A Festive welcome to all my Loyal and New Followers
Early Sunday morning before Christmas, thick fog fills the valley below our villa.
Photo P Finnigan
“Oh no, we’ve got another one and he’s moving at the speed of a striking slug!” My man gasped. We had pulled in behind a battered old Fiat at the self-service petrol pump, and the equally battered old driver was struggling to understand the money machine that paid for the petrol and then sent instructions to the pump. As there had been a queue of just one, we had decided to stop for petrol at this cheaper pump, rather than the other one that was serviced, and as we did so, another car pulled in behind and trapped us in. We watched in horror as the doddery old boy tapped at various buttons and then went to open his petrol cap. Meanwhile, his driver’s door was wide open. He then went around to the passenger door and opened that as well, leaned in and rummaged a bit, then returned to the pump forgetting to close it. He then went to talk to the proprietor, who came over to help out. Finally, he got into the car to drive away with his petrol cap and passenger door still open, so I leapt (well hauled myself) out of our car to warn him. Meanwhile, the Italians now queuing up behind us were quite naturally sounding their horns. You may ask why have I told you about this, well living in Italy, some things just have to be said.
Christmas morning Fiorentino Iris in the garden.
Photo J Finnigan
The Following day was Monday and we set off early, all bright and bushy tailed, for IKEA near Florence, as I was determined to get a new kitchen dresser before Christmas. I won’t bore you with the visit, apart from mentioning the hilarious site of a chappy trying to squeeze massive boxes into a tiny car. Half an hour later he had taken it all out, tried another way and failed miserably. “Look at that idiot, he’s got a roof rack, why is he not using it?” My man scoffed. Why indeed? The next morning, Tuesday, we took the time out to put the new dresser together. Never have I experienced such a complicated and lengthy process, just to have our glasses and china sitting in a nice off-white glass cabinet. After two hours I decided to pop some veggies in the oven to roast. An hour later, they were all cooked so I turned the oven off and left them to keep warm. Another hour later and we had finally finished the cabinet! The roasted veggies were black and unidentifiable, but we were so hungry we ate them anyway, washed down with a good Pinot Grigio. Never again!
The view from the sofa on Christmas Day Evening.
Photo J Finnigan
Christmas day arrived. This is the only day of the year when my man cooks. I still need to supervise and hurry things along, because if he’s left to his own devices he’ll take four hours or more to achieve what a normal person does in half an hour! But it’s the thought that counts. I defrosted some plums that we had picked in the garden a few months earlier and made some lovely creamy desserts, whilst looking over my shoulder and giving directions as needed. He had bought some parsnips in England and brought them home on his last trip, so we had some lovely roast potatoes and vegis, with red peppers packed with a nutty stuffing, topped with scamorza cheese. Yummy.
Chocolate Fountain and dips.
Photo P Finnigan
On Boxing Day, we bootled off to our daughter’s new home between San Gimignano and Volterra for present opening and lunch with the grandkids. A perfect family day of course, lovely lunch followed by the excitment of a new Chocolate Fountain Machine, which gurgled hot melted chocolate up and over, well yes, a little fountain. We dipped fruit, biscuits and cake into the chocolate and our grandson became so mesmarised that we had to prize his attention away before he made himself irreversibly sick!
Giorgio waits to be noticed, his paw slightly raised. Photo J Finnigan
Another highlight of my Christmas was a plate of gluten free mini-macaroons and sweet desserts, handed in by my lovely neighbour and celebrity cook Judy Witts-Francini. This was such a treat for me; thank you so much Judy xx
And finally, to all our friends in Fiano for the festive chat and shouts of ‘Auguri’ from all and sundry, and we do hope that Giorgio the cat did get rewarded for his long wait outside the butchers.
Do drop me a line and I would really love it if you happened to read ‘My Father, The Assassin’ over the holiday and left a review on Amazon.
Tanti Auguri June xx
PS here is the direct link for ‘My Father, The Assassin’.
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