run for home

My last day at work here in Italy… everything is pretty much sorted now. All I have to do this evening is a little cleaning in my apartment: all my remaining stuff is packed and ready to go. I suppose I should go around saying goodbye to people. Don’t know if I can be arsed…

ultimo

This is my last week in Italy. I leave on Thursday lunchtime.

I can’t say I’m sorry to be leaving; it can’t come soon enough. Leaving aside for a moment, HP, Miles and (soon) Jack, I’d still want to get back to the UK. Italy’s a nice place to visit but living here, and especially here in Fabriano, is not for me.

jolly cars

My car was towed away again this morning. Last night I parked in the small square at the end of my street and this morning there was a market there to celebrate some saint or something. There was a sign stating not to park there today – I noticed it this morning – but it was positioned in a place that was impossible to see from the route I took into the square. I’m not really bothered; I’m going home soon!

This being the second time this has happened, I knew exactly where to go. The compound is on the way to work anyway so I was only around 10 minutes late.

arrivederci

Good news. I’m going home to the UK next week. For good.

It’s quite strange. Last week I was working in the UK and had a chat with my department director about coming back; what I would be doing, etc. Nothing was really decided but I said I’d start the ball rolling at my end. I had envisaged weeks of pestering the relevant people to get it all sorted out. And then this afternoon my boss came and asked for a quickword. He told me I was being repatriated next week to continue working on the project in the UK.

I’m amazed. Delighted too but mainly amazed at the moment. A little suspicious too. There may be some politics behind this.

Now I have the logistical nightmare of moving all my stuff back. I’d planned doing it gradually: each visit home I’d take some more stuff until I was only left with a suitcase-full and the stuff I’ll have to send via a courier.

I was just about to save this when I was copied on an email from my italian boss to my UK boss. It seems a chance comment by me has been misunderstood and things have spiralled from there.

peasants part 3

And they don’t even sell soup! Oh I’m sorry they do have 3 kinds of soup: chickpea, bean or minestrone di verdura (vegetable).

Yum.

peasants part 2

At lunchtime I saw “Batman” the cat (see Fabriano Cats photo gallery) just outside my “terrace”. I opened the back door to say hello to him. He’s quite shy so I wasn’t surprised when he was reluctant to approach. I was surprised when a fucking big rat moved from behind some garden debris towards Batman. The cat backed away but the rat then turned around and came on to my terrace (the door was already closed!). It came right up to the door so I kicked the door and it sort of jumped up at the door, squeaking. Then as Batman approached the rat ran off the terrace and plunged down into the sort of yard area beneath the apartment. It’s about a 15ft drop but it was still squeaking away and scurrying about. I could tell where it was going coz the cat was eyeing it. Batman seemed to think about going down for it but changed his mind and buggered off.

I hate rats. If this was the UK I’d call the council. Here, it’s probably normal. God I hate living here.

Peasants

Around 7.30-ish yesterday evening, I was parking my car in the street near my apartment and noticed an old man having a piss against the wall.

Last year in Lodz (Poland) I was with an Italian colleague when we saw a man pissing against a wall in the city. To my colleague it was emblematic of what a wretched place Lodz was (in his opinion).

Lodz is an industrial city in a poor country that suffered heavily during the war and in the post-war communist years. Fabriano is a small town in Italy.

il temp è bello

After a lengthy spell of very wet weather it’s been gloriously sunny and warm the last two days. I hope it’s here to stay. One of the [few] things I do like about being in Italy is the distinct seasons. Certainly where I am the winters are invariably worse than in Britain but summer is brilliant. And once the weather turns good it stays good until September.

Green and pleasant land

Steve, a colleague from the UK and a fellow Geordie, is over here for a few days so I’ve been out the last couple of nights. Last night I was trying to explain why I wouldn’t want to live here. Obviously, there are big reasons like HP (and Miles) and my mum, etc. But even without those commitments I still wouldn’t want to stay. It’s very hard to express why and the reasons that I can articulate sound very petty. Here, without much thought, are some of the things I miss about home:

• Newspapers
• Non-italian food (eating Italian every day is boring)
• British sense of humour
• Sandwiches
• Going to the cinema
• Quality TV (I don’t watch a lot of TV when I’m at home but it’s nice to have the choice. For example, I would have liked to watch the dramatisation of Steven Hawking’s early life this week. Italian TV is all shite.)
• Piss-taking
• Sarcasm
• Radio

At least I didn’t say I missed something like baked beans or fish ‘n’ chips!

need cushion

I have a sore bum today from walking around the very hilly, Urbino (above). There are many wonderful towns and villages in the Marche but this really is spectacular.

After an hour or so of wandering I drove to Fano where I was one of two people sitting on this beach. It was warm enough for a T shirt. Well it was for me, the Italians walking on the beach all still had coats on.