Monthly Archives: August 2014

as you do


He said it’s a 1.2 Kg bistecca alla fiorentina. He also said he didn’t eat it all by himself.

I asked YoungB if he’d please post more photos so I’d have something to show Nonna. That was his response. Nonna will love it – she has a good sense of humour – but it wasn’t entirely what I had in mind!

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Posted by on August 30, 2014 in Food


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We Skyped with YoungB for about 30 of them last night, catching up with the news of his first week at Recanati. It seems there’s a smallish class of mixed nationalities – Chinese (but Cantonese speakers, so bang goes the idea that YoungB could maybe brush up on his Mandarin), Belgian and Mexican – and that they do thorough work. It’s clear from what he said that they are going over stuff he’s already learnt but that’s all to the good because reinforcement aids retention. He said the cultural activities have been very enjoyable and often don’t finish till quite late – the one scheduled for later in his day would have seen him back in his lodgings around 11 pm – so it’s no wonder he’s looking tired.

Dr B has spent many anxious minutes with Nonna. She was fitted with new hearing aids one day last week and the following day had already lost one of them! I’m pleased to say it has been found but you’ll understand that he was somewhat stressed – actually, make that very stressed – about all of that. On a more positive note, he’s had quite a lot of minutes being pummelled by a physio and is feeling the benefits: looser muscles leading to ease of movement and a reduction in the pain and discomfort that have lingered from his minor motorbike accident some weeks ago.

I have felt overwhelmed by different sorts of minutes this same week – leading me to think that the smartest investment I could make in my own sanity would be to attend this workshop – because it’s one of those times of year where four official meetings come pell mell on top of one another. Taking minutes is easy. Redacting them? Not so much! It’s also the time of year where the AGM and annual report loom large as projects that have to be dealt with, and I’m the one who has to drive them, in among more minutes (and too few, perhaps, of the first sort of minutes in which to deal with all of those). So we’ve all been busy and now it’s the weekend, for which we are heaving heartfelt sighs of relief.

I hope your minutes have all been wonderfully productive but that you’re able to relax for quite a lot of them over the weekend. 🙂

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Posted by on August 9, 2014 in Health, Musing, Travel


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and now the work begins

Castello Brancaccio, Roviano, Italy. Photo from Panoramio.

YoungB is on the train, en route to the next part of his overseas adventure. Along the journey from one side of the country to the other, he will travel through the village where Dr B and I lived in the 80s. If the train is a locale – the picturesque, slow trip, stopping at every station – he will even stop there for a short while. If it’s an express train, he’ll probably have the opportunity to see the castle as the train approaches the village, then in a moment he’ll be whisked on his way as the train climbs into another tunnel.

The cousins have looked after YoungB extremely well and he has, I think, felt very spoilt by them. The next four weeks will be a different sort of adventure where he’ll be much more on his own. However, he’ll be surrounded by other foreign students, I assume, who are also there trying to hone their language skills. The academic institution prides itself on having a good social aspect to its offerings and I imagine all those students are going to have a wonderful time. Who knows? YoungB might meet up with some Chinese students and perhaps have the opportunity to improve his Mandarin as well. Wouldn’t that be a fun extra?

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Posted by on August 3, 2014 in Musing, Travel


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a few reflections

18 years ago YoungB was blond and still a baby

18 years ago YoungB was blond and still a baby

You know how I was unemployed for quite a while and doing some work from home to help with the bills (I couldn’t say it actually paid any of them)? And that I was genuinely looking for work, all the while in the sincere expectation that I would never again work full-time and probably not even part-time, what with being so old and everything? Yeah, I know. How wrong can you be? When I attended that job interview the other week, I was the youngest in the room which made me optimistic; and, given my background, I thought I was in with a very good chance of matching the ethos of the organisation. And, yippee, they thought so too.

So now that I’ve been there for four weeks I can honestly admit that there have been many days when I’ve been so overwhelmed by technology problems and the feeling of having bitten off far more than I could ever possibly chew that I’ve wanted to say, “I give up. It’s all too hard.” But I’m not like that. And besides, nobody expects someone coming into an organisation from such a diverse background to hit the boards running and have everything learnt and dealt with in the first week or even the first month. I’ve been mightily relieved to discover that my predecessor floundered for a while, too. I’ve cracked some of the codes earlier than she did but I suspect her organisational skills were way ahead of mine!

My boss told me today at our weekly debrief, this one the end of a hideously busy few days where we’ve had a series of meetings and been working hard to meet reporting deadlines, that I could hardly have chosen a more frantic time to start with the organisation. I’d anticipated that it would be a busy job and I was right. But today we all downed tools and had a sit-down, civilised morning tea to congratulate some newlyweds and welcome a couple of new employees. There were speeches and laughter and nobody rushing us back to work. The only caveat was that we had to remember to change our status on the “what you’re doing” screen to “busy”!

I’d planned to knit on my long bus trips but that’s not happening. The second bus services a busy school route. It’s jam-packed in a way that’s reminiscent of sardines but actually pales into insignificance against memories of London tubes or even Roman buses, and there have been days where I’ve been one of the upright sardines: no knitting possible. Some of the other grown-ups complain about the kids. I suppose it’s because my own kid is not long past that stage that I don’t mind it. They’re kids and often clearly as tired and sleepy as I am. Also, the benefit to me (at least during term) is that, if I were to forget to ring the bell for my stop, it wouldn’t matter, because I get off at the same stop as all the kids.

And what’s my kid up to? He’s having a wonderful time in Rome with his rellies. The cousin who hasn’t seen him since he was a little, blond baby – 12 months and a couple of weeks, to be reasonably accurate; and in the photo, they’re admiring the gardens at one of the local educational institutions – said she’s finding it difficult to accept that he’s grown into this tall, dark-haired young man. She was quite emotional about it. Even so, she and her family have been showing YoungB all the Roman sites from the viewpoint of a local and that, to be sure, is something very special that I’m sure he’ll reflect on in years to come.


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