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August 25, 2016 Leave a comment
Grapes ripe for the picking

Grapes ripe for the picking

One of the worst things about illness is that your time is no longer your own.

Today we went to the hospital and queued with one set of people just for a blood pressure check, then with the same lot of people again to see the anaesthetist who had an office that backed onto the first room.

Each doorway we went through, we had to take the pedals off Clive’s wheelchair, remove the cushion, fold up the chair, and then reassemble.

Each time a form was filled out, which was often, Clive’s name was questioned – Are you sure this is his surname?

Yes, I jolly well am. When I married him I took it on myself!

We spent all morning on this fruitless exercise – 6 hours used up.

The result sometimes is that I end up picking fruit in the dark, which I don’t mind at all.

La Signora

January 21, 2016 Leave a comment
At least the dogs think something to me ...

At least the dogs think something to me …

I spent a long time last night taking my sprayer to pieces and cleaning all the little bits, but so as not to go the same way as yesterday, I phoned the family-run business where I bought it years ago.

As usual, they recognised my voice. (And advised me to use hot water to mix the ingredients, which worked.)

Is my speech that distinctive, though? Everyone always recognises my voice. I can never be anonymous even if I want to be.

There are few foreigners in this part of Italy, it’s true, and my accent starts peeping through after the first greeting or so. Also I have a slight lisp.

You’d perhaps expect people to know me by name – Damaris, or Signora West. But no-one can cope with either my first name (mangled variously as Daminus or Daramis if they even make the effort) or my surname because ‘w’ in Italian is virtually non-existent.

So who am I? I’m LA SIGNORA!! (The lady.)

(Add the epithet English, American, Dutch or German as the fancy takes you because people often mistake my nationality.)

Even Clive fairs better than me – probably because he’s less tolerant.

So ‘la signora’ phoned; ‘la signora’ will do it; give it to ‘la signora’.

People call out to me: “Signora!” Even people I’ve known for years have no other way of addressing me.

Ah well. The dogs think something to me. My smell, mainly …