Mid-winter blues

I hate January. Our house is a thousand feet above sea level, so even though we are in the South of Italy it is cold and often damp at this time of the year. Right now it is hard to believe that in July and August the land will be dry and baked and the temperature on our terrace will often climb above forty five centigrade.

Many local people have a house in the country and an apartment in the town, to which they retreat in the winter. When Sue and I first came here we thought this an eccentric and old-fashioned lifestyle, but the more winters we have spent here the more I can understand why people do it. Apartments are easy to keep warm, there is very little to do on the land at this time of year and if you get bad frost or snow the roads are hazardous as practically no gritting or snow clearance is done.

Being of peasant stock Erminia has no apartment in town and she goes into virtual hibernation. The only source of heat she has in her old stone house is the hearth on which she slowly burns a small log or two at a time and mostly she stays within a few feet of it, including moving from her bedroom to a small sleeping alcove opposite the fire. The first winter after we came here I remember visiting Erminia and seeing her sat on a plastic chair next to the hearth. As I came in and sat opposite her I was taken aback to be greeted by her late husband Paolo who was still in bed in the little alcove. He was a small man and looked like a little gnome with his head poking out of the blankets swathed in a woollen night cap.

I think I may take a leaf out of old Paolo's book and stay in bed until Spring arrives.