This is the Topino river, after which our town Valtopina is named.
Topino actually means ‘little mouse’ but today, watching its gentle meandering, all that came to mind was the word ‘torpor’.
I recognise Torpor. I meet it practically every day when endeavouring to stir the Italian Health System into meaningful activity. They’ve had 4 months (minus 5 days) in which to help a man who can neither stand nor walk, and they’ve achieved precisely nothing.
The Topino is a flashy river. Sometimes it brims over its banks, churning and gobbling in an opaque brown torrent.
I’m not holding out for that kind of activity; just forward movement of some kind …
I found this snail shell on the house wall. When I picked it off, I couldn’t see any trace of the inhabitant – only the thin layer of dried mucous which had held it stuck a few feet off the ground.
So, a step backwards on the velocity scale – you can’t get much slower than a dead snail.
Let it not be said that this reminds me of the Italian health system, particularly as today we may have had the first bit of good news since our return to Italy.
I’m not enlarging on it right now for fear of jinxing it …
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: