andrex Puppy and loo roll

To start with we have an additional piece of pottery in our bathrooms, it is called a BIDET, it is like a toilet but it has taps on it and no it is not for washing your feet ….. its for washing your , well your bits in. You see the Italians have decided cleaning your bum after a number 2 with toilet paper, even using expensive soft stuff like Andrex is not good enough (number 1 is a wee and number 2 is, well a number 2), so all good Italians use a bidet to wash their bits after a number 2 or even a number 1.

A bidet is not for washing your feet in. www.emiliehope.wordpress.com

When Mrs Sensible lived in the UK she was astonished and horrified to learn that most homes didn’t have a bidet fitted and the people who did have a bidet fitted, used it for anything but washing their bums. I am not going to go into how to use a bidet, there is a useful link here for those of you who are interested, but I will add just one word of warning, make sure you get the temperature of the water just right or it will bring tears to your eyes.

Our UK house didn’t have a Bidet so Mrs Sensible had to improvise.

Before you ask, Tatiana Kashirina has absolutely nothing to do with Bidets. But she has everything to do with the Italians fascination with Turkish toilets. A Turkish toilet is as close in design to an English toilet as a pizza is, to a big juicy bacon sandwich with egg, mushrooms and if you are lucky a dollop of tomatoes thrown on. A Turkish toilet is a toilet without any super structure, it how a minalist would design a toilet if he was asked. Basically it is a hole that you squat over and this is where Tatiana Kashirina thighs come into play, because if you don’t have well developed thighs you are likely to collapse and fall down the hole.

A Turkish Toilet

While I was writing this I got to thinking why the Turkish toilet never caught on in the UK and you are free to disagree with me here, but I think there are two main reasons. 1) It would be impossible to read a book or the Sunday Paper whilst trying to balance over the hole and 2) The English like to go drinking in pubs in the evening and alcohol and good balance rarely go hand in hand.

I stole this from Gingerfightback so go and have a look at his site http://www.gingerfightback.com

Now before you go off in search of humorous pictures of bidets or Turkish toilets please spare a thought to how you would manage, if you needed to spend a penny* when you had your best evening frock on, or even a pair of dungarees.

If you slip whilst using a Turkish Toilet you will get wet. (Maria Grazia Cucinotta star of Il Postino)

To spend a penny is a polite English expression to say you need to go and pee.

Please go and have a look at what the other COSI group members think about the loo in Italy

‘Potty Humor‘ – Married to Italy
‘The Bidet and how to have a sparkling downtown area‘ – Surviving in Italy
‘Life Next to a Public Bathroom‘ – Girl in Florence
‘What you need to know before you go‘ — Rick’s Rome
The toilet situation in Italy — The Unwilling Expat

Does this stuff really happen!!!

Posted on August 13, 2014 by Pecora Nera • Posted in Health, home, Wine • Tagged an englishman in italy, expat, fun expats, Italia, Italian eye test, Mrs Sensible, Pecora Nera, wine • 36 Comments

I received an e mail asking me, what inspires me to write my posts and does this stuff really happen or do I just have an over active imagination. So let me take this opportunity to put the record straight. Much to Mrs Sensible’s dismay, my blog is as it happens here. Mrs Sensible wouldn’t allow me to tell lies or exaggerate. If I did she would hit me with a wet wooden spoon.

Mrs Sensible is deadly with a wet wooden spoon.

How do I decide what to write about? Well let me give you an example.

Two weeks ago my reading glasses were sitting on my face at a funny angle, so I took them off and tried to straighten them. I heard a little snap and ended up with two monocles, one for each eye. Mrs Sensible just looked at me as my glasses fell apart in my hands. “What have you done now?” she asked. Nothing I replied as I tried to hide my glasses in my pocket.

A monocle for each eye.

Breaking my glasses is not a huge problem as I also wear contact lenses. Unfortunately I lost several boxes of contact lenses when we moved house. I can find my corkscrew and my bottles of wine. We have eventually found the kettle, but my lenses are still in a box…. Probably marked Christmas decorations!!

Are they in the box marked Christmas decorations?

Like everyone else I have two eyes, my right eye does all the work and my left eye… well it is there only for decoration, it is called a lazy eye. It looks normal but it just refuses to work. When I went for my eye examination for my Italian driving licence, the doctor gave me a paddle to cover my left eye as he tested my right eye. Everything was OK, however when he asked me to cover my right eye and read the letters on the wall, I was tempted to ask him “what wall?” I managed to get around this slight difficulty by removing the paddle and having a quick look at the letters before the doctor turned around and asked me what he had just pointed at.

What do you mean, where has the wall gone?

So what inspired me to write this post? Well last week we had the COSI on-line discussion and I was sat in a bar with a glass of wine, squinting at my laptop. I couldn’t find any more contact lenses, my reading glasses are broken so my solution was to wear my normal glasses and over the top of those I put on a pair of Mrs Sensible’s reading glasses, with the double magnification and providing I partially closed my left eye I could read my laptop almost perfectly.

With my multiple sets of glasses I looked quite sexy

After a couple of glasses of wine I forgot that I was wearing two sets of glasses. When the waitress who delivered my third glass of wine, looked at me funnily I immediately checked to make sure my fly was zipped up.

The COSI webcam was a bit chaotic, but I enjoyed it. I sat there with a glass of wine in one hand, an ear phone plugged into my right ear and my finger stuck into my left ear to block out the noise of the bar, oh and two sets of glasses on. I think ‘M’ from Married to Italy sent me a message and said Pecora “ your webcam is on we can see you” I didn’t worry too much until I realised what I must look like, after all I was already getting strange looks from the people in the bar.

So do I make this stuff up? No this is life as I know it in Italy

Smelling like Auntie Hilda

Posted on August 10, 2014 by Pecora Nera • Posted in Uncategorized • Tagged Aunty Hilda, Lavender, living in italy, Mrs Sensible, Pecora Nera • 69 Comments

When Mrs Sensible and I moved to Italy (against her better judgement) we decided to rent a house. This was for three reasons. 1) We knew we would ultimately move to Sicily and we didn’t want to get caught up in the nightmare of buying and selling Italian houses. 2) We couldn’t sell our house in the UK because the Americans cocked up the financial markets, when their sub-prime mortgages crashed (please no hate mail from you nice Americans) and the 3^rd reason is, I forgot but there was a third reason, there always is a third reason in life.

There was another reason.

I should do a post on the differences between renting a house in Italy and renting a house in the UK but if you get me started on my little house in the UK, and the people who rent it I will get very angry, burst into tears and head for the grappa bottle. (See always three things)

Grappa, I love this stuff

In Italy we have tried not to acquire too much furniture, as Mrs S says, in a couple of years we will have to cart it down south so why bother. We have some really good friends up here, who have loaned Mrs S and I some nice furniture which we use to fill in empty corners, now here is the problem.

We have been given a very nice chest of draws, it is solid wood, lined with paper and smells of lavender. Not a nice fresh smell of lavender ; but more the strong, wiffy smell of lavender. You know the smell I mean, the one you smell when Auntie Hilda opens her purse to give you a sixpence. Mrs S gave the chest of draws a good clean and left all the draws open to air. Each day I give it a sniff and it still smells of old ladies handbags. In fact I am worried that the smell is permeating our bedroom. I find I am sniffing my arms to see if I have started to smell like Auntie Hilda.

Ok, I admit it, I stole this photo from Google. I was going to take a photo of our chest of draws but the smell of lavender put me off getting too close with my camera

Mrs Sensible has said I am not allowed to bleach the draws, leave them out in the rain or to put them in the cellar. Last night it did cross my mind to accidentally drop some firewood in the draws and accidentally drop a match in them. So please give me some help what can I do to get rid of the smell of Auntie Hilda?

PS. Mrs Sensible will fly home around the 27^th of August, so if you suggest any treatments that she might not approve of, send your ideas now so I can try them before she gets back

Ferragosto

Posted on August 1, 2014 by Pecora Nera • Posted in Uncategorized • Tagged an englishman in italy, englishman in italy, expat, ferragosto, fixing a boiler in Italy, humour, italian, Italians, Mrs Sensible, Pecora Nera, workaway • 53 Comments

According to my pocket Italian / English dictionary, the definition for Ferragosto is:-

Ferragosto takes place in Italy anywhere between the 1st and the 31th of August, plumbers, electricians, butchers and anybody else that you need on a day to day basis or may need in a crisis, leave town and either head to the mountains or the seaside for 1 to 31 days. It is not uncommon for towns and villages to become temporary ghost towns.

Ferragosto

Last year on the 17^th of August our boiler decided to go into meltdown. Mrs Sensible contacted our landlord and asked if she could organise a plumber. Ten minutes later, the landlady phoned back and told us the plumber was on holiday until the 28^th of August, she added is Pecora Nera any good with boilers.

Mrs S asked me if I knew anything about boilers, I said, I understood they blow up if you don’t know what you are doing and poke around inside them. Mrs S then broke the news to me that we would be taking cold showers for the rest of the month; unless I knew how to fix the boiler. So armed with a screwdriver a large hammer and wearing some overalls I went to have a look at our boiler.

Safety overalls for use when messing with boilers

I stuck one finger in one ear and holding my screwdriver at arms length I poked and played with things I really didn’t have a clue about. After 30 minutes of cursing the boiler and the plumber who was sat on some beach drinking pina colada I gave up. Mrs S phoned the landlady and said I had failed miserably and was there any other plumbers in Italy? The landlady said she would send her husband. It was at this point that I decided I needed to be somewhere else, maybe at my favorite bar which I had calculated would be outside the blast range or maybe better still on a flight to England.

My favorite bar is outside the blast range

The landlady’s husband turned up with his own screwdriver and an even bigger hammer than the one I was holding. He poked about inside the boiler, he hit delicate bits of pipe with his hammer and explained to me what he thought was wrong with the boiler. I didn’t understand a word he was saying, not only because I don’t understand Italian but by this time I was stood with fingers in both of my ears just in case the boiler decided to go boom.

When at risk of blowing up, always place your fingers in your ears

And then miraculously, the boiler hissed, farted and started working. We decided to celebrate by drinking a glass or two of grappa.

So if your boiler breaks down, or your cooker starts smoking during August drop me a line and I will send you the landlady’s husband.

The boiler expert saying hello to Donna our workaway from last year or was it the year before

I have been informed that our crazy group of expats bloggers (COSI Group), are having a Google Hangout Q&A session at 13:00 EST, 19:00 in Italy on Sunday the 3rd of August. I haven’t a clue how to do this but I will try to be there with a glass of wine in my hand.

Please go to my COSI page and follow the links to other bloggers from COSI who are uploading their thoughts on Ferragosto

COSI: Ferragosto! Pirates, Family, And Eating Until You Explode – Surviving in Italy
Ferragosto in Rome – Rick’s Rome
Ferragosto link coming soon – Girl in Florence
Ferragosto link coming soon – The Florence Diaries
Ferragosto link – Unwilling Expat
Married to Italys thoughts on Ferragosto

Press the button

Posted on July 30, 2014 by Pecora Nera • Posted in Uncategorized • Tagged americans, an englishman in italy, englishman, expat, Italia, italy, Mrs Sensible, ordering form the internet, ordering from the internet, Pecora Nera, press the button, wine, workaway • 60 Comments

It is amazing just what you can order, with the press of a button over the internet; when I need some bacon I go on line and press the button, if I require some English books I just press the button.

Close your eyes and press that button

In May I pressed the button and ordered 2 workaways from the USA to help paint my new house. They arrived on time and in good condition. Normally the first thing I do when I receive something over the internet, is I remove its protective packaging and check it for faults and damage. I particularly like stuff that arrives in bubble wrap, I can get around 10 minutes fun popping the bubbles.

Mrs Sensible said it was not necessary this time to remove the protective packaging and added that if I attempted to remove any part of their protective packaging, something might break. I think she was hinting that I might damage my fingers or even my neck. Although I couldn’t understand how this might happen, I decided to take her advice.

Workaway 1 checking the protective packaging is still in place

Workaway 1 checking that the protective packaging of workaway 2 is still in place

Throughout June our workaways wandered around our house and packed our stuff into boxes, they helped keep the house nice and clean and seemed to function incredibly well. The only thing we had to do was feed them and give them a corner to sleep in. When we transferred to the new house, we reprogrammed the workaways to unbox our belongings and set about painting the house. The reprogramming was very easy, with my Tomtom satnav I need to hook it up to my laptop, but with the workaways they had a very simple verbal interface.

Workaways 1 & 2 safely locked up for the night complete with a bottle of wine in case they became thirsty during the night. (I am not sure why Mrs Sensible insisted on her looking after the key)

Workaways One and Two safely locked up for the night complete with a bottle of wine in case they became thirsty. (I am not sure why Mrs Sensible insisted on her looking after the key)

The new house has a wine cellar, so one evening I took a drive to one of our local wine cantinas to buy some wine. I took the workaways with me to help carry the heavy boxes of wine. While we were there I let them taste a glass or two and the transformation was amazing. They really liked the wine, in fact when it was time to go they really didn’t want to leave.

Workaway 2 didn’t want to leave

I don’t like reading the instructions that come with items I order over the internet and the manual wasn’t very clear. Instruction number 2 stated: Do not mix with alcohol. Did it mean I shouldn’t drink alcohol when operating the workaways, or they shouldn’t drink the alcohol. I decided to ignore the warning; I couldn’t ask Mrs Sensible what she thought, because she had flown to Sicily to see her mother and left me in charge of our workaways. Her instructions regarding what I could and could not do with the workaways was very simple, clear and specific, it also included what might happen if I disregarded any of her advice or attempted to remove the workaways protective packaging.

Two days later I decided to see if the workaways enjoyed burnt food, so I fired up the barbeque and burnt some chicken and some sausage. Workaway number 1 was despatched to the wine cellar to fetch some wine and workaway number 2 was ordered to begin the task of opening the wine.

Workaway one fetching a bottle of wine

Workaway 2 successfully opens the bottle of wine

What happened next was unbelievable, all the expensive programming just stopped working. They couldn’t follow simply instructions, when I suggested workaway 1 should go and mow the lawn she collapsed in giggles.

Workaway one just laughed when I asked her to mow the lawn

Workaway one just giggled when I asked her to mow the lawn

When I told workaway 2 to clear up the mess and start cleaning the kitchen she just laughed at me. It was a very disappointing evening.

Workaway 2 laughed when I told her to clean the kitchen

Yesterday I returned the workaways to America with a strongly written complaint and I have suggested they should improve their user manual. I have ordered another workaway for September, hopefully its programming will not be affected by a little alcohol.

Thanks to Mrs Sensible for tolerating me and a very Special thanks to Jessica and Liz for being so much fun and working so hard and thanks to the guy who invented workaway red wine.

Moving house, C.O.S.I and my apologies.

Posted on July 7, 2014 by Pecora Nera • Posted in Uncategorized • Tagged an englishman in italy, c.o.s.i moving house, expat, fun expats, humour, Italians, language, Mrs Sensible, Pecora Nera, piemonte • 63 Comments

Seven days ago Mrs Sensible and I moved house, it was not the first time I have moved house, in fact I have moved house seven times, so you would think I would be organised and remember to write the contents on each box as I pack them. One would think that after seven moves I would remember to pack the kettle with its power cord and tie the screws for the wardrobe to one of the doors so that I could reassemble the wardrobe at the new house.

Where is my hairdryer?

Unfortunately our new house resembles an explosion at an Ikea warehouse. There are bits of wardrobe in one room and bits in another, the important screws are still missing. My office had to be quickly assembled in the garden so that I could earn some pennies. I even installed a light in case the moon didn’t come out.

office up and ready

And how is Mrs Sensible I hear you ask, well a tad stressed, her office kitchen cabinets currently share the floor in the dining room with the sofa and lots of boxes. The cooker won’t cook and the fridge won’t freeze. Mrs Sensible is creating some wonderful meals using a microwave, her ingenuity and some spoons that miraculously were packed in a box marked kitchen.

Mrs Sensible can cook all this with just her microwave

A week before we moved I received an invitation to join a group called C.O.S.I Crazy Observations by Stranieri in Italy. C.O.S.I Someone who shall remain nameless put my name forward because he ‘sensibly’ realised he was too busy to participate in the group. I on the other hand have never been particularly sensible; as my long-suffering wife will tell you. On Friday I was supposed to upload a post regarding “trying to learn the Italian language”. Fridays’ dead line came and went; I think I was struggling up stairs with two suitcases of clothes at the time. Besides in the past seven years, I have never managed to learn more than a few Italian words, so I am probably not the best person to blog about this particular subject.

So here are my apologies.

To Cosi: sorry mates I will try harder next time.

To Mrs Sensible: sorry I lost the kettle lead, wardrobe screws, tooth-brush chargers, my underwear, your shoes, the washer hose and you are right I did only remember our wedding anniversary when I was at the supermarket checkout and that is why you only ended up with a scabby box of chocolates.

Links to the C.O.S.I group.

‘An American speaking Italian is like a dancer having two left feet.‘ – Married to Italy
‘Italian the Hard Way‘ – Surviving in Italy
‘Speaking Italian has ruined my English‘ – Rick’s Rome
‘How I almost lost my native language‘ – Girl in Florence
Learning Italian in Florence – The Florence Diaries
unwillingexpat.wordpress.com/2014/07/04/tongue-tied-in-italy/ – Unwilling Expat

Starvation Diet

Posted on June 20, 2014 by Pecora Nera • Posted in Health • Tagged an englishman in italy, englishman, englishman in italy, exercise, fun expats, humour, italian, Italians, Mrs Sensible, Pecora Nera, running, workaway • 55 Comments

Mrs Sensible is being a really, really good girl, she went to the dietician at the hospital this week and was awarded 10 Brownie points and 2 gold stars for being a really good girl and losing another 4 kilos. I on the other hand have not been particularly good and didn’t receive anything.

2 Gold stars for Mrs Sensible

For dinner today Mrs Sensible fed me and our two guestaways a very healthy salad with a little bit of cheese and a little bit of fresh salmon and two peppers stuffed with rice. For some reason I only received one pepper. At about 4.00 pm Mrs Sensible left the house and I went in search of food.

I found a very large packet of crisps and decided to wash it down with one or two glasses of wine. Just as I was relaxing and feeling mellow and contented one of our workaways appeared in her running kit and said she was going for a run. I very nearly asked if I could join her, but sanity kicked in and I took another sip of my wine and another handful of crisps.

This red stuff helps to make me quite philosophical

Twenty minutes later, during my second glass of wine, guestaway number 2 appeared in her running kit and said she was going for a quick run; maybe it was the wine talking but I found myself asking if I could join her…….

How far do you go?

Oh about 45 minutes

Ah ha; do you run the full 45 minutes or do you also walk a little?

I might walk up hills it depends.

So I put on my Booby Charlton running shorts, turned on the Run keeper app on my phone and followed her out the door.

Ready in my Bobby Charlton Football Shorts

As soon as we got outside she started to do stretching exercises, it was at this point that I started to feel a little worried. As she bent over to touch her toes, I bent over and managed to touch my knee caps. As she stretched and put her chin on her knee, I stretched and managed to see my knee caps which seemed a long way away. And then we started running.

Pull that stomach in

I know she is only 19 and in the prime of her life but ‘spiders’ how is it possible that she can run up our road and hold a normally conversation.

So how far do you normally run?

Gasp, pant, gasp, not much! pant gasp wheeze.

There is a really nice breeze, this is nice weather to run in.

Wheeze, cough, wheeze, Yes, cough wheeze pant.

I managed to stay with her all the way up to the cowsheds and then my internal organs started to close down and I suffered severe cramp in my left big toe and had to stop.

“Go Go” I managed to utter as she disappeared up the hill.

Feeling a little ashamed and very old I slowly turned around and half ran and half hobbled home.

My runkeeper app didn’t help me either, I am sure I heard it say “Oye old man get running” and “do you want to change the setting from run to walk slowly”

Tomorrow I have committed myself to another run, I just need to find out if workaway number 1 runs slower than workaway number 2, maybe I will quiz them over a glass of wine.

Mrs Sensible has left me :(

Posted on May 31, 2014 by Pecora Nera • Posted in Uncategorized • Tagged an englishman in italy, expat, fun expats, gilda, humour, Italian wedding, Italians, Mrs Sensible, Pecora Nera, Scooby Doo, sicily • 67 Comments

The first thing you are going to ask is “has she taken Scooby Doo the cat with her?” Well the answer is no, she has left the scabby white cat here with me and no doubt we will both starve. Did I drive her mad and force her to leave me? Has she finally said “basta!” (enough is enough!) . All I can tell you is she has flown to Sicily to marry somebody. Before I tell you what has happened, go and pour yourself a glass of wine and then bring your chair closer to the computer screen while I explain what has happened.

Mrs Sensible leaving into the Sunset

Mrs Sensible flew to Sicily on Friday afternoon; no sooner had Mrs Sensible left these golden shores when Scooby Doo and I quickly made an inventory of the bacon in the fridge and the number of cans of cat food in the cupboard. I think I will starve first because I only have 3 packs of bacon left and Scooby Doo has 6 cans of cat food, plus he is not willing to share his food with me.

The cat was well prepared

While I was looking in the kitchen for the emergency stash of chocolates and crisps, I found the following note pinned on the kitchen cupboard.

To Do,

Paint the new house.

Keep this house tidy.

Make your bed.

Water the plants.

Feed Scooby Doo

Do Not,

Have a party.

Mess with the washing machine.

Order more wine.

Eat all the crisps.

Annoy Scooby Doo.

I have already started dropping hints with friends that I am Home Alone and may starve to death over the weekend and to-date,

Pecora Nera & Scooby Doo

I have had no dinner or lunch invitations. Friday night I ended up eating a kebab in a Turkish takeaway in a little village called Fubina. Mustapha who served me said “it good you here, I practice English with you, I want live near Manchester United; Italy hot but no good. England land of Milk and Honey” This might not be exactly what he said, I was only half listening to him while I was eating my kebab whilst wondering if the scabby white cat had worked out how to use the can opener.

If only Scooby Doo had opposing thumbs

Tonight I flipped a coin, ‘heads’ I cook bacon sandwiches or ‘tales’ I go to dinner with a lithe sweet young thing and enjoy a romantic evening for two. It was tales and I had a nice pint of beer, a chilli con carne and a fabulous pack of Brown Bag Crisp whilst staring into the eyes of my guest.

My dates eyes were like puddles, bicycle peddles.

So why has Mrs Sensible left me and flown to Sicily, top up your glass with some more wine and I will tell you. Mrs Sensible has gone to marry someone. Not as in to marry someone, (one black sheep is quite enough for Mrs Sensible) but as in marry two people together. It would appear there has been a new law in Italy, anyone who is deemed Sensible enough by the local council can officiate and marry people and so Mrs Sensible has flown to Sicily to officiate and marry two of our friends together.

She gets to wear one of those Italian banners over her shoulder

She got to wear one of these green white and red things

and ask the new couple the important questions such as:-

Do you take this man to be you lawful wedding husband, and promise to keep the fridge stocked with beer and his slippers and his pipe next to the fire?

And

Do you take this woman to be your lawful wedded wife and always remember to open her car door for her and forgive her when she is short tempered and a growly monster for 1 week in every 4.

So it is Saturday night, I am home alone with only a bottle of wine and my wordpress friends to keep me company. Mrs Sensible will be back on Monday morning, which gives me plenty of time to straighten up the house and hide all the evidence of chocolate wrappers and empty wine bottles.

How is Scooby Doo the scabby white cat I hear you asking, well last time I looked he had given up with the can opener and eaten Gilder’s the short legged but incredible fat dog’s dinner.

Spectacular Failure #001

Posted on April 22, 2014 by Pecora Nera • Posted in Uncategorized • Tagged an englishman in italy, brown bag crisps, conzano, expat, fun expats, humour, Italians, italy, Pecora Nera, piemonte, working in italy • 45 Comments

In an attempt to educate the taste buds of Italy, we booked a stall at the Conzano village fair. We packed 400 packs of crisps into my Mini, one large umbrella to protect us from the blazing Italian sun and five receipt books to help us to comply with the Italian bureaucracy.

My business partner and his daughter also had a full car; it contained one makeshift table and enough provisions to sustain us through the day. At five-thirty in the morning, I foolishly climbed out of bed, drank the tea that Mrs Sensible had made me while she ironed my shirt, had a bowl of soggy cornflakes and sleepwalked my way to my little mini. When I arrived at my partner’s house he was still enjoying a cup of tea and warm croissants for his breakfast.

Not only was it raining, but some fool was trying to drive down the road as we were driving up it.

In convoy we finally set out for Conzano. The promotional leaflet we had been given advertised clowns, angels, sunshine and dancing girls with snakes. Unfortunately when we arrived, we were greeted by white vans, rain, unhappy looking stall holders and big wet looking puddles; oh, did I mention the wind and the driving rain that was arriving horizontally?

The leaflet promised clowns, angels and dancing girls with snakes.

We convened a management meeting underneath a semi-waterproof gazebo to discuss how we were going to erect our sun-proof umbrella. There were many helpful suggestions, including one or two suggestions that can’t be published.

Brown Bag Crisps Management team. This gazebo cost the owner 1,800 euros, but it didn’t look very high to me

At 7.30 am (I should mention that I ‘m normally still be in bed at this time) we decamped and ran through the rain to the nearest bar for a hot cappuccino and the chance to dry out.

A well deserved hot cappuccino after a mornings work

A well deserved hot cappuccino after a morning’s hard and demanding work.

When we returned to our rain battered umbrella, we had another short meeting with two other stall holders to discuss whether the weather would improve. While I was taking photos to record this farcical attempt at promoting our crisps, I saw arriving through the driving rain, or at least I am pretty positive that’s what I saw, an old man with a beard walking up the hill of Conzano carrying one hammer and several planks of wood; he was closely followed by two cats, two dogs, two ducks and two of every other kind of animal imaginable. Taking this as a sign, we decided to cut down our sun umbrella and head for home.

You can cut this picture out and colour it in on a rainy day.

To see if we are coming to a sunny festival near you, check out or web site and our facebook page.

Pecora Nera, What have you done with my hairdryer?

Posted on April 7, 2014 by Pecora Nera • Posted in Uncategorized • Tagged an englishman in italy, englishman, expat, fun expats, humour, Mrs Sensible, Pecora Nera • 73 Comments

Erh! Packed it.

Mrs Sensible: We don’t move house for another 3 months…

Uh Huh,

Mrs Sensible: Go and unpack it.

But!

Mrs Sensible: Do it.

Mrs Sensible’s hairdryer rescued from the box

I have been absent, once again from bloggoland because I am in the midst of a packing frenzy, plus other distractions that I will come to in a minute. We currently live in a house that was renovated by a man who had a fetish for light switches. Honest I am not kidding, in our lounge there are 12 switches on the wall and only one light bulb in the ceiling. Over the past four years we have worked out that we can operate the kitchen, lounge, bathroom, hallway and outside lights from the bank of switches in the lounge.

A bank of 5 switches, we also have a bank of 3 on the other side of the settee and a bank of 4 on the other wall

In the hallway I have 2 lights in the ceiling and another 11 switches, you may be asking yourself what all the fuss is about; well let me enlighten you. In Northern Italy it gets pretty cold in the winter and when I get out of bed to visit the bathroom it can take 5 minutes to work out which switch will operate the light I need, while I am dancing on the cold floor growling at the light switches, Mrs Sensible is telling me off for walking on cold tilled floors in bare feet and all I needed was a wee…. not some sensible advice.

I am also positive that Luigina (the nice lady who lives next door) is well aware that I am about to go to the bathroom in the middle of the night, not because she can hear me cursing the light switches, but because she can see the exterior lights flash on and off followed by the kitchen light the lounge light one of the bedroom lights and finally if I am lucky the hall light.

Someone, anyone please switch on the light!!

Over the past 4 years Mrs Sensible has managed to work out which switch where, operates which light; there is however, one switch that even Mrs Sensible doesn’t know the function of. I think it controls the light in Luigina’s bathroom, and every so often I give it a little flick, but so far I haven’t heard her scream.

So we are on the move to our new house, I am very excited and have packed my books, pictures, pots and pans. I have also unpacked pots and pans the occasional hairdryer and one or two other things that Mrs Sensible thought that she had lost.

On top of the grand move to our new house, I have started a new business with an Italian friend. I firmly believe that any person who wants to open a business should be passionate about his product. Mrs Sensible vetoed the idea of importing Bacon Butties, she also vetoed skimpy underwear which left me with crisps.

Maria Grazia Cucinotta from the great Italian film il postino. I am told she wears skimpy underwear.

So here is a shameless plug for my new business.

Brown Bag Crisps

Please come and have a look at us at

www.brownbagcrisps.it and join us at our facebook page

PS. I think I had better go and unpack that Scabby White Cat.

How much is that pussy in the window,♫♪♫ I do hope that pussys for sale♫♪♫

Posted on February 27, 2014 by Pecora Nera • Posted in Uncategorized • Tagged an englishman in italy, fat dog, lost cat, Mrs Sensible, Pecora Nera • 81 Comments

~~Scabby~~ Scooby Doo, the Machiavellian pussy cat that has taken residency in my garage has been found alive, hungry and well. This is good news for Mrs Sensible, me and all cat lovers of the world.

Scooby Doo

Scobby Doo the ~~sweet~~, ~~loveable~~, ~~handsome~~, scabby white cat who has been missing since Friday morning, has been found in Luigina’s upstairs bedroom. Yesterday as we were walking towards Luigina’s house, Mrs Sensible said “did you hear that” No, what was it? “Shhh!” she demanded “I just heard Scooby Doo meowing” Without another word Mrs Sensible warbled SCOOOOOBBBBYYYYY DOOOOOOOOOOO WHERE ARE YOOOUUUUUU?

Honest I am not kidding, she really shouted it. We then heard a faint Meow, and Mrs S pointed at Luigina’s upstairs window and said look he is there. While Mrs Sensible went running down to Luigina’s vegetable patch (Luigina spends her life down there digging holes) I went running in search of my camera to catch the wonderful rescue for posterity.

Peek a Boo

It seems that Scooby Doo had given up trying to enter my house and decided to enter Luigina’s house and in the fine tradition of Goldilocks And The Three Little Bears, he had fallen asleep in one of the bedrooms. Luigina had then closed the bedroom door and locked the cat in. At sometime over the past 5 days, Scooby Doo tried to escape from the room by breaking the window, he then climbed through the hole in the glass and found himself stuck between the window pane and the shutter. Don’t ask me how a cat can break a pane of glass, I really don’t know.

I have to add here, that Luagina was very ill during the winter and is sleeping in one of the downstairs rooms, she is also a little deaf so she didn’t hear Scooby smashing the window or meowing to be let out.

Gilda fat dog to the rescue

While I was ~~taunting~~ photographing the cat from outside, Mrs Sensible, Luigina and Gilda the incredibly fat but short-legged dog all ran upstairs to rescue Scooby Doo. Mrs Sensible said “Scooby had behaved himself whilst he was incarcerated in Luigina’s house” She said “Apart from breaking the window and peeing in the corner of the room, he hasn’t left any little or big parcels for Luagina to clean up.”

The first steps of freedom for Scooby Doo

Despite being locked up for 5 days without food or water, Scooby Doo was reluctant to leave the house, I could hear Mrs Sensible ordering the cat to “go, out, out, scat cat” I took the photo on speed mode and it is still a little blurred, so you can imagine how fast he finally exited the house.

Thirsty Cat

After leaving the house, Scooby ran over to my little home-made fish pond (If you want one of these little ponds for your garden please send me your orders. The first order will be supplied with 5 fish and a white cat) and drank 2 liters of water. He then celebrated his release from captivity with a little victory roll.

Freedom Roll

At the moment Scooby Doo won’t leave us alone. He is permanently stuck to either my left ankle of Mrs Sensible’s right ankle. Four times we have had to remove him from the car, when we needed to go out.

First meal for our little prisoner, fresh salmon and tinned cat food

So alls well that ends well.

PS. This cat is still free to a good home or even a bad home. Although Mrs Sensible says he is staying.

Mrs Sensible has Man Flu

Posted on February 25, 2014 by Pecora Nera • Posted in Uncategorized • Tagged diet, hospital costs, italian hospital, man flu, Mrs Sensible, Pecora Nera, woman flu • 89 Comments

Even woman get man flu

Ok, she hasn’t got Man Flu, she had Man Flu, it was last Friday to be precise. So Mrs Sensible and I trotted off to the doctors to see if there was a cure. While Mrs S went in to see the doctor, I sat in the waiting room listening to BBC Radio 4 on my new phone. I really should write a post about my new phone, I can listen to English radio, play games, count the calories I am not losing. The only thing it is not very good at, is holding a signal long enough for me to make a telephone call.

When Mrs S came out of the doctor’s office, she had in her hand a fist full of prescriptions. 64 Euros it cost for the assortment of pills and potions she needed to get rid of the man flu. She also had a prescription for me.

“Er, Whats this for ?”

“It’s for the hospital, I have booked you a visit”

“Why?”

“To see a dietitian”

I tried to convince Mrs Sensible that I was suffering from just a little bit of puppy fat, or maybe excess winter fat that would go as soon as spring arrives. The problem is, Italians take their health and other people’s health really seriously. In Italy you don’t need to be ill to go to see a doctors, you can go and see him because… well because you think you might be ill in the future. An Italian doctors surgery is more like a community center, it is full of healthy people passing the time of day. The sick Italians are all at home in bed, they just send their husbands to the waiting room with a list of their symptoms.

Today, I went to the hospital to see my personal dietitian. Of course, you now think I am grossly over weight, but I am not, I just need to eat a little less and run a bit more, instead of running a little less and eating a bit more.

So arriving at the hospital, I was greeted by the bingo machine, I asked a women which ticket I needed and after perusing the machine she shrugged her shoulders and said ” no lo so” So I pressed ‘G’ If any of you can understand Italian, please will you have a look at the following and give me a translation for my next visit.

Englishmen, Immigrants and Pecora Nera

While I was waiting for G19 to be called I watched one woman approach the machine and after scanning the list of options, I guess she also didn’t understand the information, because she then walked over to the bingo machine on the left, found out it was identical and walked back to the first machine and took 2 tickets, option a and option b. In the past I was so undecided which ticket to take, I took one of each (see Hospital Bingo)

2 machines, neither made any sense.

Finally my number was called out

G19, Look at the holes in the metal chairs!!!! I wonder if they leave circles on your bum?

And I then wandered over to the cubicle that was flashing the number G19

Payment time

As I handed the woman my ticket (just to prove I hadn’t queue jumped) and my prescription, plus €50.00, yes we have to pay for treatment in Italy. She looked at me a bit strangely, I immediately knew what she was thinking, she was thinking, why does this slim good looking human specimen need to see a dietitian. In fact I had suggested the same thing to Mrs Sensible earlier today.

After stamping my ticket, she refused my money and told me to go and pay next door.

They don’t accept debit cards, credit cards or even Tesco vouchers

The hospital has a bank in the corridor and all payments are made here, despite it being a bank, they don’t accept debit cards, credit cards or even Tesco vouchers. They only accept real Italian Euros.

Following the signs for the dietitian, I found this wonderful sign.

Psychology Dietitian and Competent Doctors

At least I was heading towards the competent doctors, I wonder where the incompetent doctors worked?

When I reached the dietitian Mrs Sensible was already there and waiting for me, she had already helped the doctor fill out my personal data. I was then interrogated as to my eating habits.

Dr. What do you eat for breakfast?

I don’t

Dr. You don’t??? Why not?

I don’t like breakfasts, I just have a cup of tea.

Dr. Ahh, this is going to be difficult, he is English. What do you eat at lunch time?

I don’t, if I am very hungry I will eat some breakfast cereals. I don’t tend to have time to eat during the day.

????????

Mrs Sensible then very helpfully told the doctor that I enjoy eating chocolates and biscuits, in fact she said I like to sit down in the evening with a glass of wine and a handful of biscuits. I didn’t take offence as this is perfectly normal behavior isn’t it?

Dr. What do you drink?

Water, erh also a little wine.

Dr. How much do you drink?

mmm maybe 2 or 3 glasses, but not everyday.

Dr. You will have to drink only 1 glass a day.

Mrs S. When we have friends over, he sometimes drinks more than 3 and he likes grappa.

Dr. Well if you have a fiesta (party) then it is ok to drink more wine, but no grappa.

PN to Mrs S That’s ok then, we will have a fiesta more often.

So after I was weighed, measured ~~and deloused~~ a second appointment was booked when I will receive my diet sheet.

Weighed, measured and de-loused

I have had a couple of thoughts following the hospital visit.

1) If I am only allowed to drink one glass of wine a day, I need to buy bigger glasses.

2) If I am only allowed to enjoy a couple of glasses when friends visit, then I need to increase the number of my friends and invite them over more often.

3) I paid 46 Euros to be told I eat at the wrong time, eat the wrong foods and enjoy drinking too much wine oh and I need to exercise more. Mrs Sensible thinks it is money well spent because I will lose weight rather than be tutted at by the doctor at my next appointment. I think 46 euros would have been better spent on 8 bottles of Marco’s fine wine and a packet of biscuits.

I know this is my second post in a day, but I have been absent for a while. I have a couple more to post over the following couple of days, and a lot of blogs to go and read.

Missing. Scabby White Cat

Posted on February 25, 2014 by Pecora Nera • Posted in Uncategorized • Tagged an englishman in italy, englishman, expat, fun expats, humour, italian, Italian cats, Italians, missing cats, Mrs Sensible, Pecora Nera • 82 Comments

Scooby Doo where are you?

Scooby Doo was last seen on Friday morning, when he exited the garage to eat his breakfast. Since then we have not heard him meow once. I know I have offered on more than one occasion to post Scooby Doo to a good home (or even a bad home) but we are missing him and his crazy antics. We have called him and searched the vineyards, but he is nowhere to be seen.

Scooby Doo

Mrs Sensible is convinced he is no longer with us, as in maybe he has gone to the cat heaven. Luigina, the nice old lady who lives next door, suggested he may have moved house again, she pointed out to me that “Scooby Doo used to live across the road, maybe he is now living further up the road”

I told Mrs Sensible that Luigina thinks Scooby is still alive, but just living with someone else. Mrs Sensible said “maybe he has moved back home” “What across the road with the Hounds from the Baskervilles!! highly unlikely I said.

Nice cuddly friendly cat loving dogs. AKA Hounds from the Baskervilles

Mrs Sensible is going to go and ask the neighbors across the street, if they have ~~abducted~~ seen their cat. I am sure it will be an interesting conversation, because at some point she is going to have to tell them, that their cat has been living in our garage for around 4 months.

Gilda, the short legged but incredibly fat dog was also questioned. We know she has a habit of eating anything that is left lying around. She is the only dog I know that can eat a yard of grass and not barf afterwards.

The only reason her stomach is not touching the floor, is because she breathed in when she saw the camera.

So, on a more serious note. Have you seen ~~the cat that lives across the road~~ our cat.

It seemed like a good idea at the time

Posted on January 7, 2014 by Pecora Nera • Posted in Uncategorized • Tagged an englishman in italy, englishman in italy, expat, Falling down stairs, fun expats, humour, Italian Christmas tree, italy, Mrs Sensible, near death experience., Pecora Nera, piemonte • 72 Comments

Marisa and Giorgio live a couple of villages away. They own the flower shop that I visit when I am in trouble with Mrs Sensible. I am therefore quiet a regular customer.

Here is a small collection of orchids I have bought to try to get back into Mrs Sensible’s good books.

They are not dead, they are due to flower and please don’t suggest they need more water, or you will set Mrs Sensible off again.

I am such a regular visitor to their flower shop that we often get invited to their home to dine on pizza and grappa.

Marisa outside her flower shop. Courtesy Google maps.

During the summer of 2011 I was once again in trouble, so I went to Marisa’s shop to buy another orchid or a bunch of flowers, when I suddenly fell in love with a beautiful Christmas tree. So I bought it; it just seemed like a good idea at the time. Marisa asked me how I was going to get it home, I was a little stumped, my basic Italian vocabulary does not extend to lengthy conversations, I usually get by with, va bene ( ok) mi piace ( I like it) and non lo so ( I don’t know). So I opted for non lo so.

Giorgio, who is a bit of a hero, offered to deliver the tree for me, he asked me when I needed it delivering. I pondered this for a moment, I was already in trouble for something and I didn’t think adding a Christmas tree to the house was going to help marital bliss, so I said non lo so.

Marisa said “due settimane?” (2 weeks?) This seemed perfectly acceptable, because Christmas was at least 5 months away, so there wasn’t any rush. In fact the longer they kept it; the more time I had to dream up a plausible excuse for buying a Christmas tree in the summer.

Two weeks later, Giorgio and Marisa arrived with my Christmas tree. I had completely forgotten all about the imminent arrival of yet more troubles. In fact I had forgotten to work on Mrs Sensible; I had forgotten my carefully laid out plan on how to convince Mrs Sensible that buying a Christmas tree in the summer, made perfect sense.

Christmas 2012, the tree sat outside in the snow, festooned with lights. Scooby Doo was still living with the big dogs across the road. Had he decided to move in during 2012 he could have spent his Christmas sheltering under the tree from the snow.

Finding out how large a box I will need to post Scooby Doo to a willing Blogging friend

This year I decided to bring the tree inside the house and hang little baubles and lights on it. It seemed like a good idea at the time. After carrying the tree up 17 steps, I had already regretted buying the heavy and prickly thing. Manoeuvring it through the front door I had to use one foot to keep the cat outside and the other foot to close the door.

The tree looked wonderful, it didn’t shed many pine leaves, mainly because it was still alive and carrying it up stairs I can testify that it was sat in at least 40 kilos of Piermonte clay.

A little Christmas tree

Today Christmas is officially over. Befana has been and gone and I stripped the tree of all its pretty lights and baubles. Like the rest of us, the Christmas tree has put on some extra weight and it looks a little bigger.

It just fitted through the door.

I dragged it down the corridor and before attempting the 17 stairs I paused to get my breath. As I then started down the stairs, the plastic plate that the tree stood on, broke free and miraculously slid under my right foot that was just trying to find purchase on step number 4. All hell broke loose, the tree, Pecora Nera (Me) and the plastic plate disappeared down the stairs faster than you could say ‘It seemed like a good idea at the time’

Stupid plastic plate

As the tree, me and the @#+??$% plastic plate collided through the front doors, Gilda who is not the best guard dog I have ever come across, decided to attack the strange howling and swearing mess of tree and the creature that was tangled up in it.

Ask Gilda to attack an intruder and she will retire to her food bowl. Fall down the stairs with a Christmas tree and all of a sudden it is an attack dog.

Ask Gilda to attack an intruder and she will retire to her food bowl. Fall down the stairs with a Christmas tree and all of a sudden it is a ferocious attack dog.

Next year when we start blogging about Christmas and decorating our houses, please please please remind me that it is not such a good idea to use real live still growing trees that weigh 50 kilos as an ornamental Christmas Tree.

New Year’s Resolution.

1) To act more like a grown up

2) Not to follow my own advice

3) Not to use any more real and potentially life threatening trees at Christmas

Christmas truce Scooby Doo and Gilda Style.

Posted on December 18, 2013 by Pecora Nera • Posted in home • Tagged an englishman in italy, cat food, dog eats cat food, englishman, expats, fun, humour, italy, Mrs Sensible, Pecora Nera, piemonte, Scooby Doo • 84 Comments

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 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

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

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.