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!

SUMMER STYLE

Hi, folks.

It's Simi here!

I've just had my summer haircut and I'm driving the Italian dogs wild - especially that ole black poodle!

But I couldn't spend all day parading up and down for them. I had serious things to do!

My mummy has gone all curly-wurly. What do you think?

I think she looks almost as cool as me!

Well, see you soon, fans.  Be good and have a waggie summer!

Love,

Simi xx woof!

BIRTHDAY GIRL

Hi, folks. It's Simi here!

I'm a big girl of 15 today but my mummy keeps telling me I've got more energy than she has!

Today I can do exactly what I like, I get lots of treaties and I can get away with any doggone thing so I'm gonna bark at that ole black poodle down the road and scare a couple of Rottweilers while I'm at it!

Hope you're all having lots of waggies and woofies today too and soon it will be time for Santa Paws to come!

See you at Christmas, fans  - be good!

Love,

Simi xxxx woof!

WHAT ABOUT DOGPOWER?

Simi says: "Thank goodness for that! Now that you've all decided who is going to get those Blogpower Bonio biscuits, perhaps a doggie-girl can get some attention round here? What do you think, Harvey?"

WILL THIS DO THE TRICK?

I have never seen a branch of citronella before though I have used candles and other products containing the oil as insect repellents [something which might, according to this article, be illegal in the EU now]. A friend brought this branch around this morning in the hope that it might help Simi and me with a problem we have:

Simi is a wonderful, good dog and she only usually barks when someone rings the doorbell [which she is supposed to] and in excitement when we are ready to go out. However, about 9 weeks ago, some puppies were born in the house opposite. These puppies live in an outdoor run. [A lot of people keep their dogs outside the whole time here and have no concept of a dog as a member of the family in the way that Simi is.] As puppies do, they yap and this sometimes starts at 5 am. Simi gets up and has a little bark at them and I get up with her to try and distract her from barking as I am terrified of disturbing my immediate neighbours. [I am not, as some of you will know, exactly a morning person, so this makes me very grumpy indeed!] She does sort of know that she should not bark at that time of morning and has begun shaking one of her toys in the pups' direction instead but that makes noise, too! [She takes no notice whatsoever when the older dogs bark, or of other outdoor sounds; it is just the high-pitched yapping.] Anyway, I read on the internet that you can get citronella "anti-bark" collars; these apparently emit a harmless spray of the substance when the dog barks and they don't like the smell. But is it, I wonder the "surprise" element of the spray that does it? I have tried spraying perfume around when Simi barks and sometimes that works [though it's a bit of an extravagant use of a bottle of "Paris"!] When I told my friend about this, she offered to bring some citronella from her garden. So you may imagine me at 5 am tomorrow, stress levels high as the sky, reader, waving the branch under Simi's nose in the hope that it will effect a miracle and restore our peace. I wonder what eurodog thinks?

SICILIAN SATURDAY

That's the name my friend Lee gave to yesterday, the second anniversary of my arrival, with dog Simi, in Sicily. I've written at length about that day here but when I think of it now two memories are uppermost in my mind: stepping off the plane and the heat hittting me and being reunited with precious Simi when they wheeled her out of the Scalo Merci in her little pet carrier. And I smile when I think back to the enormous supply of food my Sicilian friends ensured I had for my stay in the "little house".

Simi and I spent yesterday very quietly and actually I got all pensive and melancholy for at times one is bound to remember what was left behind, too. But I cheered up in the evening after I decided to cook myself these "citrus chicken wings", a recipe from a Prue Leith leaflet I picked up long ago. It's a dish I have cooked several times for friends here and it goes down well with them. The wings are marinated in wine, honey, citrus peel and juice, cinnamon, ginger and seasonings. I add some garam masala. I like to serve it with tabbouleh [for which I have to use couscous, no bulghar wheat being available here].

MY MOVING TALES

My new friend eurodog has expressed an interest in the story of how I brought Simi here. It occurred to me that other readers who have not been following the blog from the beginning might be interested, too, especially if they are pet owners and / or are thinking of moving abroad themselves. I chronicled it all last May and June in the weeks leading up to the first anniversary of our arrival here. I didn't have many [any!] readers then and wasn't getting any comments. Here are the links:

http://sicilyscene.blogspot.com/2006/05/moving-story-2.html

http://sicilyscene.blogspot.com/2006/05/moving-story-3.html

http://sicilyscene.blogspot.com/2006/05/moving-story-4.html

http://sicilyscene.blogspot.com/2006/06/lanniversario-dellarrivo.html

http://sicilyscene.blogspot.com/2006/06/note-on-flying-simi.html

UPDATE: The words of Robert Browning to which I refer in the first instalment are:

Open my hear and you will see

Graved inside of it, "Italy."

Such lovers old are I and she;

So it always was, so shall ever be!

- From "De Gustibus-"

LOOK WHO'S BEEN TO THE HAIRDRESSER'S!

Simi has had the first of her summer haircuts today and is very pleased with herself. She got lots of treats afterwards for having proved herself to be "educata" [well brought-up] at the doggie grooming parlour!

PICCOLINO

The Italians, I have found, are not all that original when it comes to naming their dogs, who are always referred to collectively as Fido in the press in stories such as the "Prozac for Dogs" one so brilliantly lampooned by As a Dodo recently. When I was down in the little house in Modica Bassa, the old gentlemen who would sit on the wall to chat to each other were quite convinced that all British dogs are called Bobby and nothing would change their minds, even though I told them that Simone is a Simone and a "she"! "'Elo, Bobby, 'ow are you?" they would ask each morning, proudly showing off their English. There was a delightful little puppy with his elderly owner in the petshop down there this morning. Now, you have to understand, reader , that I go soppy over dogs in the way that other women do over babies, so after I had "Ahed" , cooed to and petted this newcomer, I asked his owner, "E come si chiama questo piccolino?" ["What's this little one's name?"] I should have guessed it: "Piccolino", he replied, looking at me as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Children usually make a fuss of Simone - "Guarda il bel cagnolino!" ["Look at the beautiful doggie!"] they cry - and she is incredibly gentle and good around them. But this morning, as we were on our walk, a brat in a buggy pointed and shouted , "Un cane - brutto!" ["A dog - it's ugly!"] I quickly covered Simi's ears [her Italian being quite good now] and smiled indulgently whilst forcing myself not to risk a lynching by retorting, "Well, actually, I think you're a horrible, ugly child with no aesthetic judgement" . How can his parents allow him to speak ill of a dog? If the creature wants to go through life insulting his peers, so be it. But dogs?!!

MEDITERRANEAN GIRLS

Today is the Liberation Day holiday and Simi and I have been for a stroll along the promenade at Sampieri. I thought you'd like to see what the Med looked like this morning.

HICKORY, DICKORY, DOG

[1] This is a toy clock which I use to teach students how to say the time in English.

[2] and [3] This is Simone ignoring it. Ever since we switched to European Summer Time this year her own little doggie body clock has been out of sync and she wants each walk an hour early. So for the past few days I have been moving the hands on the clock and repeating to her:

[a.m.] "Now, this is seven o'clock and this is eight o'clock. Seven o'clock - naughty girl. Eight o'clock - good girl. We don't go out at seven o'clock - no. We go out at eight o'clock - yes."

[p.m] - A similar conversation, but substituting the times four o'clock and five o'clock, then seven-thirty and eight- thirty.

- Could it be that I have finally flipped, reader?

Simone says:

"Hi, everybody! I just read this. A toy clock and an ESL lesson, indeed! As if a doggie-girl hasn't had enough to do learning Italian. I know perfectly well when it's walkies time and I don't need a toy clock or any other kind to tell me. Buona domenica a tutti!"