Italian neighbours

One of the nicest things about returning to our house in Lazio, apart from the weather, the food and the wine, is the fantastic welcome we always receive from everyone we know in the village. As soon as we go into the local mini market we get a welcome back even if we haven't been there for a year, at the local wine shop a handshake from all the staff and at the builders yard we both get a kiss from the manager, we are very good customers there. One afternoon we called in at the joiners as we need to replace a door panel, were invited into the house for drinks and came away with a basket of peaches and plums plus two bottles of homemade wine and an invitation to go for dinner sometime.
Our neighbours, three generation of one family who live separately in Rome but come out together to the country for weekends and the summer are particularly kind to us. Not so long after we bought the house I had woken early one sunny morning and wandered out into the garden wearing my dressing gown. My neighbour was up too and called me round though she doesn't speak English and I had little Italian at that time. She and I sat on her front porch drinking espresso, later joined by her daughter, all girls together still in our nightwear and I remember feeling so content. The neighbours always have us round during our stay, usually for fruit juice and ice cream so this year we were able to return the compliment but added a bottle of Prosecco to make an occasion. It was a lovely evening sitting out on the terrace with candles burning, lots of livey conversation and the grand finale at midnight was a firework display we all watched in the town across the valley.

We had a visit from our architect in Puglia, he came up with his girlfriend and her 11 year old son to discuss the trullo and stay overnight with us. I was feeling a bit nervous about cooking lunch for them all but determined to make an effort. Imagine my delight when I learnt that Antonella has a hotel and restaurant in Puglia, I told her I was terrified and she was very kind. My spaghetti was well received, Andrea said he wouldn't say it was good if it wasn't and Antonella said I cook like an Italian.
We had dinner that evening in a local restaurant and the next morning I set out a breakfast on the terrace. I had put out the butter though I know most Italians don't eat it and amongst the jams and preserves was Mr FF's jar of Vegimite. The young boy seemed to be intrigued by all things British and had already consumed several Tunnocks Caramel Wafers that I'd packed for the journey and not eaten plus a couple of individual cartons of Sainsbury's organic fruit juice. He and Andrea ate several pieces of buttered bread and Vegimite, even Antonella, who said she would only take coffee for breakfast, started buttering bread and adding jam. When they left I packed the rest of the biscuits and the Vegimite for them to take home, seemed the neighbourly thing to do though I didn't offer the butter.

Incidentally, we are still waiting for a price for the work to the trullo, having said we might start work in February, Andrea now says that if we agree a price work could start in September, still waiting for the price though and September is progressing.The top photo is our house, the bottom our village, I miss them both equally.