Today is St Patrick's Day in Ireland, and pretty much here aswell since a coach load of young Irish are in town.

Now it is clear to the Italians that we are English (or German sometimes) because of various telltale indicators - 1) we do not wear clothes with Union Jack flags embroidered on the sleeves or chest, 2) we do not fondle (even) our own genitals in public and 3) I know which lane to be in at roundabouts...but the Irish go even a step further and wear large leprechaun hats, paint clover leaves on their cheeks and carry Irish flags.

The Italians love a saint-day, every day is the day of at least one saint, a child's saint day is celebrated as much as their birthday, the Irish obviously love today.

So why do the English not?

When is St George's day? Should I paint a red cross on my cheek and carry a flag? Do I get a day off? I think, unfortunately, not.

Instead of new ideas to swear patronage to the Queen, or to fly flags over council buildings, why not start giving everyone some reason to celebrate St George. England has it's issues, as does every country, but pride has to start somewhere in order to thrive.

Mind you, at least the UK does not employ the same PR people as South Africa.

On Sky News, South Africa Tourism is sponsoring a sports update segment, and has a nice graphic animation of the flag and a catchy slogan. For the purposes of the text where I can not strike thru a word I will use a different colour...but the slogan comes up on screen saying "South Africa. It's impossible." then a second later the "im" bit is crossed out. So...

"South Africa. It's impossible."

How long did this take, how much were they paid, and what alternatives did they reject before plumping for "It's impossible."?

South Africa, "It's not very nice." or
"Don't go there." or
"You can't go out at night." or even
"It's unlikely you will go home without being mugged."

We know some South Africans who live here now and they say it is a beautiful place, there are places to go and places to not go...but surely there are better slogans to use to entice tourists to go there.

I'll give it a go...

"Italy. Everyone drives really well and is very polite."

Gaw blimey Mary Poppins....it's March!

And it is crappy weather here in sunny Tuscany. Although the winter has been milder than Mellow Birds and less snowy than Tin-Tin's lap it seems that rain and wind has synchronized it's arrival with us unlocking the doors and whipping up a frenzy of gelati. I blame that God bloke I've heard so much about.

Anyway, since October - the last time I put finger to keyboard, what's gone down in groove town?

Firstly, and largely a cause of so much not-blogging was the death of a hard drive (or 3 in fact), so everything was put on hold until we could buy another laptop...and that had to be somewhere that spoke English - so England then.

We also lost a cat. Connor had been with us for nearly 18 years and, if you ignore all the urinating on the carpet she was a special companion and is sorely missed. She travelled well and enjoyed Tuscany. She was a star of television and internet and always will be with us.

We sold our house in the hills of Tuscany, www.casadiluce.com if you want to see what we had. A lovely house but too far away from the shop and too cold in the winter. Having taken about 2 years to sell it, we then bought again within a month!

We popped back to England for a while then started work on the kitchen (which we did not have) and the lounge (which we had, but did not like).

We finished that, then came back to work.

Nice break then!

So here we are, sitting waiting for customers. Reading the internet and filling in time...

Although I will not go into it here, I am feeling increasingly sad for the state of the UK. Daily we hear news and reports of what is going on there - binge drinking culture, knife culture, no culture, idiot teenagers and idiot government - and it really is scary. I am not saying Italy is any better or worse but I do know for sure that the UK used to be such a nice place to live - and visit! And now...I am not so sure.

It is absolutely tipping it down now so I think our work here is done.

So, hello to all our friends around the world, we do miss you (most of you) and hope to see or hear from you one fine day. I will summon some wit from the murky depths of my consciousness and bring you some biting satire and repartee some other day soon. I promise!

Also we have a new website for you to look at, the link is on the left of this page.

I'm off to ring out my underwear again.

C

Here in Lucca, much I expect like almost every other city in the tourist world, there is a bloke in white facepaint, wearing braces and a top hat, wandering around mime-ing, hugging passers by and presumably asking for hand-outs.

He is an okay kind of bloke, quiet (mostly) and unassuming. After all, he is a street entertainer - particularly for small children.

This morning, big however, he wanders up and starts complaining about something. I don't know what the problem was, or who the problem was, but he obviously is uncouthly unhappy. Then he begins directing his unpleasant demeanour at a guy walking toward us.

Maybe he had tried to get a hug out of this twenty-something-ipod-wearing-black guy (a chapter on "Know your target audience" torn from his library copy of "Street Entertaining for Dummies" perhaps...) and maybe black guy did not want smudges of white facepaint on his cheeks. For whatever reason, and whoever's fault - a full street row breaks out.

Lots of 'bring it on dude' and 'hey, don't touch me man!' later, the phrase " *&*! off back to your own country!" leaves the white painted lips of Marcel not-Marceau.

There are two possible outcomes to this chain of events, both situationally particular to Via San Paolino:

A: Every shopkeeper in the street joins in and kicks white-painted arse. You see, starting from the restaurant at the corner - and in order - the shops are managed by the safe hands of Pakistan, England, Canada, China, Romania, China again, Poland, and Canada again. There are two Italians in there aswell but they drown in the sea of multi-lingualism that is everyone else.

The phrase "go back to your own country!", if observed, will effectively cripple the city's income. I hear this week that one job in every 14 in the UK is occupied by an immigrant...I do not know the statistic for Lucca or Italy but based on Via San Paolino I suspect the figure is higher.

B: The two in discord beat the living crap out of each other.

However this is Italy. And what actually happened was

C: Nothing.

I know of no other country where C was going to be the outcome. Italians, or indeed Italian residents, seem (mostly anyway...no names mentioned) to not want to scuff their patent leather or ruffle their hair, or stretch their stretch jeans. But imagine for a second the reaction if you, in your town, stroll up to any passer-by and use the same phrase. Indeed.

So, this is Italy. Where everyone has a complaint, everyone has a moan, and all they do is wave at each other, make bizarre gestures and shout. It is infuriating, but it is at least not life threatening to be a bit belligerent.

The Segway, Simply Moving.

it says on the box (website actually, but box is punchier).

I can not think of a more boring way to move, it surely had a design brief of "a personal conveyor belt, a bit like an escalator but without the convenience of going up stairs." If it goes upstairs without the aid of a large cardboard box and a larger man with a much larger trolley then I apologise for my assumptive statement, however having walked up a flight of stairs in roller-boots (in my youth...) I think doing the same with 6 less wheels would be quite traumatic.

I wonder also if the man who designed it actually got a friend to design it while he himself had a couple of hours extra in bed because it absolutely is only bought by the world's most lazy of people.

You stand there - doing nothing. You don't even lean to the side to go round corners. You just stand there. The next add-on to it will probably be parking sensors off the back of a Ford Mondeo so you can just stand there and read the paper, looking ahead only if it beeps at you that someone or something is in the way.

There is a guy here in Lucca with one. He...what does he do, does he 'whizz' or 'hum', surely he does not 'zoom' or 'zip', maybe he 'segways' along up and down the 1000 year old streets looking like a fool who has been easily parted from his euros with the promise of "you will be the envy of the city, everyone will want one, and you can rent it out to tourists for fun sightseeing trips."

In fact he did try that for a while, he got someone to write him a board which he stuck to the front, offering 30 minute tries...but possibly everyone who saw him was reminded instantly of those poor puppies who have trolley wheels fitted after bad road accidents and did not see the marketing...so after a few days he got someone to take the sign away.

The weirdest thing about this is that some days he 'segs' along with 2 friends, one either side - having a bit of a chat. They walk, he just leans like a bored vicar on world cup final sunday delivering a sermon to an empty church on the evils of the devil scoring in injury time after a really dubious free-kick. So he leans, 'segging' along at walking speed...the 2 other guys walk. At walking speed.

It just looks strange. It reminds me of Captain Scarlet, or Joe 90, where the amazing marionettes could pull off pretty much any emotion, any weaponry usage, and a damn good impression of Cary Grant - but were ludicrously bad at walking.

This being Italy I half expect next time I see this guy to have a mini Segway, or Segwino, next to him with a dog riding it....ears flapping backwards in a light breeze, tongue hanging out staring at passing lamp posts (if they had lamp posts here - which they do not).

On the website they talk of police & military applications...and they say "Experience the unrivaled rebirth of community policing when you utilize Segway PTs in your force." and "Simplify and streamline your military applications with Segway's range of cost-effective government solutions". Ed-209 was supposed to be the future of policing in the community, with military functionality...oh dear.

One last thought is that Segway...is a bit like Sega...could it possibly be a derivative? If so, in Italian it has slightly different personally gratifying connotations.

Lets just say it takes ages to be this good.

It is September...but still they keep coming.

3 American ladies came in yesterday, looked about a bit, then one asked "DOOO YOOOUUU MAAAKE YOUR ICE CREAM HERE???", I replied that yes we do. Not phased or maybe even noticing that I spoke English she continued "Only we have been told that if the Pistachio is that bright green colour, it means that it was not made here."

"I see", I replied. "It still might mean it is made on site, but it does mean it is not made using much pistachio.

'And that bright green one there..." I pointed..."is Mint."
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People react in different ways when you speak back in English...most seem not to notice, perhaps their brain convinces them that they suddenly understand Italian, or they just think they are back at home. Others ignore it and continue talking in pigeon Italian, emphasising every word and pointing a lot. This is fine and I am pleased that they make the attempt, although many Italians will understand English they will still feel appreciation that you try.

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Another question I was asked recently by a customer, English this time....was
"I would like two ice creams in cones, but can we do one at a time please?"

And the alternative is.....?

I have learned 2 things this week...one is a disappointment and the other a revelation which explains many things...

The learny one first. I now believe that mosquitoes have the natural ability to cross the barriers of time and space - in fact they seemingly have mastered inter-dimensional travel.

My undeniable evidence for this comes in many forms - number one is that when you lie in bed at night and they find their way into the room (through closed windows!!!), they do a fly-by and buzz less than 2mm from your ear....you immediately leap to switch the light on and spend 2 hours searching a 3 metre square room with no success.

Number 2 is that you can be going about your business quite normally - not feel a thing - and within a millisecond they arrive, sink their tiny proboscis into your ankle and vanish again. If enough get you on the ankle and you fall over - that's it, it's over. They are like a pack of hungry wolves once you're down.

Here's a thing to support number 2. However quickly I can move on an empty stomach...I am certain that if I drank 4 times my body weight in blood I doubt I could fall on the floor quickly - let alone fly to a safe part of the wall waving my nose in victorious sarcasm.

Number 3 is my most damning evidence. You see the stripy little bugger flying around - happy as Larry the sandboy...you bide your time...you swipe out and close your hand around the space she occupies...you see that nothing escapes your grip. You open your hand and - nothing.

The answer is clear - inter-dimensional travel.

Now you know.

The other thing I learned....a little sadder (if that were possible).

We went to a "Sagra" last weekend with some friends of ours, who can be read on... www.simplyputphotos.blogspot.com.

A Sagra is like a village festival with local food produce, locally cultivated wine, music and dance etc etc. This one, in Aquilea, was particularly varied. You could drink your sangria, eat you horse steak and win a full nativity scene in a tombola...

But it was the music and dance that was worthy of note. Initially our interest was taken by the wonderfully diverse playlist the dj had chosen...from the full "Happy Days" theme to the Italian "Simple Simon Says"...somewhat like a bad wedding but only somewhat.

any road up, to the point. He played YMCA.

Regardless of the fact that locally this would be called "Ypsillon, Emma, Chee, Ahh", the letters are remarkable similar in appearence, but not one person present knew how to dance to it.

Like Coca-Cola, I assumed that if you took it to a group of pygmys in the Amazon rain forest you would have bruised knees before the end of the first chorus...not much like coke but you get my drift.

But Italy - not a clue.

Ho-hum.

In the past 2 months we have had two (that we are aware of) well-known people purchase our wares. The first was an Australian actor who was a Dr in Crossroads on UK TV some 35 years ago...

The second, who visited today, is a British comedy actor - a very talented man who is very popular back in the UK. This man has an enormously famous catchphrase, which presumably he has shouted at him - or is requested to say wherever he goes.

We resisted this, as it must be incredibly irritating to be known for one thing, and seemingly one thing only, to be haunted by it, and to have it used by people who think they know you simply because they have seen you in a magazine or on the television...

So we did not say immediately 'I don't believe it!', we did not say 'ooh, I have a friend who does this great impression of you, go on, say it, say 'I don't believe it!'', we did not even mention it cleverly with our unusually finely honed and crafted Great British subtlety.

We did well.

He, however, did ask us 'so what are 2 english people doing selling ice cream in italy?'.

I know that hats are a complicated issue....they are a part of an image, part of a uniform, a statement, a functional item or merely a hat. Baseball caps particularly so.

Peak forward, peak oblique or peak backwards is an obvious starting point for fashion comment, it depends where you are, what nationality, what the weather is doing etc etc...pretty much everything can be explained away.

However......

There is a guy, probably around 17 years old I would guess, who comes in to the shop every so often. Nice guy, quite polite, happy and smiley.

But he wears his baseball cap in a very odd way. Now Italy is the fashion capital of the world - they say...so having explained this style to you I expect to see it echoed in the global media, on the red carpet and even on the golf course. If you can create a picture in your minds for a second, you need to tighten the adjustment to give the cap as small a circumference as possible, making sure the cap is stiff and stands erect...then just balance it on the centre of your head.

If that is hard to imagine just think of a boil on an orange.

How it stays on is anyone's guess, perhaps it is pinned, perhaps he has a hamster inside it holding it down with it's little paws, perhaps it has nested in there and will only come out in the spring, I don't know.

I have tried wearing mine this way, and I just look ridiculous.

As if a hat can make that much difference....

Ice cream is a funny old business.

2 years ago we laughed when it was suggested we buy this place, we knew nothing about it at all. I knew I liked ice cream, but how you make it, how you maintain it, how you sell it? Not a clue. But I guess you don't pack up your house and move 1200 miles to keep doing what you always did. It is pointless stepping out of your comfort zone if you pack it together with your socks and selected cd's, dust it down and set it on your new mantelpiece ready to be re-entered when the opportunity arrives.

Mind you, lots of us do exactly that, and I think that is why some ex-pats create their own little britain in their backyards. Familiarity is not something to be taken lightly...it is a serious matter...especially when it is not part of your life anymore. Does it breed contempt? No, I don't think so...I think lots of other things do such as frustration, stress and ruts (ones you are stuck in) but familiarity perhaps only breeds boredom.

So here we are. We sell ice cream to the italians. And Germans. And French, English, Australians etc etc. In fact, pretty much everyone except the Japanese. Strange.

Tuscany in July...it is supposed to be so hot you could fry pasta fritta on the strade...okay, it is 32 degrees c today, which is nice, but last year you could safely add 5 or 6 to that and be underestimating.

Being english, the weather is one of my biggest conversation topics. Being english in Italy with a sparse grasp of the language, and being a gelataio (ice cream man) - it is a massive conversation topic. Especially the intricacies which affect my income, which is a daily learning experience.

We shall see how July progresses...