A sausage stealer makes an appearance

The year we left England was a special birthday for Julian. 

In the early autumn, waiting to move into the restored cowshed, we pulled our mattress out onto the terrace of the flat & slept under the stars. Night after night I felt the dawn air dampening. I abandoned him to sleep inside. 

He was suddenly ravaged by an attack of Rheumatoid Arthritis. His hands swelled up so much he couldn't hold a toothbrush or knife & fork. Weak & wasted, he was unable to get out of bed for days. When he could walk, we visited a rheumatologist called Mr Hyacinth who put him on Methotrexate & steroids. The inflamed joints calmed down & his spirits rose. 

Undeterred by vestigial discomfort, he wanted to throw caution to the winds & celebrate his birthday. We'd go for it big time.

Italians live the moment in primary colours. 

They need no excuse for celebration. 

We were up for it & so were they. 

We'd 'festeggiare' Julian's seventieth with friends old & new.

There's a festa for everything in Italy. 

On December 8th Catholics celebrate the Immaculate Conception of the Virgin Mary - Jesus was conceived on this day, courtesy of the Holy Spirit. 

Supposedly. 

It's one of the most important days in the religious calendar. 

Despite it being so close to Christmas, Italians regularly go away for the weekend. 

Work stops & play begins. 

The 8th was Julian's birthday.

English allies were due in Le Marche on trains & planes. 

Julian's French sister in law, his half brother, his aunt plus his two sons & one of their girlfriends. 

Acquaintances from his life before me & an ex lover. 

I found this association hard to cope with at first but after ten years I'd got used to their constant meetings. 

We'd been to parties at her house in South London & she'd directed Julian in a one man show - you can't get much more intimate than that, male actor & female director. It's only a step away from the naked & the physical. 

In fact it is the naked & the physical but hey, who cares! If you have deep love & implicit trust, it's liveable with.

The family contingent arrived the day before.

A large holm oak overhangs the road down to our house. We met their hire car as they pulled up under the tree.

'Hello darling, you lovely thing!' Auntie Mari said, twining herself round Julian's neck. 

' 

'Can you get my bloody stick out for me. Where the hell are we?'

'Italy, Mari.'

'And who the hell is this?' she said turning to me.

We piled into the 'soggiorno' or sitting room where the cattle had lived before us. I made a pot of tea.

'Tea! Give me whisky, darling!' Mari demanded.