'I'll nip down and put the cars inside the garden then. it was 11 they needed them off the streets by wasn't it?' Bright sunshine suggested no coat - it would only take a couple of minutes.
In the garden a long file of pots holding unidentifiable and apparently dead twigs had appeared on the paved area. Moved those to similarly exposed position - dead twigs are very susceptible to light and shadow, shelter and frost exposure. Find large gates have rooted themselves to the ground since last opened on both sides. Fetch hammer and wallop the fixing thing at the bottom. Get gates to move. Drive little red car into garden and park so snugly I have to crawl out through the passenger side where I discover I have run over tendrils of ground cover particularly beloved of Mr HG. Hastily snip away evidence and hide in compost bin.
Locate landrover behind a Mass-goer's gleamingly polished Audi but heroic manoeuvres with one of the widest turning circles in any vehicle short of a tank gets me free and into the piazza, where the only way into the garden is in reverse as the landie is now facing the wrong way and more Mass-goers have closed down the options.
Having been away for some weeks I must now greet and be welcomed back by everyone on their way to church in their Sunday best while I am coatless and dressed for drinking coffee and reading the papers while desultorily putting the lunch on (fortunately I had taken off my pinny). The cold is biting through as well. Everyone directs the reversing of the landrover up the narrow, deceptively straight when actually curving vicolo, and a small party gather in the garden to gesticulate instructions about the gate posts. They are all waiting for me to hit something (or I am paranoid, or both). Once inside the only way out is through the cantine as the vehicles are now blocking the way. Small party is led through the house and waved off to church. Back in the piazza I get the Panda and drive it up to the gates ready for an early departure tomorrow morning. It is immediately blocked in by yet more intent on communicating with the Almighty and each other.
Finally get back into the kitchen frozen to the marrow, arms aching from heaving on steering wheels and plant pots, after nearly an hour. What a way to spend Sunday morning. I should have gone to Mass.
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3 comments:
Very brave re-parking the Landie, wonder what Prince Philip and Queen Elizabeth thought.On being stirred from their hibernation, I can just imagine them saying "we are not amused".
No trace of them yet, Anon. It's minus 6 here at night even when the daytime is full of sunshine. They'll be dug in along the church wall, or underneath the compost heap. When I have the chance I must read about hibernation - it's a very strange phenomenon; not like sleep at all.
Shan't be reversing in a narrow drive between curving stone walls in an lwb again either. But the shame if I'd had to get out and ask one of them to do it for me!
Good for you.
I cannot begin to imagine what minus 6 would be like day after day. Mind you, we have had our fair share of mother nature unleashing fire and flood in our part of the world. I've heard it said that Mother Nature is God's secretary, I think she needs a holiday! Will be awaiting news on the slow moving Royals in the garden come spring. C and A have been enquiring about their welfare.
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