Italy has been our home for more than 12 years now, and the house in the photo for most of that time. This blog documents the joys and problems of our existence day by day.
We have our difficulties. My husband, Clive, is permanently disabled. In addition, he recently spent 9 months in French hospitals recovering first from a coma and then from an operation to remove a massive bowel tumour. He’s just finished a course of chemotherapy at home, and is learning to walk again.
Some of our difficulties derive from where we live, but I still love living here. Clive is more circumspect. By reading about our daily life, perhaps you will be able to tell whose view is the more accurate. Does the pleasure outweigh the pain? Or will my writing betray a less rose-tinted reality?
You can also see the books we’ve written and published by clicking on the image below:
This will almost certainly be my last post on ‘Living in Italy’.
On Monday 2nd January 2017 we will be committing to the sale of our house, mainly for health reasons.
I wish to say how much I’ve appreciated the companionship of my readers, and above all those I’ve heard from regularly. You know who you are and I will not forget you.
The grapefruit tree has chosen this moment to send out dozens of new shoots, just as we have to leave it behind, but we hope that it foreshadows new beginnings.
We did our duty today and had Florence sterilised.
Having evaded the op on Wednesday, this time she had no escape because two of us got her in the car.
She’s very sleepy this evening, and wearing an Elizabethan collar plus one of Clive’s old shirts made to (sort of) fit by being tied in multiple little peaks with string.
I prefer to think of her sitting in the orchard.
It’s not just the roses that are blooming.
The abelias are fully out; not that a tangle of winter oak branches is the best backdrop to see them against.
There’s a much-used Italian word – ‘furbo’ (feminine form ‘furba’) which means sly or smart depending on the context.
It’s basically what Florence is, as demonstrated by the photo.
She was due this morning to be sterilised, but the only way to get her into the car is to bribe her to jump up with a bowl of food.
Since she had to have an empty stomach for her operation, this device wasn’t possible.
So what happened? She saw straight through all my pretences, flatly refused to co-operate, and we had to cancel.
I’m amazed at the developing buds on this rose.
It doesn’t seem to be able to accept that this is the time of year to go to sleep.
It must be the most lastingly splendid rose that the bush has produced all year.
Normally, one of its attractive yellow blooms has only to unfold a little to become an instant target for rose beetles.
As far as I know, the rose beetles are grubs in the soil right now.
This is just the holly. There are a few berries on our beautiful tall tree.
As for the ivy, we pull it off and up at every opportunity because it stifles the mammoth centennial oak trees.