FOR A FRIEND

A dear friend and former neighbour of mine died on Saturday afternoon at the University Hospital of Wales in Cardiff.

This lady often exasperated and even angered me because her political and societal views were very different from mine but she possessed, in abundance, that undervalued quality without which we are nothing - kindness.

In 2005, on the day when my dog Simi and I flew to Sicily, unwell and partially disabled as my friend was at the time, she dragged herself, on public transport, up to Heathrow Airport. (I had already been in London a week, saying my goodbyes to the city.) She did this because she hadn't wanted me to get on that plane, permanently leaving everything that was familiar, without having someone to wave at as I boarded. It was a gesture of friendship which will stay with me always.

Brexit drove a wedge between us from 2016 but in recent years she sought me out again and I tried to stay off the subject when we communicated!

Since Saturday I have been trying to remember the good times, such as going to the Hay Festival every year and doing the Elgar Trail one summer around Worcestershire. You loved gardens, my friend, so as I write, I am thinking of our visit to the Elgar garden in the Malvern Hills.

You embarked on many journeys in your life and you were sure that this last one would lead you to the God you so sincerely believed in. Bon voyage and say "Hello" to my mum and Simi up there. 

HAPPY NEW YEAR, A LITTLE LATE

I write this the day after the eighth anniversary of the death of my beloved dog, Simi, whom some of you may remember from posts of yesteryear. It's never an easy day, as the dog lovers among you will understand, but I am grateful for the time we had and to her for sending me my Bertie.

 

If ever a dog needed a lot of love, it is Bertie and she came to the right place to receive it! Bertie certainly gives a lot of love in return, and here she is after her Christmas haircut:

Santa Paws came, just as he used to for Simi and then Bertie discovered that life is full of choices:

On festive evenings we snuggled under an old favourite Christmas blanket and we enjoyed it:

"I like it under here, I do!"

Pre-Christmas rather passed me by, I'm afraid and the prohibitive cost and even more hassle of sending cards to the UK these days left me resorting to e-cards en masse. I did, however, manage a day in Catania on the Thursday before Christmas. I had felt in need of the atmosphere of a big city and it looked particularly lovely in the sunshine, with its charming festive mercatini:

I loved the reindeer!

It's difficult to take a selfie when you want to get the famous Catania elephant that is above you in the frame but are afraid to put your bags on the ground because of the possibility of pickpockets (as in any big city). 

Back in Modica, this simple but beautiful shop window cheered me as I passed it every day. A photo does not do it justice:

Then all too soon it was twelfth night and taking the decorations down made me sadder than ever this year. Perhaps it is ageing and the effects of the insecurity about the future that we all probably feel post- pandemic. My Christmas tree ornaments consist mostly of mementoes and my Rome and Norwich robin ones have pride of place. They are in their wrapping now, until next year, God willing. 

 HAPPY NEW YEAR, EVERYONE!

WE WERE HERE!

Buona Festa della Repubblica, Italy!

June 2nd is also important for me because it marks the anniversary of my arrival, with my dog Simone, in Italy to live - sixteen years ago today.

They have not been sixteen years without trouble, darkness and even despair and of course the Covid situation has brought sadness and despair to us all, wherever we are. Those of us who have our hearts in two countries also worry twice, despair twice and grieve twice, just as we rejoice with both our countries when things go well. So please do not think that, because I have left the UK, I do not care about it, because I very much do.

This day brings many memories back to me and it is perhaps particularly poignant this year, as it was in 2020. I imagined many scenarios, both good and bad, that could happen when I settled here, but never did I imagine a tragedy like Covid - how could I, when the best scientists and virologists in the world did not? Nor can I inagine what the situation would have been like for me if I had lived through it in my country of birth; I can only try to deal with the situation here and now, and be happy that this is one bank holiday - only the second since the pandemic began, I think - which we in Italy are not spending in lockdown. 

And of course, today I think a lot of my little Simi, who "went on", as my mother used to say, six years ago now, though I believe she is still with me. Sometimes when I am out with my precious Bertie I see her there, beside us, and I say, "Walk with us part of the way, sweetheart", and I believe she does. Then she is gone again.

So on this day of many memories, I offer you an extract, recalling June 2nd 2005, from my book. (Yes, I have written a book! )

Three days later, I boarded the bus from Cardiff Bus Station to Gatwick Airport. I would stay three nights in a hotel there, walk around London and bid it farewell – for I didn't know if or when I would be in the UK again - and then, on the morning of 2 June 2005, Simi and I would board our flight to Italy. And that is what I did. I didn't go out to Pinner - Mum and Dad were in my heart, wherever I was or would be. Instead, I lit two candles for them in Westminster Abbey. Then I walked slowly around Poet's Corner to thank all those who are commemorated there, lingering the longest for Tennyson, Browning and his Elizabeth, Shakespeare and of course, Dylan Thomas.

I had, of course, kept in touch with the pet transporter company and they had reassured me that Simi was fine. At the airport, she had to undergo a final health check at which I could not be present. When I arrived there, I asked about her at check-in and was told I should ask at the departure gate. I knew she had been sent there but nothing more. The gate staff told me to sit near them and they would make enquiries. I had to wait until all the other passengers had been checked in and then a kindly ground crew officer approached me and said he had just seen Simi and had given her water. He took me to the window so that I could see her little crate being loaded. (She wasn't allowed to be in the cabin with me and I knew this. I also knew that pets are flown in a special area in the hold. I had been worried but my Cardiff vet had told me it is actually better for them because it's cool and dark and they usually sleep.) Oh, my little baby! As I was watching, the co-pilot came along and said that he, too, had just seen her and that she was a little anxious but otherwise fine. A nice Scottish lady also came over to tell me she had overheard our conversation and knew how I felt as she had previously flown her Westie dog from Scotland to London. Not so far, but it was empathy and I appreciated it. Once I boarded, I spoke to the captain too and he told me Simi was just underneath the spot where we were standing. I felt better then, knowing exactly where she was. By the time I sat down, I was so tired that I slept most of the way.

As we came into Catania, I did not see Etna this time, but felt the familiar surge of emotion as we touched down on the soil of this most beloved of lands that I had decided to make my home.

We were here!

I loved you then, Italy and I love you now.

I will tell the kind readers of this blog more about the book next time!

REPUBLIC DAY PORK WITH CHERRIES AND GINGER

This recipe gets its name simply because I invented it today, which is the Festa della Repubblica holiday in Italy.   It's also the 11th anniversary of my arrival to settle in Sicily with my dog Simi, who will always be in my heart.

As it's the cherry season, I decided to use some with pork loin [lonza] and, as I like fusion cooking, to spice it up with ginger.  Here's what I did:

Pork loin with cherries and ginger

To serve four people generously, you will need a 1 kg piece of rolled pork loin [lonza]. Either ask an Italian butcher to season it for you with some garlic and herbs, including thyme, or rub it all over as best you can with a cut clove of garlic, some seasoning and some mixed fresh herbs yourself.  Ask the butcher to enclose it in butcher's netting or tie it in the normal way with cooking string. Grate a knob of fresh ginger all over it.   

Put the lonza in a glass dish and add 200 ml Prosecco, 1 tablesp pomegranate molasses,  freshly ground coarse seasalt  [I think Himalayan pink salt works best] and freshly ground black pepper to taste.  Leave in the fridge to marinate at least a couple of hours or overnight if you like.  I must say, I am becoming quite a fan of using Prosecco instead of dry white wine in marinades and I like using pomegranate molasses so much that I have to resist the temptation to chuck it in everything!


When you are ready, put it all into a small, foil-lined roasting tin.  Peel about 12 shallots, halve them if large, place them around the pork and cook for 45 mins at 180°C . Baste the pork occasionally and cover with foil if you think the top is browning too much.  [It is not meant to look like a British roast!]

Stone about 30 fresh cherries and put these in a pan with 2 tablesp. pomegranate molasses and another grated knob of ginger.  Just before the cooking time is up, bring  this mixture to the boil, stirring, and simmer for 1 min.  Pour it over the pork and let it continue cooking for another 5 mins at 150°C.


Remove the pork from the oven, let it rest 5 mins, then snip off the netting or string   It will be perfectly cooked. Slice it thinly and spoon the cherries and some of the sauce over it.  Place the shallots around it. Serve the rest of the sauce separately.  You can also garnish the pork with a few sprigs of thyme.

Buon appetito.

This is a variation on lonza recipes I have featured here and here.

SICILY SCENE REVISITED - AROUND THE ISLAND

Continuing my nostalgic journey through Sicily Scene's archives, I began to think about the many lovely places I have visited on this ever-fascinating island.  I have no doubt about my favourite - it is the Valley of Temples in Agrigento and I especially enjoyed this visit.  One of the most unusual events I have attended was the annual Easter display of "bread arches" at San Biagio Platani and I hope to get there again one day.  Then there is the Infiorata in Noto [coming up soon], which I try to attend every year and of course I love Catania! These are but a few of the island's treasures and there is always something new, somewhere, to discover.  But I think one of the most interesting trips I have taken was this early one, so I'll repeat the first of a series of posts on it here:

On the Nelson trail - 24th January 2007

About 37 miles northwest of Catania, tucked away in the shadow of Etna, lies the town of Bronte, the dukedom of which was bestowed upon a certain Admiral Horatio Nelson by a grateful King Ferdinando [III of Sicily and IV of Naples] in 1799. A little further on still is Maniace, where the former Benedictine Abbey became known as Il Castello dei Nelson. And that is where I have been today. It is a lovely and impressive place, as I hope the photos will show - much lovelier than I had anticipated. I should like to be able to tell you that England's saviour lingered there in the sun with his Emma - and many Sicilians believe that he did - but, alas, he died without ever having seen it. The first of his descendants to arrive there was his niece Charlotte, who, reaching it after a truly nightmarish journey, decided that it was not to her taste and stayed only three days! [More the fool her!] It was later used by other members of the family but under agrarian reform in Italy in 1961 much of the land was redistributed. The Nelson family sold the castle and park to the Comune of Bronte in 1981.

There may, however, be another British connection: the Rev. Patrick Prunty or Brunty, father of another Charlotte plus Emily, Anne and Branwell, changed his name to Brontë in 1802. I like to think that he did it as a homage to Nelson then added the diaeresis for effect and the dates do tally. By the way, I am not of the Mrs. Gaskell school of thought with regard to Patrick Brontë for I do not believe that he was a monster: he saw that his children were educated, encouraged them to write and cared for Branwell tenderly during the latter's last illness. I am also of the opinion that the main reason for his opposition to the Bell Nicholls marriage was concern for Charlotte's health, and in this he was, tragically, proved right. But I digress. Let us at least hope that poor, bereaved Mr. Brontë found some comfort in his name in the winter of his life. I wonder what, if anything, he knew of the little town in faraway, sunny Sicily? He was a well-read man, so it is possible that he knew something....

I now have to confess that I made this trip the lazy way. It would not be possible to get to Bronte and back in a day using public transport, so I hired a car and a driver. This is not a particularly cheap thing to do in Sicily but it was cheaper than staying in a Catania hotel overnight and, more importantly, saved me kennelling Simi for a night. ["And I should think so, too!" she is saying as she sits beside me, waiting for her walk.] This, again, is something the Sicilians need to sort out: no one will use Modica or anywhere else as a base if they can't get around. Not everyone wants to hire a car, as even if you are used to driving in Italy, to do so here is, at the very least, challenging! The best thing that towns of Modica's size could do to encourage tourism would be to organise escorted trips to places of interest such as Bronte.

But let us return to our hero. Nelson, me old hearty, I've always thought you looked terribly lonely all the way up there on that column. So next time I'm in London, I'll sit in the National Gallery's restaurant, gaze across at you and tell you all about your Duchy of Bronte today. How's that?

More photos - and more, and more - in a minute!

Here are links to the other posts about this visit:

On the Nelson trail - 2
On the Nelson trail - 3
On the Nelson trail - 4
On the Nelson trail - 5
On the Nelson trail - 6
On the Nelson trail - 7


I hope you enjoy them.

SICILY SCENE REVISITED - THE SIMI POSTS

Continuing my look back at significant posts in the run-up to this blog's tenth "blogversary", I cannot leave out the person - for to me she was, and remains, a person - who accompanied me to Sicily and sustained me until her death in 2015.  Regular readers will know that I am referring to my darling dog Simi, who often took over the blog and got more comments than I did!

Here are three of her best:

What the savvy dog is wearing - 14th January 2009




Hi, folks. Simi here!

I bet you’ve been wondering where I was! Well, I’ve been very busy trying to keep my mummy under control and for two days I’ve had to bark all the way through a hurricane! And mummy’s always on the computer so a dog can hardly get a paw in edgewise on the keyboard these days.

But I knew you’d all want to see my new toy, which I got for Christmas. It’s called Mr Bally-squeak. [My mummy says I mustn’t put those two words together the other way round. I can’t imagine why – it must be just one of those human things I can’t understand again.] I also got this rather slinky top for my birthday. I had to wait for it as mummy ordered it especially from my friend Mr Enzo’s shop. She says I’m a BIG girl now I’m 10 and that BIG girls who mean business wear black! [She must be right because when I stroll saucily down the road in it I stop that old poodle in his tracks.] Ever since the top arrived mummy’s been chasing me around the house trying to persuade me to pose in it. This morning I decided to humour her and I lay on the bed so that you could all see the pretty heart. Don’t I look a sassy girl? Mummy said it was like trying to photograph Princess Diana so then I posed with my Diana eyes. “That’s enough of that – I’m off!” I said when she’d taken that one. My new auntie, la zia Rosa, was cleaning the shower by then so I had to go and help by getting under it and jumping up at her. I like la zia Rosa because she calls me “amore” and tells mummy I am “troppo intelligente” [which is true, of course!]

Well, ciao for now, fans. I hope you get all the doggie-chews you can eat this year!

Love from

Simi xx woof!

A Ferragosto message from Simi - 15th August 2011

Hi, folks.  It's Simi here!

That Queen lady who is mummy to all those corgis is not the only one to post messages at holiday time, you know!

Well, I'll bet you've all been wondering how I cope with the heat in August:  it's not a problem really, as I've had my second summer haircut and my mummy bought me this hat.  That ole black poodle down the road is swooning away!  

My mummy says it's not a holiday today in all of your countries and that it isn't one in Wales, where we used to live.  I can't remember because every day's a holiday for me - hee- hee!

Wherever you are, fans, I hope you've had a very woofy and waggy ferragosto!

Love from

Simi xxxx woof!

Look who's writing! - 19th December 2012

And my birthdoggieday and Christmas presie combined - well, she says they're combined but I'm sure I'll get some more doggie treats - is this lovely, warm raincoat with a hood. Isn't it the Pekingese knees? 

This is my "strut the dogwalk" pose

and you have to admire the back view, fans!

As usual, that ole black poodle down the road is a-whining and a-pining for me, hee-hee!

Hope you're all being good so that Santa Paws will bring you lots of chewies!

See you soon.

Love,

Simi xxxx woof!


I'll always miss you, my precious Simi.  Thank you for giving us all such a lot of fun on the blog.

MEMORIES OF SIMI

Memories of Simi - Kizoa Online Movie Maker

My lovely little girl, it is only now, a year after your death, that I have been able to bring myself to go through your photos and I have not cried too much, for the memories are happy ones.  I'll try to remember you running up the lawn with your tuggy toy in Cardiff, lying contentedly in my arms on the journey from Catania to Modica after the great adventure of our flight to Sicily and, most of all, your "night game" of bounding towards me from the hallway to the bedroom with tuggy, not realising I could see your reflection in the glass balcony doors.  Some nights, even now, I look for you in the glass and I see you, darling, I see you.  And I see you when I'm out with Bertie-Pierrine, whom I'm sure you sent. Sometimes I say, "Walk with us, Simi" and you do.

We buried you near the sea, with tuggy toy.  There the waves that will one day reunite us lull your sleep.  Thank you again for all the love.

SICILY SCENE'S REVIEW OF 2015

The year that has just ended began, for me, in the worst possible way, with the loss of my darling Simi on January 8th. In the days and weeks that followed, there were several points when I thought I was going to go as well and of course, these days coming up to the anniversary of her death are also difficult.

But in February my Bertie-Pierrine, whom I love not as a substitute but in her own right, bounded into my life and we saved each other:

Other highlights of the year were visiting my new-found sister in Norwich, seeing Charles Aznavour live in concert in London and revisiting Cardiff, all of which I've written about here .

Elm Hill, Norwich, UK

It was also the year which marked the tenth anniversary of my move to Sicily and you can read about that here.

I was surprised, checking my blog stats tonight, to find that my most read blog post of 2015 was this Sabato Musicale  - I must have a lot of readers who are Annalisa fans and very welcome they are! The second most read post was the one I have linked to above about Simi's death.

My recipe of the year. among those I've created myself, is my Brit-Indian-Sicilian Shepherd's Pie:

I don't have a gadget of the year but I do have new [to me] uses for two old ones!  Both Mary Berry and Nigella suggest peeling ginger with a teaspoon in their latest books and I would like to thank them. It seems so obvious but I had never thought of it. Nigella recommends a microplane grater for grating citrus zest into dishes. I've had one for years but never realised how easy that would be!

My book of the year in English is The Dust That Falls from Dreams by Louis de Bernières and my book of the year in Italian is Giuseppino by Joe Bastianich.

Instead of the Italian logic prize this time, I am awarding an Italian scandal of scandals prize and it goes to the TV advert that horrified the nation in January because - are you ready? - it showed a MasterChef winner adding a stock cube to her caponata!  I am pleased to be able to report that this ability to be more scandalised by the use of stock cubes than by all the worst excesses of Italian politicians is alive and well, as a hapless would-be MasterChef Italia 5 contestant found out a week or so ago.  "Ci hai messo del dado?"- "You put a stock cube in?!" exclaimed a horrified Joe Bastianich and the ice-cold eyes of Chef Carlo Cracco turned icier than ever.

It was yet another sad year for migrants and tragedies have continued to happen, not only in the Mediterranean but on the land routes too. Italy's European partners continue to fail her and, consequently, all who are in need of a safe haven. You can find links to all my migration posts here.

My hopes for 2016 are a safe corridor for migrants and an end to migration tragedies. As always, I hope for peace and health for those I love and for all of you, wherever you are.

Happy New Year and thank you for reading Sicily Scene!

Buon anno e grazie di aver letto la Sicily Scene!

TEN YEARS IN SICILY

Today is the festa della Repubblica in Italy and the tenth anniversary of my arrival here to settle so I am re-posting the account of that day that I published on this blog in 2006. I have added some reflections at the end:

Friday, June 02, 2006

L'ANNIVERSARIO DELL'ARRIVO!

Diary extract from 3.6.05
Modica, Sicily, Italy - at last!

Events of Thursday, 2.6.05:
Couldn’t bring myself to have a last ( for some time) cooked breakfast as I was feeling all churned up. Stuck with the fruit and toast (outrageously priced, by the way).

Got the 10 am courtesy bus as planned, and Martha [my friend and neighbour, who had surprised me a few days before by announcing she was coming to Gatwick to see me off, making her own way there] was waiting for me just inside the terminal.

I had posted a few things – non-urgent documents plus the books and little things I’d bought in London – to myself c/o Linda, so I did manage to get most things in the case and therefore didn’t have to check in my in-flight bag. They marked the case “heavy” but I didn’t have to pay any excess as the flight was not full. I asked about Simi at check-in and they said I should enquire at the gate. I had phoned Airpets earlier and she had been sent to the airport and was OK according to them. [Incidentally I think it’s terrible that you can’t have your pet with you in-flight, even in the carrier ; I wouldn't mind paying for two seats! After all, no one puts babies in the cargo area! But vets would say that it is less stressful for the animal to be in that darkened section of the plane; just more stressful for the owner!]

Then Martha and I went off and had (very early!) gin and tonic and crisps in the pub there. It was so good of her to come. The flight was boarding at 12.35 so I went through at 12. Martha told me not to look back so I didn’t.

Got a bottle of water for Simi as I thought I mightn’t be able to leave the taxi driver to get one at Catania and, anyway, might have to go upstairs for it which would have taken ages.

The gate number came up a bit late and when I got there I immediately asked about Simi. The gate staff told me to sit near them and they would check. But I had to wait till all the other passengers had checked in at the gate! The gate staff can’t see that you are anxious about your pet! Eventually a ground crew man came along and I asked him if he could help me. He knew all about Simi and said he had just given her water. He took me to the window to see her crate being loaded. Oh, my darling! Such a little crate it looked from up there, carrying all that I hold dear in it! I nearly cried. Simi’s mummy was still not satisfied, however, so I sat back by the gate ladies and asked them to double-check that she had been loaded safely. Then the co-pilot came along and he said she was a bit nervous – my poor love! – but had water and would be fine. A kind Scottish woman was waiting to board and she said she empathised as she had once flown a Westie from Scotland to London; not so far, but she knew how I felt!

Once on the plane, I spoke to the captain, who was standing at the front talking to the co-pilot and another male crew member. They were very kind and said Simi would be just under where we were standing. I felt better, knowing exactly where she was. (If you are reading this and are not a “pet person” – or maybe you have never lived alone with an animal – you probably think I am mad; but to me Simi is like my child, you see.) But every time there was turbulence, I thought, “Oh! My sweetie!” and tried to tell her telepathically that her mummy was near.

After a passable meal for an airline – a bit of pork escalope, I think it was – I was so tired that I slept most of the rest of the way. As we came into Catania, I did not see Etna this time, but felt the familiar surge of emotion as we touched down on the soil of this most beloved land.

I spoke to the captain again as I got off and he assured me that Simi was being unloaded. (Another of my fears was that they would forget and take her on to Malta!) I bet they were glad to see the back of this anxious woman who only cared about her dog!

For once the luggage came out quite quickly and also, for once, mine was not the last case to appear!

Then the taxi man was there with a card with my name on it; he looked relieved that I spoke Italian and he knew about the dog. He said he would take me to the Scalo Merci [where I had been told to collect Simi] in the car as it was a fair way from the terminal – and thank goodness he did as it would have been at least a 30-minute walk – and there a woman took my details and subsequently took ages to enter everything into a computer. I was getting worried and started to pray silently; the driver sensed it and asked if there was a problem. “Oh, no”, said the woman, “it’s just that I have to calculate the charge.” (I had been told that there would probably be a local charge.) I explained to her that this dog really was my family and she smiled and speeded up a little. I was thinking, “This is going to cost hundreds” – and I wouldn’t have cared if it had – when suddenly she finished and announced, “Two euros twenty”!! So that was the local tax to bring my precious Simi into Sicily!

Finally they brought Simi out, in her crate on the back of a truck, and she looked so worried! Her fur always turns just the slightest shade darker when she is unwell or stressed – probably only I would notice it. But as soon as she saw me and smelt my finger through the cage she wagged her tail and was normal. I asked the driver if I could have her in my arms in the back and he said that was fine; then I had the cage open, Simi was in my arms and I was kissing her and telling her, “Sono la mamma, Simi. Siamo in Italia. Siamo in Sicilia.” The driver laughed and asked if she spoke Italian so I said of course! Then I put her on the lead and she was raring to go again! I had the water for her but she didn’t want it. She just sat in my arms, occasionally sleeping and occasionally looking out of the window. Cara Simi!

The taxi man was so nice and kind and we chatted. He was from Siracusa and had visited London several times. He offered to stop for Simi but she was OK and we pressed on. I spoke to Linda on the mobile and she said she would come and meet us once we were over the second bridge. (There are two bridges to lead you into Modica, one of which is among the highest in Europe.) So I called her again then and we stopped outside Bar Fuscia to wait for her. I got out with Simi to let her stretch her legs and much interest she caused among the local dogs! Then Linda and Franco arrived and we followed their car in the taxi.

At Linda's I gave the driver a good tip and she gave him a drink. Then he was on his way, happy with his evening’s work and his tip. Franco took a delighted Simi for a run round the garden on her lead. We all sat outside for a g and t and Linda presented me with a lovely basket full of food, coffee, tea, mineral water – and a bottle of gin and one of tonic! There was also a home-made photo collage of Modica with benvenuta written on it - I am going to frame it – and a bunch of beautiful roses from their garden. After about 30 minutes, Marco, Giovanna and children arrived and we all travelled in procession to the casetta.

Marco and Giovanna had also brought food so I am well supplied. I have:

Linda's Modican pizza
Oregano
Sun-dried tomatoes
Lettuce
Fresh tomatoes
Eggs
Fruit from the various gardens
Oil, vinegar, salt
Sugar
Coffee and tea
Mineral water
Biscuits
Pasta
Tomato sauce
Bread
Cheese
Butter
Franco's home-dried figs
Capers
Almond milk

So much kindness!

Simi was a bit nervous when we got here; I think she thought I was going to hand her over to these [to her] strangers! But once they had gone and we were together she relaxed.

The casetta is of stone and is in the old town. It’s a bit cave-like downstairs. It has a shower downstairs, a rather rickety but functioning fridge, a sink in the kitchen area and one in the tiny bathroom, a table and two benches, an old easy chair and a very small unit with a marble top. Upstairs is lighter with the bed and a wardrobe, plus a shelf that I am using now for the laptop and some others that I am using for cosmetics. The stone, twisty stairs are banister-less and so a bit treacherous but Simi soon got used to them! And the house is blessedly cool. Oh! I forgot to say that there’s a gas burner powered by a bombola of gas: I am afraid of it but Linda says it’s a rite of passage, for everyone starts off with one of these here! I’ll have a go at cooking on it tomorrow.

After everyone had gone, Simi and I went to bed and slept well, despite the noise of the mad motorini till at least midnight!

Epilogue:

Simi and I spent five weeks together in the casetta [little house, which belonged to my friends Marco and Giovanna] in the old town and she was my stability then as she was in the ensuing years. I never did get to grips with the gas bombola [cylinder] and was so scared of it that I gave up after about a week and ate out or existed on cold food, which is no hardship in Italy. Then we moved to the apartment where I still live.

About three months after our arrival, I received in the post a receipt for the €2,20 tax I had had to pay at the airport to bring Simi into Sicily. On it she is described as "goods":

Reflections in 2015

In ten years in Sicily, I have known much joy, great kindness, some cruelty, serious illness and several crushing blows, the hardest of which was the loss of Simi on January 8th this year. On the morning of her death, I found it very difficult to be driven to Linda's house again, clutching her little body. This was because Linda and Franco wanted to join us for the burial. I kept remembering arriving there that evening, ready for adventure, when Simi was still a young dog and I was a much younger and more naive woman.

The Italy I live in now is not the Italy I fell in love with as a student back in 1969, nor is the Sicily of today the Sicily that so enchanted me on my first visit in 1992. The economic crisis has taken its toll, here as elsewhere, leaving a trail of heartbreak and turning reasonable people into unreasonable beings. I would say that, for an expat woman of a certain age who is unprotected by family, money or perhaps by working for an international company, it can be a harsh environment - and I write this as an Italian graduate and as someone who has studied and loved Italian culture all her life. But would I go back? If Italy is not the Italy I once knew, Britain is not the country I left. There is still much to enjoy about living in Italy and I have a feeling that long after me, the crisis and the EU, when Italy's remaining ancient buildings have all but crumbled around the populace - but they won't, you know, for they will save them just in time - Italians will still be showing the rest of the world how to eat, how to create beauty and how to live.

Simi's pet passport photo - my favourite picture of her.

SABATO MUSICALE FOR ST DAVID'S DAY

Tomorrow is St David's Day and I am posting my Dad's favourite Welsh song.  This year, as I listen to it, I am also, of course, thinking of my little Simi. This does not detract at all from my love for Bertie-Pierrine and I know I am very lucky to be spending St David's Day with her. 

HAPPY ST DAVID'S DAY, EVERYONE!

Bryn Terfel - Ar Hyd y Nos

FALLING IN LOVE AGAIN

It is no secret that the last four weeks have been among the worst in my life but yesterday evening along came a rescue dog called Bertie-Pierre and it is no exaggeration to say that he is rescuing me. Here he is!

It didn't take him long to discover the joys of the sofa

and now he has his first toy:

This morning we made a start on his wardrobe:

I have named him Bertie-Pierre after Bertie in the Alexander McCall Smith 44 Scotland Street novels. It is the name Bertie's French friends give him when he runs away to France.

My little Simi will always be in my heart and I am sure it is with her blessing that Bertie-Pierre has come to me.

SABATO MUSICALE

Always a favourite of mine and it came into my mind today in my silent house:

Andrea Bocelli - La Voce del Silenzio

SABATO MUSICALE

This was, I think, the first piece of classical music that I ever listened to intently and I thank the teacher who made me love it - when I was five years old. I think you all know why the following words are in my mind at the moment:

"Che farò? Dove andrò?
Che farò senza il mio ben?"

Kathleen Ferrier - Che farò senza Euridice?

A FAVOURITE BARD

Sunday, of course, is Burns Night and at London Town, Modica students can pick a Burns quotation and enjoy a shortbread biscuit. [No, I didn't make them this time - they come courtesy of Lidl Italia.]

Liz just asked me, on facebook, if I was serving haggis as well and I had to admit that I lack the courage to explain haggis to Italians!

Burns is one of my favourite poets and I tend to turn to him in bad times, such as this.  When I think of where my little Simi is I remember,

"Behold my love, how green the groves."

["My Chloris, mark how green the groves" in some versions.]

And sometimes I want to go and lie down on the earth that covers her until I go too.

A Burns line that sustains me is,

"I bear a heart shall support me still."

I hope I do, but it's hard!

SABATO MUSICALE

A song from a Welshman and it's for my Simi. And yes, dogs do speak and they do smile:

Rhydian - To Where You Are

BEAUTIFUL BABY

Thank you, darling, for all the love in the world.

Sleep well and wait for me - I'll be along by and by.

xxx

FASHION ICON

Hello, folks.

It's Simi here!

The duffle coat's back, you know, and this time round it's très chic - like me!  My mummy got me this one for my doggie-Xmas-cum-birthdoggieday present.  You should have seen the effect it had on that ole black poodle when he saw me in it!

Hope you all had a very Merry Xmas too, fans, with lots of chewey sticks. I did!

Be good - also like me - and Happy New Year!

Love,

Simi xx

DREAMING OF SANTA PAWS