Lying on the couch last night watching TV I was alarmed to see a figure flit across the terrace and rushed out to investigate to find Elisabet had popped round from next door to invite me to Mimingo's sixty second birthday party. I had just eaten but thought "what the hell" I should be a good neighbour and look in.
It was, as ever, an enjoyable and entirely undemanding evening. I played hide and seek with the little ones, Domenica and Leandra, then sat down with the family and a few friends to eat and drink some home-made wine. Mimingo's son Georgio showed me his growing collection of tatoos and everyone asked after Sue. To be honest much of the animated conversation was in local dialect and entirely incomprehensible. But I'm used to letting words wash over me and glean what meaning I can whilst nodding and smiling sagely.
Erminia sat quietly on the sofa for most of the evening, preoccupied I suspect with the fierce pain in her arthritic hip, but I was delighted to get this photo of her and her great granddaughter Leandra.
One of the great things about socialising in Italy is that Italians know when to leave. No standing at the door for hour after hour summoning up the gumption to say "goodbye". Round about eleven everyone just stands up and says "right, I'm off" and then, wonder of wonders, they ... go. Amazing.
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