IT'S BEEN A WHILE...

Yes, it's been a long and involuntary hiatus, for reasons which I'll explain further down the post because I'd like to start by mentioning last Sunday's International Women's Day, La Giornata della Donna. Susanna Duffy in Melbourne invited me to speak on her very interesting radio programme Left After Breakfast on Melbourne 3CR radio and this is what I said:

"It's 9 a.m. in beautiful, Baroque Modica and in a few minutes I'm going to a nearby bar where I know there'll be bright yellow mimosa-inspired cakes because the mimosa blossom is the symbol of International Women's Day – la Giornata Internazionale della Donna – in Italy.

This was the idea of Teresa Mattei, a World War 2 partisan and one of the Mothers of the Italian Constitution – that is, she was a member of the Assemblea Costituente which drew up the Constitution after the war. She thought that mimosa would be a great symbol of International Women's Day for the simple reason that the flowers are in season here in early March and can be obtained easily at little or no cost. Little bouquets of them are being sold right now in the streets and people do buy them for the women in their lives. It's quite a joyous day here with free entry for women to all State cultural sites.

Teresa Mattei died in 2013 at the age of 92. The mimosa blooms for you today, Teresita, as it does for all women.

Buona Giornata della Donna - Happy International Women's Day."

Mimosa-inspired cheesecake

at the Cicara Caffeteria, Modica.

But what had I been up to in the months before that? Not much, really as in November I underwent knee replacement surgery. I spent five weeks in hospital, where I must say the physiotherapy was wonderful but the worst part was being away from my dog Bertie-Pierrine. She was well looked after in kennels and they were kind enough to send me photos every day but I missed her so much!

One day the doctors said I could have a visit from her, provided it was outside and not for long. I got better pretty quickly after that!

And then, two days before Christmas we both came home and it was fantastic!

I'll leave you with a true story of something that happened in the hospital - it might make you smile:

Battle of the Bra

This morning a kindly male nurse is preparing me for physio. All is going reasonably well until we come to the matter of my bra, which, not being a queen who has a dresser at her command, I put on in my usual way, back to front to do up the fasteners, with the intention of then turning it around. 

"No!" says he, trying to pull my bra from my hands. "It's the wrong way round!"

"I know", say I.

"But how are you going to wear it like that?" he asks, still trying to wrench it from me.

(My dignity you have taken; my bra you shall never have.)

"Like this", I reply, deftly sliding the garment into its correct position and manoeuvring my tits into it.

Scratching his head, the nurse looks at me as an Egyptian might have looked at Moses when God parted the Red Sea. (I am left in great puzzlement as to this man's home life. Does his wife never do up her own bra?)

Then we moved on to the socks...

BEHOLD, THE FERRAGOSTO BUNNIES!

I'm not a "Rise and shine, sing in the morning" type of person. I'm more, "Light, go away!" first thing. Nor do I normally gaze out at the view from my bedroom window at that time of day, as it's all I can do to open the shutters and stumble to the bathroom. But yesterday, perhaps because it was the Ferragosto holday, I did and - still being a bit dopey, you will understand - I thought there were some whacking great bunnies coming to greet me! It was only the shape of the fichi d'India (prickly pear) bush in the field out there, but it cheered me up:

Ferragosto, or the Feast of the Assumption, is when Italy virtually closes down and everybody except grumpy old me heads to the sea. For the past two years, during which we have been in and out of various lockdowns, my local bar closed only for the 15th, not for a week, as before, presumably to try and recuperate some of the takings lost during the Covid emergency but this time they have closed for the full week again. There is a quiet in the streets reminiscent of the lockdowns but happily that backdrop of fear in the air is absent and today I had an aperitivo and a plate of stuzzichini in another local bar with a friend, which helped dispel the memory of those grim times.

In the absence of a celebratory breakfast out yesterday morning, I made myself a granita all'anguria (watermelon granita) and very refreshing it was, too. I had bought a traditional Sicilian brioche for the occasion and Bertie the dog enjoyed a doggie gelato.

I hope you all had a good Ferragosto and look after those August bunnies if they come to visit!

CAKE, GELATO AND SAINTS

My birthday on Monday (St Valentine's Day) prompted a trip to Catania with a friend on Saturday, and also led to much thought, principally about how, with a bit of luck, you feel reasonably strong and energetic for quite a long time in your life and then suddenly you are seventy-two and everything takes much more effort than it used to. You also have to start admitting that there are some things you can't do any more and for me these include standing for long periods, standing on ladders or chairs (balance problems) and chopping an onion as if I was on Masterchef. However, being here is better than the alternative, as they say, and, as we have all led such restricted lives due to Covid over the past two years, I was very happy to go to Catania in December for the first time since my birthday in 2020 and again last Saturday when a friend offered to buy me lunch there. It was a lovely, sunny day, warm enough to eat outside and watch the world go by, and this semifreddo agli agrumi di Sicilia rounded off a delicious meal:

The atmosphere in Catania was happy, for, although the processions which would normally take place for the feast of the city's patron Sant'Agata had again been cancelled due to Covid, masses were taking place for her in the cathedral and everyone seemed to be still feeling festive. Sant'Agata's feast day is 8th February but processions are held on the 12th, the ottavo or eighth day after her feast. This brave lady was jailed for refusing to sacrifice to the Roman gods and / or because she refused the advances of the Roman prefect. In prison she underwent several forms of torture, including having her breasts pulled out with pincers and being forced to walk on broken glass and hot coals. Unsurprisingly seriously ill after these ordeals, she is said to have been healed by St Peter, who appeared to her. She was sentenced to be burnt at the stake but an earthquake prevented the sentence from being carried out. Sant'Agata died in prison, probably in AD 251. She is the protector of people suffering from breast cancer, wet nurses, bell-founders and bakers among others and is thought to be able to protect the city from the eruptions of Etna. Therefore, you will understand, she is a most beloved saint.

"Got the fridge magnet"

After lunch and a pleasant stroll along Catania's wide main shopping street, via Etnea, we decided to find the new gelateria opened there by Don Peppinu. This company make the most delicious ice cream and their efficient and cheerful delivery service saved me when the first lockdown continued into April 2020 and I was gasping for gelato. I will be forever grateful to them and, also in lockdown, I ordered one of their cannoli kits to gladden a lonely weekend. The Catania shop is beautiful and Don Peppinu has lots of new and unusual ice cream flavours so, if you're ever in the city, do pay a visit.

On Monday I treated myself to another birthday lunch in my local bar, the Cicara Caffeteria, and when I ordered a slice of their strawberry tart - because you have to have cake on your birthday - it came with a candle, which made me happy.

Then I went home to be with my dog, read and reflect on other birthdays: the seven-shaped cake my dad ordered, obviously, for my seventh, the romantic, padded birthday and Valentine cards I used to receive from my first love back in Bristol, the disappointing birthday when an emotionally unavailable man gave me a gift the day before but didn't want to spend the actual day with me and was totally unaware of how much that hurt, and of how the postman in Cardiff used to think I had many lovers because I always received lots of cards on Valentine's Day. I never disillusioned him. Then of course there were the other milestone birthdays I've celebrated in Modica - my fifty-fifth before I came to live here, my sixtieth when I decorated my house with images and record covers from the 1950s and 60s and my seventieth, also in my local bar, two evenings before the fourteenth and twenty-nine days before the beginning of Italy's first national lockdown. I look at the photos of that night and think, "What if we had known?"

Modica, 1995 - my 55th; Modica, 2020 - cake for my 70th; 
me on my 70th; 2022 - Cicara Bar, Modica

But in the month of love let us end with love: Valentine's Day, of course, is much commercialised but I think the saint - associated with love either because he signed a letter to his jailer's daughter "from your Valentine" or because he secretly married Roman couples who were in love, so that the husband could not be conscripted - has left us something precious if it causes us to remember, and be grateful for, all the love we have in its many forms. I go home, I look at my dog and I realise I have all the love in the world, right here.

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!

NON SE NE PUÒ PIÙ

 "It's been too long", wrote a kind reader of this blog in a message to me last month and it's true - it has been over a year since I last posted here. The reason? The pandemic, mostly. I did not bake bread every day, though I continued to cook, I did not follow an exciting exercise régime online and, though I kept in touch with friends, I did not spend hours on Zoom or Skype. I spent most of my time scrolling through the news, hoping, day after day, to see a hopeful headline and, as you will all know, it was months before one appeared. Yes, last summer in Italy we felt that we could breathe and life returned, for a while, to something resembling normality but the respite was short-lived.  

Then came the autumn and we found ourselves in lockdown after lockdown, all over again. None of these was as strict, or felt as oppressive, as that first long lockdown that began in March 2020, but the restrictions and the uncertainty from week to week and even from day to day began to get everybody down. Italy was again divided into zones, with red zones having the most restrictions, orange ones some and yellow zones fewer, with the white zone, the one we all long for, seeming impossibly far away. 

Non se ne può più - "We can't stand it any more" was the sentence I heard everywhere from Easter onwards and indeed I do not think we could have. Sicily at last became a yellow zone last week, which means that bars and restaurants can open in their outside space and the hated curfew has been moved to 11pm. It had been so sad, in recent months, to pass my local bar and see no one sitting on its terrace and to witness the accompanying silence of what is, in normal times, a joyful and welcoming place. That is why it has been such a pleasure, this week, to be able to enjoy a gelato and an aperitivo there again.

I don't think it is understood by government that small local bars can be much more than places of refreshment: For many people who live alone, they are a point of social contact and I know that if I did not appear at mine for a coffee in the morning, they would worry about me and there would be a good chance of someone quickly coming to find me if I fell, or worse, at home. It makes me feel generally safer.

My dog, who has kept me going and provided the affection and cuddles I have so missed over the past fifteen months, is happy to be patted and spoken to on our walks again and she, like me, senses that the heaviness in the atmosphere has lifted.  

"I'm under here, mummy!"

I am pleased and grateful to be able to say that I have received my first vaccine. I know that this alone will not guarantee my safety but compared to how I felt a year ago, it has made a tremendous difference. You will all know the story of how, at the beginning of this year, Italy seemed to be doing very well and was even ahead of some other countries in its vaccination plan. Then it all fell apart when the promised quantities of doses from more than one company did not arrive in the EU as expected, for reasons that are not yet clear. I think many of us became very frightened again then and it was a bleak time. But the country has made great progress following this setback, not without difficulty, frustration and tears, and it seems to me that most of us feel very cautiously optimistic.

Anything that disrupts our routines, the things we take for granted, is hugely stressful and it is usually not  until it happens that we realise this. But it is not only routine that punctuates our lives -  collective celebrations or, sadly, mourning, festivals, public anniversaries and other events also play their part and of course they are missed. Almost every year since I have lived in Sicily (sixteen years on June 2nd, Republic Day) I have attended the lovely Infiorata in Noto to see the "carpet of flowers" which is always on show during the third weekend of May. As I've written here before, such events take place in several parts of Italy and in other Catholic countries and the most likely reason for their origin is simply a desire to create something beautiful for God. And I'm sure that God, like the rest of us, could do with gazing upon some beauty in this situation. Last year the carpet was created but only shown online and this solution had to be repeated this year. Its theme in 2021 was a homage to Dante and the famous words,

e quindi uscimmo a riveder le stelle - and thus we came out to see the stars again

were spelled out in flowers.

Non se ne può più has never seemed more true and the words of the father of the Italian language have expressed the hope of everyone, all over the world.

Image from Quotidiano di Ragusa

I'll try not to leave it so long between posts from now on!

DONA NOBIS PACEM - BLOG FOR PEACE 2019

It is never hard to wish for peace - peace in your personal life and peace in the world - but it is certainly hard to write about it when both your life and your country are in turmoil. The turmoil in my country of origin, Britain, is nothing like that in war-torn countries around the world but there are worrying and upsetting events there - things I never imagined happening in Britain, of all places - and I am among an estimated 1.2 million British people in EU countries who feel, to say the least, unsettled and insecure.

I am not displaced; I am not a refugee; I have faced no danger but I do know that it is hard to begin a life in a new country, even when you are there, as I am, from choice, let alone when you have endured a perilous sea crossing and have been tortured, threatened and physically assaulted along the way, only to find that you are less than welcome when you reach your longed-for destination. My heart goes out, as it always has, to all who experience such trauma.

As I have said, I have experienced none of those things but events in my own country have led me to reflect on how quickly things can change, how events which you can influence little, if at all, can destroy your sense of security and take away your sense of control over what happens to you, simply because of where you find yourself geographically at the time. There is, in my case, also a feeling of guilt. I have no way of knowing if this is shared by others in my position but sometimes I wonder whether, I were in Britain, I would be able to help change things by adding my voice physically instead of, or as well as, through posts like this or through social media. But even if the answer to that were "Yes", it would not be possible so I have to ask myself what else I can do:

When Mimi wrote that her climate change theme this year could include our inner climate, I thought about that a lot and I began to ask myself what inner peace actually is. Millions of dollars have been made by gurus who believe that they can tell you, and perhaps some of them can. I can only say what it is for me and I think I find it in appreciating and remembering moments of love because these are the moments that enable us, sometimes fleetingly, to feel safe. So I would like to share with you some of my moments of love, and therefore of safety and peace, of this year: I found inner peace in February, sitting on a park bench in Norfolk, England, with the sister I never thought I'd meet; I found it in lighting a candle for my wonderful (adoptive) parents and another for the birth mother I never knew in Norwich Cathedral's Peace Globe; making Welshcakes for people is always a pleasure and for me, their aroma is that of home and, therefore, of safety and it was a joy to be able to make them in my sister's kitchen for St David's Day this March; and I have many precious moments of love every day with my dog Bertie, who loves me when I'm happy, grumpy, distracted, focused, tearful, energetic or tired and in the latter case she nuzzles me. She's a rescue dog but I always say it was she who saved me.

I am also lucky in being able to love where I am and my spirits were lifted recently on an autumn evening walk in Noto when I witnessed again the beauty of the sunlight on the stone of the Cathedral. I always go to the Noto Infiorata (carpet of flowers) in May and this year, as part of the "Italians in North America" theme, this flower portrait of Gaetana Midolo, who emigrated from her home town of Noto, Sicily to America, only to lose her life at the age of 15 in the Triangle Shirtwaist Factory fire of 1911, made a lasting impression on me. Gaetana had had a dream of another country too, and I know what it is like to arrive somewhere full of hope and to have your dream shattered. I recovered but poor Gaetana had no chance, in old age, to cherish her moments of love.

To Gaetana, to all who dream of a better life, to all who are struggling to change their inner climate and to all who dream of peace, I dedicate this post. To the big dreamers who are out there protesting to change our world, I send my thanks and I would like to say to them that sometimes, when you are deeply in turmoil or despair, you can only do small things, such as remembering love. But sometimes that is enough.

Dona Nobis Pacem

BUON FERRAGOSTO 2019

Clockwise, left to right:
Bertie-Pierrine enjoying some special doggy gelato; interior of Duomo di San Pietro, Modica; appetisers in local bar; Sicilian puppets depicted in flowers at the Infiorata in Noto, 2019.

BUON FERRAGOSTO 2018

I wish all Italians, and all who, like me, are Italian in their hearts, a happy Ferragosto evening, wherever you are.  I am also thinking, tonight, as I'm sure you are, of those for whom this will be an unimaginably sad Ferragosto following the terrible tragedy in Genova on the eve of the holiday. Please know that our thoughts are with you.

Left to right: Tempio della Concordia, Agrigento; a somewhat pregnant pesca tabacchiera; us; Ragusa Ibla at dusk.

Oh, and I thought you'd like to see my seasonal anguria (watermelon) nails as well:

ST. DAVID'S DAY 2018

Yes, I've had a long break from blogging, for health and other reasons but I've never let a St David's Day go by without posting and I will not do so now.  So HAPPY ST DAVID'S DAY, wherever you are!

Over at London Town Modica - Centro Linguistico Internazionale we've been celebrating as usual and even the Queen popped in:

Later we decided we needed more cake:

Whatever is going on in her life, a girl needs to keep on trying, so here are my St David's Day nails and top:

Bertie-Pierrine had a St David's Day haircut and is feeling very waggy:

And finally, some St David's Day music. I love this version of The Ash Grove:

Stay happy. Stay Welsh, even if you're not and stay kind!

BUON ANNO 2018!

WAGGIES AND WHOOPEES

Well, I've had a bit of a blogging hiatus and I expect regular readers will be wondering how Bertie-Pierrine is. She's fine, thank you, but, like her mummy, she's not really keen on certain mornings:

The rest of the time, though, she's exceedingly waggy and can even do it to order:

She's an incredibly sociable dog and enjoyed herself immensely last night at the opening of my friend Tiziana's new premises for her very successful pet shop Le 4 Zampe. There were lots of both human and doggie friends there and you could hear excited barking and yapping all the way down our extremely long street! Doesn't Tiziana look glamorous?

Well done, Bertie-Pierrine for being a good girl at the party and lots of good wishes to Tiziana for her new shop.

TRUE LOVE

I just thought I'd let you all know that true love is alive and well in Sicily:

I don't know why the sea turned pink in the second photo - perhaps it knows fuschia is my favourite colour!

HERE COMES SUMMER

And here comes Bertie-Pierrine with her summer haircut! It makes you feel waggy when you're cooler.

BREKKY BREAK WITH BERTIE

Stopping for refreshment on our walk the other day, Bertie thoroughly enjoyed her little taste of a seasonal Sicilian brekky!

SOMEONE'S NEW COAT

Someone's got a new coat - and it's not me!

'EAR, 'EAR!

WHEN BERTIE MET DAISY

It was great meeting Sarah from White Almond Sicily , her husband Mike, their lovely dog Daisy and friend Teresa on Saturday.  Bertie thought so, too!

And what better to go with an aperitvo than an abundant, Modican  piatto of stuzzichini at the Cicara Caffetteria?

Daisy enjoyed the accompanying crisps and I'm sure she'll bring her mummy, daddy and friend back soon!

GELATO GIRLS

Yea - a gelato with Snickers for me and a yogurt and carrot doggie one for Bertie!  [I know you can't see Bertie's gastronomic treat as half the fun seemed to consist of pushing it around the floor but she pronounced it "cool" in all ways.]

"PLUS JE VOIS LES HOMMES...."

The other evening I was watching a jolly historical romp on TV, namely Versailles, whrn I turned round to find that Bertie-Pierrine had taken my copy of Nancy Mitford's The Sun King out of the bookshelf! You won't believe me but I kid you not. I've always known she can understand everything and now she has proved that she can read as well!

"Plus je vois les hommes, plus j'admire les chiens."

"The more I see of men, the more I admire dogs."

- Mme de Sévigné

A RIGHT ROYAL WAG

Bertie-Pierrine has been over to London Town, Modica - Centro Linguistico Internazionale to meet someone very special: