The Coldiretti (direct cultivators, effectively small farmers) called today. There are to be major demonstrations in regional capitals in favour of increased provision from the European Union and the Italian government for support to agriculture.
ABSOLUTELY!
We are to march through the centre of Florence, banners waving, drums beating like the Rites of Spring, for more money for the olive-picking classes. I do not know if we will be emptying tractor loads of agricultural waste on the steps of the Comune di Firenze in the piazza della Signoria, or lading the square with a kind of harvest festival. Or whether that should be the seat of regional government; indeed, I don't know where the seat of regional government is, but I'm sure my fellow marchers will take me there.
Nor am I sure what we will be singing as many of the independent yeomanry are well to the right of centre . Best if I brush up on Giovinezza as well as Bella Ciao this evening.
Now, what shall I wear?
Florence centre = tailleur, tights, heels and gloves (and that's just the men). Labourer in the fields and vineyards of Tuscany = boots, trousers and windproof jacket.
I wonder where I could get some tailored wellingtons.
Update
We're to take the tractors. Mine's a red Lamborghini. And the animals - lovely white chianini, in pairs, with their plaited manes and tails in red ribbons, tiny delicate feet hoofing it along the Calzaiuoli. Flocks of woolly sheep on the Lungarni.
Now I know what we shall sing:
'di doman non c’ รจ certezza. '
So we'd better have some money now.
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