What a start to the day! We have so got to get into the Italian way of early rising, and fast, if we're not to have any more repeats of this morning's rude awakening.
We weren't even that late getting up! 8.15am's not late, is it? We were sort of up. I was in the kitchen making a cup of tea (to take back to bed) and KP was in his "office". "Oh my God, they're here" came the pained cry from the bathroom. Not wanting to be caught out in my jim jams and bed head hair, I made a dive for the bathroom as KP was diving out and into the nearest pair of jeans, thankfully his.
Ian, Carole and a pair of Romanians were walking up our drive! Having bumped into them in the village, Ian had grabbed them and promptly delivered them to us personally to clear all our rubbish. Absolutely brilliant! And well worth the wake up call.
|The clearance has begun!|
The negotiating began. €150 for the whole lot. And that includes clearing and gutting the barns too. He would also, but not today, strip and remove all the corrugated tin from the end make shift barn. Good man. We shook on it, the two Romanians left, leaving behind an Italian (as wide as he was high) and a truck. He may have been wide and rather round but, boy, did that man work!
The truck got higher and higher as our rubbish pile got lower and lower. We tried to help out, KP was successful, but every time I so much as picked up a broom, bin liner or piece of junk it was met with a stream of Italian, much gesticulating and an expression of mortal offence. Women don't do men's work. Full stop.
But I was needed to help KP shift a large, ancient and sadly unsalvageable dresser. First we had to empty the drawers. First drawer pulled open. Scream. Run. Oh my God. There's something in there. "No there's not" says KP, "that's where I've stored the rat poison".
Well, that worked then.
|The offending dresser and a not so brave KP|
Not only was there a rat in the rat poison drawer, but also a very cosy nest and probably a bunch of babies too.
Commanding proceedings from a great height, well out of rat reach and with the bottom of my jeans tightly secured from any scarpering rodent (just in case), I sent KP back in. Great entertainment! I certainly had a few private chuckles to myself. Not quite so brave, hey KP?! He did manage to clear the dresser, but it was done at arms length and with an expression of sheer terror. Many times KP almost leapt up to join me in my out of reach command post.
Eventually the rat clearance was completed and the dresser was loaded onto the truck. Not long after, the barns and our rubbish pile were blissfully empty and swept clean. Bloody good work. Would have taken us a week.
Eventually, both men established their rankings and respect, shook hands, slapped backs and laughed. €200. Cheap at the price, if you ask me, and it looks like we also have some new friends and allies.
|Our new upstairs bedroom|
As the rain was now coming down in sheets, we spent what was left of the day on inside jobs. Me moving our bedroom upstairs and sorting the guest room. KP wielding a sledge hammer in the newly cleared barn, knocking down an old concrete pig sty, using the rubble to start our carpark.
Just as we were settling in for the night, we had more visitors. Roberto from down the lane, and his Ukranian wife. Roberto, clearly very distressed, managed to explain that the upper tier behind our house which KP had cleared and where Rosemary had been put out to grass, was not ours. It belonged to the Swiss over the road. No vostro, no vostro. He kept saying. Not yours, not yours. Rosemary must go. Subito. Straight away. What is he talking about? Of course it's ours! Its right next to our house, on our side of the road, the road is our boundary, said Geometra Fabio. It's on our deeds.
The said deeds were promptly brought out, the land map examined and a site visit made. Not easy in the pitch black of the evening, but it did look as though that triangle of land did actually belong to the Swiss opposite.
Rosemary we'll move in the morning, and a few words we'll have with Geometra Fabio when he returns from America next week. More than a few words. I'm beginning not to like Geometra Fabio.