FERRAGOSTO AND THE FRIDGE THAT HATED ANGURIA

As long-term readers will know, Ferragosto (Assumption Day on 15th August and the two-week period surrounding it) is not my favourite time of year: When you are on your own, those daily encounters with the staff at your local bar, with shopkeepers or just with passers-by that you normally see, are very important and I miss them. Then there is the relentless heat, which, of course, is getting worse; for me, as for many others, it is less the intensity of the heatwave than its duration that is exhausting and the nights have brought little relief. However, the heatwave broke at the weekend - it usually does around Ferragosto - and then in Modica we found ourselves assailed by a very noisy and nasty hailstorm and even a tornado! I did not see the tornado, although it was in my area, so I first learned of it through online images: nobody was hurt, thank goodness, but some trees and road signs were down, roofs were damaged and there was certainly damage to crops. People were, as you can imagine, very frightened and the Mayor of Modica gave up her time to go and speak to them. I am sure this was appreciated.

I have my own little Ferragosto traditions, as I have for other festivals, so at home I again comforted myself with my granita all'anguria (watermelon granita) and every time I make it I think of the fridge I had that hated watermelon: This was the fridge-freezer I had brought with me from Britain in 2005 - I had only had it for a year so deemed it worth transporting - and it served me mostly well. The only problem was that it hated watermelon - it really did! At first I thought it was the weight of even a watermelon of modest size that was upsetting it but no, even when I bought ready-sliced anguria in small quantities the fridge temperature (which was displayed on the outside of the appliance) would shoot up in seconds. I swear that fridge could see, smell or otherwise sense anguria as I came through the kitchen door, even though this was long before the advent of smart fridges! 

The last straw for me with that fridge (after ten years or so of its histrionics) came on the eve of one Ferragosto when I caught my foot in the door and the nail of my big toe got detached from the nailbed. Talk about agony! I know I should have gone immediately to the Emergency Department at the hospital but I just coudn't face it and, probably consequently, my toenail has never grown back properly. Now my fridge not only had a tantrum whenever I bought anguria but it had kicked me, so it had to go. I am glad to say that the two fridges I have had since then have shown no signs of rebellion against the lovely, refreshing red fruit.

All things considered, I have had a pleasant Ferragosto at home with my dog, my books and - dare I say it? - anguria and I have not been kicked by a fridge!

A FAVOURITE FOOD FOR A FAVOURITE SAINT

Our estate di San Martino (Saint Martin's summer) has been well and truly over since Sunday and I sit here writing this on a cold, rainy afternoon. A prolonged summer is named for the saint because, according to legend, in the winter of the year 335 St Martin of Tours met a freezing, starving beggar at the gates of Amiens. He cut his cloak in two and gave half to the man and, coming across another man in a similar condition moments later, gave the other half to him. It is said that the sun came out when he gave away the second half of the cloak - hence l'estate di San Martino.

Frittelle (deep-fried pastries or doughnuts)) are traditional on St Martin's Day (11th November) not only because they are small and symbolise pieces of the cloak, but also because they contain few ingredients and centuries ago could be made by rich and poor alike. They can be fried using the new oil from the olive harvest and are often served with the vino novello which is traditionally opened on this day.

St Martin is associated with the poor and is the protector of soldiers, innkeepers, hoteliers and beggars. He died in Candes, now Candes-Saint-Martin, in 397. He is one of my favourite saints so I really wanted to find some frittelle yesterday and I did, in my local fruit shop. 

STARS IN MY EYES

Here I am, almost a week late in posting about the 73rd Sanremo Festival of Italian Song, life and a storm (of which more below) having intervened. I always enjoy Sanremo but this year's festival did not get off to the best of starts, with the singer Blanco (one half of the duo which won last year) deciding to kick around the roses and mostly destroy the set because he had problems with his headphones during his performance. The Mayor of Sanremo was appalled, as were others, and pointed out how much work and time goes into the care of such flowers and the creation of such a set. He did, very tolerantly, I thought, add that we have all been young, and then called for an apology, which was, by all reports, forthcoming. The last I read on the incident was that the singer has been banned from the festival for the next three years. For me the evening was saved by the much loved singer and co-presenter Gianni Morandi, who calmly arrived on stage with a broom and swept like a pro. Do bring your broom round to my house if you find yourself in Sicily, Gianni! There might be a Welshcake in it for you.

I missed the second night of the festival because I fell asleep and on the third night Masterchef Italia was airing on another channel and claimed my attention but the following night's "Cover Night", when the singers in the competition perform versions of other artistes' songs (with another singer of their choice if they wish), was, as always, the best night for me, with the eventual winner of the festival Marco Mengoni giving a wonderful rendition of  Let It Be with the Kingdom Choir.

The final night featured two other scandals, or maybe three if you object to uterus-shaped jewellery (worn by co-presenter Chiara Ferragni), a minor one occurring when guest star Gino Paoli inappropriately began recounting the long-ago marital indiscretions (which may or may not have happened) of the partner of another artiste of his heyday and a major one when the rapper Rosa Chemical began twerking at Fedez, seated in the front row, and then dragged the latter onto the stage and snogged him. Signora Ferragni, who happens to be married to Fedez, was said to have been not exactly happy. Neither were many viewers and official complaints quoting "obscene acts" have been presented to the Public Prosecutor of Sanremo. Hmm. I leave the last word on this incident to the Sicilian comic Fiorello who, being interviewed by mobile phone on the show, commented that the next day all the papers would be talking about the clothes and the kiss rather than the songs - and they were.

The clothes, of course, help make Sanremo the fascinating entertainment that it is but I have to admit my eyes were on - well, the eyes. As an older woman, I have been aware for several years that I should by now have thrown out any black eyeliner lurking in my makeup drawers and opted for brown or at least navy blue and I have followed this advice. But black eyeliner was certainly back in vogue at Sanremo, and lots of it, on both young and older artistes. When I was young we all slapped it on after seeing Elizabeth Taylor in Cleopatra and I remember, at around the same time, an article in a teenage magazine in which the singer Dusty Springfield recommended not taking your eyeliner off at night, but leaving it on and painting the next day's liner over it. I tried this till the substance caked so much that I couldn't open my eyes. It all continued to look great on Liz Taylor and Dusty Springfield, though!

The worthy winner of the competition as a whole was, as I have mentioned, Marco Mengoni with his song Due Vite. I'm not usually very good at predicting the winner, but this time, I managed it - a superb song and fantastic performances. And well done, Sanremo (a town I have visited and remember with affection) and Rai.

In the eye of the storm

A storm like no other I have experienced in nearly eighteen years in Sicily began during the evening of Wednesday 8th February and I had begun to be concerned in the late afternoon when I read that all schools in Modica were to be closed the next day because of bad weather.

By mid-evening, the rain was pelting down relentlessly and I was surprised that the electricity supply held and enabled me to watch Sanremo at all. It didn't in several other areas of the city and I later learned that some homes were without power for as long as 36 hours. The difference between this violent storm and others I have witnessed here was that this one lasted so long - there was no let-up at all until Friday evening, schools remained closed, we were all asked to go out only for essential reasons and I had begun to think that it would never end. It was an extremely scary event to live through alone. 

My bedroom flooded, probably because the windows look out onto an open field, whereas the other rooms are partly protected by the surrounding buildings. The rug I keep near the bedroom balcony door became hopelessly wet very quickly and, searching a cupboard for some item to replace it, I came across a box of mat-sized absorbent pads, made of cotton wool backed with plastic, which I had bought when my dog was a puppy. (They didn't work because my dog thought they were for eating and then destroying.) I placed them on the bedroom floor and am happy to report that they did the job, absorbing a lot of the water and at least preventing things from becoming any worse. 

The whole Province of Ragusa was affected by the storm but Modica was particularly badly hit this time. Trees and masonry fell, roads became impassable and in the Old Town café tables and chairs were just swept away by the water coursing down the main street. Everyone I have spoken to this week had had to contend with water, to a lesser or greater extent, getting into their homes and it is not an experience any of us wish to see repeated. However, as Sicilians say, this time "Siamo qua" ("We are here"). 

A BASKET OF GOODNESS

This is the hottest summer I can remember in Sicily and it seems to be wearing us all down because the extreme heat started early, in May, and I believe it has only rained for about ten minutes since. There are, of course, compensations, such as granita, anguria (watermelon) and myriad ice cream flavours and I certainly perked up when a friend brought me this traditional Sicilian basket of goodies from his garden on Friday. 

There are aubergines, datterini (tiny, date-shaped tomatoes), salad tomatoes, tomatoes for sauce and occhi di bue (bull's-eye) tomatoes, long peppers and a kind of pepper that I had never seen before.These are called friggitelli (from friggere - to fry) and, although they are related to chilli peppers, they are not hot. (I understand they are known in the US.) My friend told me to fry them in olive oil and garlic until browned and to add coarse salt only at the end of cooking. That is exactly what I did and wow, they were good!

BALMY BREEZES

A lovely day on Sunday with friends who are both book lovers and dog lovers and what could be better after a long and delicious lunch than an evening stroll by the sea in Sampieri?

Blogger in balmy breeze

And the memory of a beautiful sunset
to take home.

HURRICANE PASTA

 At the end of last week, we were all very worried and frightened in Sicily because a Medicane (a blend of the English words "Mediterranean" and "hurricane") was coming in. In Modica it just passed us by and we were fortunate but the effects were devastating in Catania and the Province of Siracusa, as many of you will have seen in the news. We were told to stay at home on Thursday evening and all day on Friday, if possible and the silence in the streets brought back uneasy memories of lockdown for many of us. The early hours of Thursday were particularly scary.

I did venture to my local greengrocer's late on Thursday afternoon, thinking I might be at home until Sunday, and on Friday evening it was my intention to make an amatriciana, one of my favourite pasta dishes. Then I discovered I had forgotten to buy tomatoes and I didn't have a tin of them to improvise with. I did, however, have pancetta, if not the guanciale (pork cheek) you should really use with an amatriciana. (I remember a Masterchef Italia judge groaning because a contestant was using pancetta cubes, but they weren't in an imminent hurricane situation!) I also had passata and - a favourite store cupboard ingredient of mine - a tin of grilled peppers. Therefore it was with these that I created a comforting pasta dish and I named it "Hurricane pasta":

Hurricane pasta

These quantities will serve two people very generously:

200 gr spaghetti or spaghettoni (which are a bit thicker)

2 tablesp olive oil

100 gr smoked pancetta cubes

1 white onion, chopped

200 gr small mushrooms, sliced

330 ml bottle passata

380 gr tin or jar grilled peppers in oil, drained 

seasalt and freshly ground black pepper

chilli flakes to taste

fresh basil leaves if liked

First, get the pasta water on with a little coarse salt in it and, while it is coming to the boil, heat the oil in a wide pan.

Add the pancetta and, as soon as the fat begins to release, add the onion and cook, stirring until softened but not browned.

Add the mushrooms and stir.

Add the passata and stir, lowering the heat.

Add the drained peppers, having cut any very large pieces in half.

By this time, the pasta water should be boiling, so add the pasta to it and cook for the time stated on the pack (probably 10 - 12 mins.)

Add the seasoning and chilli flakes to the pepper mixture and, at this stage, if liked, you can add a few torn fresh basil leaves.

Drain the pasta once it is al dente and add it to the pan containing the sauce. Stir on low heat for just a few minutes.

Serve and enjoy your "hurricane pasta", hopefully in better weather than we had in Sicily last week!

THE WEDDING PARTY GIRL

The Wedding Party Girl

A story for New Year

I would see her four or five times a year, usually in summer, as I sat writing in the bar on the corner of my street in Centochiese. Once, I saw her in the hairdresser's, on a Saturday like all the other times, and once in the run-up to Christmas – always with the same group of friends and even in winter, when it gets cold and windy in Sicily, seated outside the bar where those who wished to could smoke. She had the kind of easy elegance that every woman secretly covets and I noticed her first not for the beauty she undoubtedly had, but for this. When she moved she glided, her long dark hair seemed effortlessly in place and her clothes, simpler in style than those of her friends, seemed smarter because of the way she wore them; few, but perfect, accessories, make-up applied by a painstaking beautician to look as if it wasn't there and, most importantly, she wore them with confidence.

Beauticians do rather well in Centochiese – there are six within a five-minute walk from my house – and they do especially well on summer Saturdays, for when there is a wedding, not only the bride, but every female guest will have what we would call in English “the works” and will be made up as if for a television appearance. An Italian beautician can make anyone look stunning, including, on occasion, I like to think, me. 

So it was that I knew they were a wedding party from their attire – the women in evening dress or at least what used to be called “cocktail dresses” in the early afternoon, and the men in their expensive suits teamed with trainers – yes, trainers – that had probably cost as much as the rest of the outfit. It made a stylish combination. The other clues were the group's general celebratory mood and the time of day: I would see them at around 2pm or between 6pm and 8. You see, in Sicily, people don't just have their wedding photos taken in and outside the church or at the reception, but the bride and groom leave their guests, sometimes for several hours, to go off to a specially chosen location – often the beach - with the photographer. What do the guests do in the meantime? Well, those who live near enough sometimes go home whilst others, such as this group, repair to a favourite bar to smoke, gossip, have an aperitvo and share a plate of struzzichini while they wait for the real celebration to begin, at perhaps 8.30 or 9.30 pm. This will go on until the early hours, comprise many courses, the viewing of the wedding video or perhaps a clip or montage of the couple's story, dancing and high jinks and possibly – something which frightens me to death – the lighting of paper lanterns which fly dangerously low over the guests' heads. Yes, these friends would have a good time later.

The wedding party girl, as I called her in my mind, never seemed to be with any of the young men in particular, though some of the others were obvious couples. She seemed of them, yet a little aloof, never smoking, never talking or laughing loudly but smiling, graceful and usually acknowledging me with a little nod. “Signora”, she'd say quietly if I passed her.

Several summers went by like this and after the first one, I'd notice a couple missing from the group so I'd guess it was their wedding day. Then the next summer they'd be back, the young woman perhaps with a definite bump, and another two of the group would be missing. Yet it never seemed to be the wedding party girl's turn to absent herself from the group.

Then one summer I didn't see her at all. On the first Saturday I thought that she might have been the (non-blushing) bride but when she didn't appear for the second or third time the group were there, I wondered if she had moved away, as so many young Sicilians do, for university or for work. I didn't know the group well enough to ask and if I had, my British reserve would have got the better of me. I didn't see her the summer after that either, and then I suppose I stopped thinking about it as after all, what business was it of mine?

That New Year's Eve, for the first time in eight or so years, it snowed in Centochiese, an event which was greeted with joy rather than dismay, for there were children who had never seen such a thing. And I had to admit it was pretty, although I shivered indoors more than I ever had in England, where houses are built to shelter you from the cold rather than the summer heat. On New Year's Day I awoke to that silence that seems to fall everywhere along with snow when it first comes. “The silence of a convent”, I thought as I ventured out, as apartment-dwelling dog owners must, that morning.

Picture by kind permission of  Oreb - Libri & Sacro, Modica

We walked slowly, my dog and I – she because, like the children, she had never seen snow before and I for fear of falling. Thus it was that when we came to the Catholic book store, we paused for a moment to look at its beautifully decorated window, which won prizes every year in the Centochiese Christmas Window competition. Suddenly I became aware of a woman treading lightly in the snow towards me, dressed in an ankle-length grey skirt of thick material, a mid-length, heavy raincoat that could have been British and what in my far-away country we would call “sensible shoes” - probably much more suitable for the snow than mine - and yes, a wisp of wavy black hair escaping from under her wimple. I don't know why she was outside or why her hands were bare on this freezing day but they were, and as she stopped to admire the crib in the window she gave me a fleeting smile and that familiar nod. “Sorella”, said I, nodding back. There was just a hint of a wave as she left, enough for me to register the glint of her nun's ring in the Sicilian sun which was beginning to peep through the unusual grey of the sky. Then she melted away as the snow soon would and to this day, I have not seen her again. The wedding party girl had had her wedding day.

Cross-posted at Tales from Centochiese

QUIZ: SICILIAN PROVERBS - 22

A little light relief is needed and it's ages since we had a proverbs quiz, so why not have a go at matching these seasonal proverbs in dialect to their meanings?

1.  Marzu, mi rifaccio.

2.  Marzu tingi, aprile dipingi.

3.  Marzu pazzareddu, talìa u suli, e pigghia l'umbrellu.

4.  La luna di marzu règula sei misi.

5.  Marzu conza e guasta, né cuvernu cc'è che basti.

Embed from Getty Images

a.  There's no way to stop the breakages and  [subsequent] repairs needed in March.

b.  The March moon influences the moons for six months [ie., the weather of the March new moon period will influence that of the beginning of the next six months].

c.  In March I remake myself.

d.  Tint in March, paint in April [with spring colours].

e.  March is mad - if you see the sun, grab your umbrella.

 Highlight the space below to see the answers:
1c, 2d, 3e, 4b, 5a.

BLACKBIRD DAYS COME EARLY

The words "storm" and "hurricane" are often bandied about in Modica to describe any winter weather that is not sunny but we certainly had a storm at the weekend. Starting on Saturday evening, relentless rain fell in sheets throughout the night and all day Sunday and did so with quite frightening noise.  A girl from Cardiff - Britain's rainiest city - does not scare easily when confronted with the wet stuff, so I'm sure you will agree that it must have been quite something to terrify me and confine me to my flat!

The area where I live escaped the worst of it but there were floods in Modica Bassa [the Old Town], Modica Alta, nearby Scicli and the surrounding countryside with considerable damage to property, cars and goods in shops. In via Fontana in Modica Bassa - a street to which I am sentimentally attached because it is where my dog Simi and I lived when we first settled in Modica, twelve years ago - several cars were swept away.  In the early hours of Sunday the Mayor of Modica, who had been out on reconnaissance for most of the night, announced on facebook that all schools in the city would be closed on Monday as a precautionary measure.  Later. we were told not to drink the water until further notice.

Flood in Modica Bassa, 22.1.17

The rain eventually stopped on Monday but more is forecast for next weekend  during i giorni della merla  - the days of the blackbird [29th - 31st January], traditionally the coldest period in Italy. There are several legends that purport to explain the reason for this name but the one I prefer tells us that, long ago when January had only 28 days, a proud blackbird [who was actually white], fed up with the cold, asked January if he could cut a few days off his "reign".  January, it seems, got in a huff and asked his friend February to lend him three days so that he could use them to make the blackbird's life even more miserable. February agreed and when the blackbird, thinking that the weather would be warmer and drier now that January had gone, next went in search of food, mean old January blew up a snowstorm.  The bird found shelter in a chimneystack but when he emerged three days later, his beautiful plumage was black and thus it remained, with all but a few blackbirds, forever, the rare white blackbird being a sign of good fortune.  Let's hope that one appears on via Fontana soon!

Today the Mayor of Modica has met with Regional President Rosario Crocetta, who has thanked Modicans for their fortitude and determination to carry on with business as usual after the storm and it is likely that some regional funds will be directed to the city to help with the clear-up.

When Simi and I left via Fontana, I bought this souvenir of our time there:

Take it away, Dino:



There is a lovely Juliette Gréco song called Un  Merle Blanc but I cannot find a video of it.

CONTENTMENT IN SICILY....

.... is when, on a cold day, a supply of your favourite tea reaches your favourite bar!

REMEMBERING A FLOOD

It has been a particularly rainy day in Modica today and there have been floods in nearby Siracusa. Perhaps this is what has prompted more social media posts than usual marking the anniversary of the devastating flood that happened here on 26th September 1902, leaving 112 dead, heartbreaking damage to both public buildings and homes, crumbled bridges and a lower town that would be changed forever.  

It was in the early hours of that fateful day that the equivalent of six months' normal rainfall plummeted down on Modica and you can see the watermark on the building below.  [I'm sorry the plaque is not clear in the photo.]

After this event, the rivers that flowed into and through Modica were covered up. If you come to Modica, the first thing you'll probably do is take a stroll along the Corso Umberto I in Modica Bassa. You'll be walking where the river flowed until the beginning of the last century.

NOT QUITE READY.....

What is judged to be really hot weather here does not normally kick in until the beginning of June so we were all taken by surprise yesterday when the temperature shot up to 38°C.  I'm not ready, my clothes aren't ready and, most importantly, my toes aren't ready! My taste buds, however, are:

SABATO MUSICALE

Two offerings for you this week:

I have always loved this cheerful French song in which Maurice Chevalier says you can wish everyone a happy new year at any time and long ago, I sang it with my students. A vous, cher Maurice:

Maurice Chevalier - Bonne année

Now this comes to you by way of Ragusa News, who had the great idea of setting some of the scenes of our New Year's Eve snowstorm to music:
Enjoy!

"AND WE SHALL HAVE SNOW"

What with all the midnight fireworks and singing along to Auld Lang Syne from London on the teley, I didn't realise it was snowing outside till about 1 am, when a friend's tweet alerted me. I went out onto the balcony, expecting to find a few inconsequential flakes falling here and there but not settling and found, to my astonishment, snow to be reckoned with!

This was the view from my bedroom window this afternoon:

Snow has not been seen in the Ragusa area since 2005 and not in Modica, I believe, since 2003. Even then, it disappeared very quickly, so you can imagine how the above carpet of what I call "proper snow" is already being declared the event of the century in these parts.

The last time I saw "proper snow" was ten years ago, in Britain and I was with a man I loved very much. I could go all romantic and tell you how it brings back bittersweet memories, how the snow made that last meeting perfect and how I gazed at him adoringly as he drove me home through the storm. But actually, I think I'll tell you that I am scared to go out in case I slip, that the lorries are not out in force sanding the roads, that it is impossible to keep warm indoors unless you are literally sitting on top of a radiator and that I am dreading all the things that could go wrong in Sicily if this admittedly pretty covering does not melt away by tomorrow!

Perhaps I should award the 2015 "Scrooge of the year" prize to myself!

And now, here's a little something from two Welshies:

Tom Jones and Cerys Matthews - Baby, It's Cold Outside

ARCOBALENO

Friday morning was grey and drab, just like my mood. I was walking along, thinking of Tennyson's line,

"On the bald street breaks the blank day",

when I happened to glance up.  And there, above Modica, was one of the most beautiful rainbows I had ever seen. [The photo does not do it justice.]  It was only there for a moment but it really lifted my spirits and my thoughts turned [not for the first time in Modica] to some lines by Colette, which she attributed to her mother, Sido:

"Regarde la couleur du ciel au couchant, qui annonce grand vent et tempête. Qu'inporte le grand vent de demain pourvu que nous admirions cette fournaise d'aujourd'hui? Regarde la première pousse du haricot, le cotylédon qui lève sur sa tête un petit chapeau de terre sèche..... Regarde, vite, le bouton de l'iris noir est en train de s'épanouir! Si tu ne te dépêches pas, il ira plus vite que toi!"

"Look at the colour of the sky at sunset, warning us of strong winds and a storm. What do the strong winds of tomorrow matter as long as we can admire today's burning fire? Look at the first shoots of the bean, the seed leaf popping up with a little hat of dry earth on its head......  Quick - look! The bud of the black iris is opening.  If you don't hurry it will go faster than you!' " 

Actually, Sido probably didn't say it but what matters is that the words were written.

Afterwards, I suddenly I found myself humming this song:

Annette Hanshaw - If You Want the Rainbow

THE HEROINE OF SANT'ANTONIO

Today some people in Sardinia have been able to return to their devastated homes as the clear-up operation continues. There are conflicting reports about the number of dead - some newspapers say 18, others 16 - and at least one person is still missing.

From the Sant'Antonio district of the badly hit town of Olbia comes a tale of bravery and friendship, among many others which will emerge in the coming days, I am sure: A young German hairdresser called Martina Feick, who has been living in Sardinia for seven years, did not hesitate, when what has been described as "the water bomb" arrived, to swim across her street in order to rescue an elderly lady who lived opposite her with her dog.  Having rescued both the lady and her beloved canine companion, who had been at risk of being drowned in their home, Martina took them into her own house, where the three spent Monday night together.

To the people of Sant'Antonio, Martina is a heroine and I am happy to be able to bring you this story of hands literally reaching out across cultures in a time of great danger.

Update, 22.11.13:  The final death toll is 16 but one person is still missing.

SARDINIA

Official flag of Sardinia

This has turned out to be an unkind autumn meterologically in several parts of the world and last night, as many of you will have seen in news reports in your own countries, the island of Sardinia was hit by a major cyclone, Ciclone Cleopatra.

The worst-affected area is the town of Olbia and the whole Gallura region is, according to Corriere della Sera, on its knees. The death toll at the moment is 18, including four children and the latest estimate is that 2,737 people have been made homeless.  

Tragically, a policeman escorting an ambulance was among the victims as the bridge which his vehicle was crossing collapsed in Dorgali [Nuoro]. Three of his colleagues were also injured and there is as yet no word on their condition.

Prime Minister Letta, who is on his way to Sardinia as I write, has declared a state of emergency and referred to the event as a national tragedy. His government has allocated €27 million for emergency relief and the miltary have already been deployed in the rescue and clearing up operation. 

Italy's Environment Minister, Andrea Orlando, has said that 17.3" of rain fell on the island last night - a figure equivalent to half the average rainfall there for a whole year. This has put an unbearable strain on Sardinia's water system. President of the Camera dei deputati Laura Boldrini has said that the tragedy has once again brought environmental issues to the fore and has called for more environmental protection measures.

As always in such circumstances, Italy has rallied to help those in need: Hotels in Olbia are receiving the displaced and a medical emergency room has been set up in a pharmacy as the local hospital is still difficult to reach. Following reports of the disaster late last night, I was impressed by the speed with which social media were being used to inform people about where they could go for help and to offer accommodation to those who have been evacuated.

President Napolitano has expressed his solidarity with and sympathy for the Sardinian people and Pope Francis, on twitter, has asked people to pray for the victims, especially the children.

AUTUMN BLUE

Today, for Sicilians has been a day of brutto tempo [bad weather], there having been a bit of wind. But just look at the blue sky we had! Now all I need is some blue sky in my personal life - please.

ANY UMBRELLAS?

Often it is the sideshows of great events that are most revealing about the nature of some of those attending them and so it was last night in Rome: As ecclesiastical history unfolded in the rain, spectators' umbrellas were refolded when they were asked to put them down so that everybody in the crowd could have a chance to see the new Pope. Italians can, at times, be among the most disorderly people in the world but at others, they will comply surprisingly quietly with a reasonable request and thus it was in St Peter's Square while the world looked on.

This got me thinking about umbrellas and I remembered that, when I first came here, it was difficult to actually buy one: they are not normally sold in supermarkets as they are in Britain and, if you couldn't run to a designer one, your choice was very limited. Those that were on sale at a reasonable price were either flimsy or had prongs that did not tuck in at the top, making them a menace to those padded raincoats so beloved of Italian women in winter.  Now better specimens are on sale in more shops, though rarely in supermarkets.

I've never really got on with umbrellas, I must admit, preferring a hood or my trusty Cardiffian hat, so when it does rain here I am often asked where my umbrella is.  This is a question which only someone addicted to their car would ask on a windy day for, as every Brit knows, rain and umbrellas do not mix. And when hailstones the size of eggs fall, as they did today in Modica, no umbrella would last very long. [Of course, I was the only person out and about in such weather once again.]

A beach parasol is known as an ombrellone or "big umbrella" and in the summer we were treated to the ombrellone strike. As I wrote then, Simi has her own version:

Earlier, I searched for umbrella quotes but the only one I liked, and which rather fits my mood at the moment, is this:

The rain it raineth on the just
And also on the unjust fella:
But chiefly on the just, because
The unjust steals the just's umbrella.

- Lord Bowen, quoted in Walter Sichel's Sands of Time.

My favourite Sicilian proverb about rain, by the way, is,

Cca çiovi supra ô vagnatu - Here it rains on the person who is already soaked [the implication being that troubles do not come singly, a premise with which I concur].

Does anyone know if there's still an umbrella repair stall in Cardiff Market?

Flanagan and Allen - The Umbrella Man

My favourite film featuring umbrellas is Les Parapluies de Cherbourg and I cry enough to make an umbrella necessary every time!

As it's nearly Easter, here's an umbrella song from Easter Parade:




Finally, here's a bit of inconsequential fun:

Enzo Jannacci - L'ombrello di mio fratello




If it's raining in your life at the moment, I hope a friend with an umbrella comes along soon!

HAIL

As I write, Messina, Enna and Caltanissetta Provinces have snow and it is extremely cold, by Sicilian standards, all over the island - a state of affairs not helped, of course, by the fact that Sicilian houses are built to protect dwellers from heat rather than freezing temperatures.

In Ragusa Province we have had two days of heavy hailstorms and this will probably continue tonight, according to forecasts. When I say "heavy" I mean it literally as the stones were the size of walnuts and the accompanying noise was quite something. I did think of going outside to photograph one of the stones for you but decided that "She finally succumbed to a passing hailstone" would have been an unfitting obituary.

Despite slippery roads and awful drainage, a severe hailstorm here does not stop people from using their cars - it would take Armageddon to do that - but it is enough to empty supermarkets, encourage people to cancel appointments and cause anxious mothers to wrap their offspring in as many layers of clothing as they can find and at least three wooly hats worn one on top of another [and that is only for indoors].

On the serious side, there has been a lot of damage to fruit and vegetable crops and at Randello Kamarina a 12,000-metre tomato crop has been totally destroyed.  Many other greenhouses and polytunnels along the Ragusan coastline have also been damaged.  Local politicians are calling for urgent regional government help for the growers.