Category: journal

Well, that’s possibly a little unfair as a title for this post.  But, while Neve is a phenomenal wit with a deeply loving core and one of the brightest lights in my life, she is also, at least currently, a highly-strung, emotional creature who is prone to react hyperbolically to context-change in a manner which is very hard to react to in a sanguine, rational manner. In fact, she quite often makes me one to bop her one on the nut.

Dinner-time is a good example. As is stop-watching-tv-time. Or tooth-brushing time. Or… well, like I said: context change. It really is best to factor in a ten-minute gap between $thing and $next_thing. She screams and shouts in a supremely irritating pseudo-language composed of goos and gahs.

 

She is just amazing. A sharp, sharp, deeply loving girl with a powerful imagination and the ability to narrate it. Which she does, incessantly, around the house with her dolls, or her pets, or with whatever props are to hand, or with none.

She is kind and thoughtful. And her capacity for remembering things (yes: her memory) is phenomenal. [citation needed] (Which is not to say that the fact is in doubt but simply that I should add an example to liven up an otherwise verbose and dreary text.)

 

 

Not going to be able to call her “Tiny Neve” for very much longer, given that she’s now six year’s old.

A week’s stress and anxiety over party preparations resolved, amazingly enough, into a fairly relaxed and focussed day. We all got up early and worked quietly and with concentration at our various tasks: Lola made the “pin the ice-cream to the cone” drawing and blew up balloons; Isa prepared for the art session – gathering inks, brushes, paper – and prepared the ice-cream parlour; Neve ensured that everyone was doing the appropriate job, otherwise engaging herself in playing with her new Sylvanian family; I prepared ingredients for cake-making and blew up balloons.

Isa went out shopping while we others continued with the in-house prep; the girls’ attention dwindling, they wandered off to play. The rest of the preparations all came together well and without explosions of emotion. A win!

I made the cake: a victoria sponge spread with Nutella (actually, an organic Italian hazelnut and chocolate spread called Nocciolata which is even more yummier) and whipped cream in the centre with a tasteful powder-blue butter-cream icing on top. We decorated it with mini-cones with a marshmallow plonked in the top. It was, in case I’ve not mentioned it, an ice-cream-themed party.

Anyway, enough plodding through the preparations. Suffice it to say we were ready and relaxed when the guests started to arrive. Emily Sutton, Rosie (of Erika and Chris), Sophie (of Jenny, whom I had not met and is friendly and interesting), Charleigh (pronounced “Charlie”, not sure why the spelling; has an amazing voice), and Alma (of Sarah and web-designy bloke whose name I don’t know).

Initial play with balloons (we’d blown up about 30) and mad screaming around the house settled easily enough into “build a huge ice-cream with a cardboard cone and a million balloons (OK, OK: 30)” which segued easily enough into having a snack (fruit, vegetables, mozzarella) around the table. Sophie was unexpectedly (and near shockingly) manic — Isa took her out of the room for A Word after she (lightly) stabbed Emily in the head with a cocktail stick.

Then followed a “design your ice-cream” activity which went amazingly well – they quite possibly spent half an hour in concentrated effort. Isa had some really nice acrylic inks that she rationed out by the drop as it was requested and this helped keep the palette small and strong. And kept the mess down!

Once the designs were in, they went off to Lola’s ice-cream parlour to get their design (or something else they randomly fancied) made up. Rosie had the spaghetti ice you see Lola making here. Raspberry/tomato sauce and grated white chocolate/parmesan: yum!

There were Coca-Cola floats and classic cups and wondrous cones with toppings a-plenty.

They spent so much time designing and then eating ice-cream that parents came to collect before we’d done the cake or played either of the games we’d lined up. The kids were insistent we played pass-the-parcel, so we did; with Neve running the music, rather than taking part. She knew exactly what she wanted and jumped onto YouTube to find the Horrible Histories songs about Henry VIII.

And, amazingly after all that ice-cream, cake was still wanted, as was the whole singy celebration, so (thanking parents for their patience) we gathered round the table and finished off in the traditional way.

Chaffinch, Blue Tit , Chaffinch, Chaffinch, Great Tit, Blue Tit.
Repeat ad infinitum and there you have it: Spring 2015

Kids super-excited to come to Italy. Dad came down with acute flu/chest-infection which kept him immobile for first week. It’s a long while since I felt that bad — couldn’t even read, I was so enfeebled. And coughing was miserably painful. And I couldn’t sleep. Made mistake of going out on one day when I felt a bit better (we went to Chioggia — odd, sub-Venetian small town with slightly pikey feel to population). Next day I was utterly awful; tried to go and see a doctor but they wouldn’t see me – were told to go to Pronto Soccorso, but sod that! Went to the pharmacist in Paderno and lady there was extremely helpful and gave me a course of Amoxycillin (+ clavulanic acid). That helped, and by Easter Sunday I was just about clear of it.

Monday kept it quiet at home. Giada and Samuele offered to take the kids to the beach for a “quick walk”. We said yes, having to make a quick decision, and then immediately regretted it. We should, in hindsight, have called them back but decided it would be OK as they had said “a quick walk”. They left around 11.30 and we reckoned they should  be back by 4pm. We rang at 5, assuming they were nearly home, but they were only just leaving then. Not sensible, as they were at Punta Sabione — single-road access down a popular spit of land in the Venice lagoon. They got home at 10pm! Isa and I were complete wrecks; as, of course, were the kids…

Meanwhile that same afternoon, Marino and Duccio had come round to pick stiuppetti (or whatever they’re called) in the field. We went out for a walk around the fields with Bruna, Renzo, Morena and Claudio while we were waiting for Marino to arrive. Picked some bruscandoli (just enough for a risotto the next day). We saw Marino and Duccio from across the field and went to find them and then chatted while we helped pick. We left them picking: I think Marino put in another hour or two…

Then Tues, we went into Treviso for a bit of a wander around. Found a good wine shop near the wall carpark that sold wine into your own (or their) bottles. Next door was a bike shop full of highly desirable bits and bobs.

Weds Isa went in to Treviso for a hair cut. Thursday we went to Venice and spent nine hours wandering around. Bought all-day passes for vaporetti; went to Murano. Rialto, Zatteri,… good route, captured  in ViewRanger.

Neve has it.

 

I am NOT eating any of that.

I am NOT going outside today.

I am NOT stopping. I am only eating.