A Month in the Life of an English Writer in Tuscany – May Reflections

The continuing Adventures of June Finnigan, Her Man and Farty Barty the Cat.

Benvenuto to all my Loyal and New Followers

The month of May, here in beautiful Tuscany, is generally lovely and everywhere wild Acacia trees are dripping with blossom. We are also surrounded by heavily blossomed Horse Chestnut and Lilac, so driving along the country lanes is like cruising through heavily scented temples. Unfortunately the high level of pollen can cause problems and my man could be heard saying “My nose must be the fittest part of me, because it keeps on running!”Also in early May, the gorgeous Bee-Eaters arrive in great flocks swooping and calling out in their unique fashion, which helps to take my man’s mind off his running nose.

Back in our local village of Fiano, my man returned a new pair of rubber gloves to Milko, who runs the local Cartolibreria, where you can buy a whole lot more than books and stationery. The box had contained two left hand pink gloves.

Whilst pink did not bother my man; he believes that ‘real men can wear any colour,’ the lack of a right hand one was a problem. So he then confused poor sensitive Milko by asking him for a box of right hand gloves! Finally, M got the joke and said he would order some more. It is rare to be able to get anything immediately here, returning the following day for an ordered item, is perfectly normal.

Laura’s bar/alimentary had stocked up with charcoal for all the outside grills. May heralds the first arrival of the weekenders who start firing up their outside barbies. Our nearest weekenders are the Ping-Pong family, so called because they come up from Certaldo and cram themselves into a tiny carport to play ping-pong. Back in the bar, Laura serves us her most delicious coffee every morning, however, in early May our relaxation over the newspapers was disturbed by the most horrendous sound of hawks screaming from a neighbouring apartment building. Laura said that it was an electronic scaring device to keep the birds away from nesting in the new apartment building’s roof! Despite the volume, the locals carried on their conversation as if nothing was happening! Then we bump into our good Polish friend Tomak in the Piazza and he is proudly riding his 1960’s Royal Enfield Bullet motorbike, which he has brought down from Poland. It had originated in England, then went to India for a few years before Tomak found it in Poland. It is a magnificent thing, big brown leather seats perched on giant springs and large wheels and Tomak always has a big smile on his face.

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Back at the villa, I am preparing for a visit to the UK for my mother’s 90th birthday on the 24th May. On my arrival, my mother opens the door and says, “Oh, you look just like my daughter June!” “I am your daughter June, Mum” “Oh, what are you doing here?” “I’m here to visit you, it’s your 90th birthday and we are going out to lunch,” I sigh. “Goodness gracious is that right, well you had better come in then!”

Thankfully, the journey is just a long weekend so I am back home in no time at all. On my return I find that Farty Barty the cat is doing his usual thing, disappearing for days on end and encouraging girlie cats to share his food when he is here.

On the subject of Dementia, our Adonis Silvio Berlusconi started his four hours a week social working in a nursing home for dementia sufferers. The inmates will no doubt have touched up their blue rinses, including the men, and slapped on face packs. However, a specialist when interviewed said that Silvio will have to get used to having to remind any patient he is feeding, that they are eating. I guess it is highly likely that they will have forgotten who SB is anyway; of course there’s also the chance that SB may forget to go home after his four hours. Back in his more glamorous world, Silvio was interviewed on Italian Radio 24, when he likened himself to Pope Francis. The interviewer asked him if he liked the Pope. “Yes, I really like him, he acts as Pope in exactly the same way I would act (as Pope)” he remarked cheerfully. “Does that mean that Pope Francis is a good Pope because he acts like you?” the interviewer asked rather naughtily. Silvio was quick to answer, “No, no, I am good because I resemble the Pope!”

Well, enough of that. Time to get ready to meet with our beautiful daughter and grandkids as its Father’s day here.

Have a great June and I’ll see you next month, Amore June x

Don’t forget to visit my author page and do drop me a line.

June Finnigan is an English expat who lives with husband Paul and Barty the cat in their lovely villa overlooking the Chianti Hills, in Tuscany.

June is a published Author and her first book 'My Father, The Assassin' is available on Amazon.


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