The Well in Pollone Chapter One

Coat of Arms: Piedmont

In northern Italy there is a province known to the world as Piedmont. It is an area that for centuries has been invaded by Romans, Burgundians and Goths. It has been annexed and re-invaded by Byzantines, Lombards and Franks. Magyars and the Saracens couldn't keep their hands off the Celtic-Ligurian tribes such as the Taurini and Salassi who were attempting to live their lives quietly and peaceably, till eventually the whole area was incorporated into the Holy Roman Empire as the Kingdom of Piedmont; after which it was subsequently subdivided and shared around.

The largest, and eventually the capital city; Turin or Torino, as the Piedmontese like to refer to it in their quaint little Piedmontese ways, became increasingly more wealthy and more important as the Duke of Savoy became King of Sardinia, founding what evolved into the Kingdom of Sardinia-Piedmont.

Piedmont then became a Republic under the French and subsequently, with Genoa, a buffer state between the Austrian Empire and the French Empire. The country was then dragged unwillingly into the Austro-Hungarian Empire.

On the Unification of Italy, the House of Savoy, the Ruling House of Piedmont, became the Ruling House of Italy.Turin, the capital, was briefly the capital of a unified Italy; the Capital was then moved to Florence, and eventually to Rome.

All Piedmont must have sighed a collective sigh of relief. Too much history… far too much.

Torino - As the Piedmontese will have it

Knee deep in other people's genes and DNA and all the rest of it.

Every wave of Conquerors and Annexers and Incorporators left their mark and samples of their genes on (and in) the long suffering Taurini and Salassi. But they, the original inhabitants, if watered down somewhat by all this invasion and annexation, were a phlegmatic crowd, and took it all in their stride.

So by the time I arrived in Piedmont on a hot August day some years after all this confusion, one would have noticed very little upheaval.

The eventual mixture became the delightful Citizenry of Piedmont as it is known today. The Piedmontese are affable, charming, shallow in the most delightful way and the most welcoming and hospitable group of people one would ever wish to be with or to dine with.

Baptistry - Biella
Baptistry - Biella

An Italian friend of mine, Umberto, had insisted that I visit him in Italy; more specifically in Piedmont. Umberto was the personal assistant to one of the designers in a fashion house in Milan, and so was based more or less in Italy, but they also had an apartment and office in Paris and also in London. He wanted to show me around his own home village, but said he was never sure when he would be needed to fly here or there for his employer, so to treat him like a moveable feast; if he could be there he would, but, “mia casa; sua casa” or more correctly, “la mia casa è la tua casa”. Regardless of whether he would be there or not, he had put his home at my disposal and hoped to be able to spend some time there and introduce me to his friends.

He told me that I would love his village, not only for its rustic charm; for its friendliness, but also he knew my sense of humour. The village, which lay near the town of Biella, was named Pollone.

Pollone… the exact translation of the name of his village is, “Big Chicken”.

So I was going to spend a couple of weeks in the little village of Big Chicken.

It was in the middle of August that I had first arrived in Biella, a large town 59 miles / 95 kilometres fromTurin. I had travelled from Rome by train and arrived in the late morning of what promised to be a very hot day.

While on the train I had been collared by a flamboyant Old Queen who wanted to tell me virtually every detail of his trip from somewhere in North Devon to the train we were travelling in from the Roman Campagna to Piedmont. He had been looking forward to this trip for most of the year and had been studying the Italian language so that he could “chat to the natives” as he put it. He was wearing an obviously expensive cream linen suit with a pale blue silk shirt, and a magenta cravat, he certainly looked the “Englishman abroad”, even to the wide brimmed straw hat he had on the carriage table before him,

“The sun, dear. These foreign suns are so fierce. One’s complexion, dear!”.

As we had passed Pisa, he pointed out the tower, which we could see from the train as we travelled north, and clapped his hands together. He certainly was enjoying himself, and I found him and his manner to be very peasant, if a little wearing. He insisted on telling me about every meal that he had had since arriving in Italy; every single meal, in the minutest detail; all the interesting people and and and…

“My dear,” he said, leaning towards me and touching me playfully on the knee, “I had such fun in Rome at the main railway station. I mislaid my little overnight bag”, and here he patted the cream leather travelling case beside him on the seat, “I went to those lovely men at the Lost and Found counter and I said, to them, I said, ‘Ho perso la mia balia. Riesci a trovare per me?’ and the lovely chaps, dear, there were two of them, dear, they laughed and laughed… Oh they were so sweet.

"I’d meant to say: ‘I’ve had lost my baggage. Can you find it for me?’ which would have been all right, but instead of saying: ‘Ho perso il mio bagaglio. Riesci a trovare per me?’, I’d made a mistake and instead of saying I’d lost my baggage, I said I had lost my wet nurse’”


With this The Old Queen smiled, and said, partly to himself and partly to me, “Bagaglio, balia… so funny. I shrieked, dear. Can you imagine someone like me needing a wet nurse? Lovely boys they were… Lovely”.

Eventually we arrived at the San Paulo railway station in Biella. Umberto had told me that business had called him away unexpectedly and that he would be away for a couple of days but would make sure that I would be able to gain access to his home where I would be staying. He had phoned me shortly before I left London to tell me that Anna would take care of me.

Basically I see myself as a vile and wicked woman who needs forgiveness so that I can travel to heaven with a pure soul.
Basically I see myself as a vile and wicked woman who needs forgiveness so that I can travel to heaven with a pure soul.

“I am a vile and wicked woman, yet please forgive me, my beloved father, before I die”

I was met at the station by Anna. A young woman dressed completely in black; black shirt, black trousers, black boots, but not at all mannish; pure feminine elegance in black. I have no idea who this Anna person was but she was charming and although I spoke no Italian apart from a couple of vaguely useless phrases and she spoke even less English, we made each other understand, more or less, what we had to convey. Regardless of language restrictions, we took to each other immediately.

My Italian was very basic and completely inappropriate for modern-day Italy. What few words I had managed to accumulate were from reading the libretti for Italian Operas, which I love. But a lot of the sung dialogue deals with sentences such as “I love you more than life itself, and only God can part us now,” (This is one of those pivotal moments in an opera where one knows, whether it had occurred to one earlier or not, that nearly everybody is going to come to a sticky end and there’s likely to be a lot of blood and a lot of singing while that goes on.)

Another group of words I had picked up were something to the effect of. “Blood! Blood, Must these lands ever be drenched in the blood of innocents?” One of my all time favourites and certainly one of the best is: “I am a vile and wicked woman, yet please forgive me, my beloved father, before I die”. All very well to hum along to and shed a few tears to, but basically useless when one wants to buy half a kilo of oranges at a stall beside the road.

So I had gone to Italy armed with “Ti amo più della vita stessa, e solo Dio ci può parte adesso,” and “Sangue! Sangue, devono essere sempre queste terre intrisa del sangue di innocenti”.

But what purveyor of fresh vegetables wants to be told that the man, standing in front of him, squeezing his lemons: “Sono una donna vile e malvagia, ma ti prego perdonami, mio amato padre, prima di morire”?

I mean, to him I might have looked like a gentleman customer, but to be told I was dying and thought he was my father and wished his forgiveness because I was a vile, ungrateful, wicked woman, would have been difficult to swallow at any time. Even if one were an Italian fruit seller beside the road inPiedmont.

Sangue, sangue and all that business.

Mertilli
Mertilli

The Old Queen had eaten a cat on the train.

So we arrived in Biella and Anna took me to a bar where I immediately ordered a glass of water and then a limonata; it was so hot, and I was parched. Then, as I wasn’t hungry, and I didn’t want to embarrass myself with my Italian too early in the proceedings, I said that a caffè espresso would be wonderful. Anna insisted that I should try mirtilli. I had no idea what these were, but she insisted and ordered mirtilli from the waiter who returned shortly with two large glasses of the most delicious little blue berries, with sugar, if needed, and cream. The taste was amazing and I just had the lovely little berries, plain.

The Old Queen, who was still attached to me, slightly, spoke from an adjacent table where he sat with his hand flapping around in the air. A cigarette occasionally tap tap tapping into the ashtray.

“Those look delicious. But I’m not sure if I could eat even one of the precious little things…” He turned to Anna, and in a somewhat conspiratorial manner said, flexing his linguistic muscles, “Ho mangiato un gatto sul treno,” and turning to me, simpered, “The language is so easy once you try, dear”.

Italians love it when we English speakers attempt to use their lovely language, and never laugh if we make any mistakes with words, but I could see that Anna was delighted to learn that he has eaten a cat on the train. To his mind, gatto and gateau were close enough. Inflection was his undoing. Then realising that he had made a mistake, he enquired where he had gone wrong. Anna explained, haltingly, with tears springing to her eyes. Was it emotion at the thought of the poor little cat having been eaten on the train or was she simply laughing because of the mistake. One would have thought the former… or maybe not.

“Tra la la,” he sang:

“You say, gatto and I’ll say gateau;

You say bagaglio and I’ll say balia

Let’s call the whole thing off.

Potato, potahto, tomaito, tomaahto

Let’s call the whole thing off”.

And with that he took a last sip from his caffè, adjusted his cream linen jacket around his shoulders and swanned off;

“I’ve got a train to catch. Arrivederci!” and he was gone.

More mirtilli

We finished our mirtilli and having decided against another caffè espresso, Anna indicated that she was ready to take me to Pollone and show me where I would be living for the nest few days. We soon found her little FIAT where she had parked it in an open area behind the railway station and as soon as I was in the passenger seat she took off at an alarming speed.

Once out of Biella, the roads were relatively free of traffic. We drove through endless fields of sunflowers, and the occasional huge signpost, showing an attractive young lady in absolute ecstasy because she was rubbing her cheek against a fluffy cardigan; a Persian cat beside her looking smugly out of the picture. This indicated that one would not be a complete person without being covered in “Lana Gatto” which I took to be a type of wool noted for its similarity to cats’ hair or fur.

Here and there we saw a large building proclaiming that: Mobili were available there. I looked at these as we drove past and mimicked someone driving, but Anna shook her head. I discovered subsequently that they were furniture stores. The Italians love furniture and their apartments show this; elegant to the extreme. But for some reason, they feel inclined to drive out into the countryside to look at them and perhaps buy them.

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Comments 35 comments

Sunnie Day 5 years ago

Good Morning Ian,

Okay I will be first..wonderful story and exceptional writing as always..I can't wait for the next chapter. I am sure it is going to wonderful. I love that as I read I am right there with you. Learning more about culture and besides being very entertaining. Thank you my friend.Up and Awesome!

Sunnie


Twilight Lawns profile image

Twilight Lawns 5 years ago from Norbury-sur-Mer, Surrey, England. U.K. Author

For you, Sunnie, I will publish the next chapter as soon as possible. Hope having the grandchildren isn't having adverse effect on your back pain.

Thanks for being the first. I hope you enjoy the next chapter(s) as much as this. And thanks loads for pointing out the squidging together of the words.


Sunnie Day 5 years ago

Thank you Ian..back pain..oh it is on going..I just pray time will make it better..when I am moving..it is good..just the sitting and getting up in the morning..Need a couple prayers..thank you my friend, thank goodness they are not toddlers right now..I can just point and direct them lol.

You are so welcome..the words pushed together did that to me too..I don't know why..really weird.

Looking forward to the next one..I am so glad you were able to link all the chapters I see on the other hub..I look at all the chapters and stand amazed..such a wonderful thing.

X

Sunnie


A.A. Zavala profile image

A.A. Zavala 5 years ago from Texas

I have some catching up to do. The Piedmont is very beautiful with a tragic history. The Waldensians were massacred there by a Catholic army in the 1600's. They were considered a protestant type movement, and were excommunicated by the Catholic church. John Milton wrote a poem about it titled "On the Late Massacre in Piedmont."

So, this a fictional story? The reason I ask is because your "Old Queen" sounds like a man who tried to pick me up off the street in Kitzingen, Germany. It was 1989, and I had to stand outside and wait for my friends to come home. It was snowing, and I was standing underneath a light post. I guess he thought I was a prostitute. He was walking by, and began asking me in German what am I up to. He offered me gum, and 100 Deustch marks. I declined, and after a bit realized what he was trying to do. MY friends thought it was funny, but I never did.


steve of ian fame profile image

steve of ian fame 5 years ago from Essex

Now, just where does one meet with the Italians unspoilt?


Twilight Lawns profile image

Twilight Lawns 5 years ago from Norbury-sur-Mer, Surrey, England. U.K. Author

A.A., I'm glad you wondered about the accuracy of the description of The Old Queen. I must have painted him pretty well. Actually, he was the only fabrication in the story. I based him on a couple of characters I know, but that is as far as I am prepared to go, unless I am put under oath.

Interesting about your little meeting with the German gentleman. Was 100 Deutschmarks worth a lot... or the gum?

I think I would have been tempted. No! Joking there.

Thanks for coming to read, and crossing over from Sunnie Day Land. I appreciate your visit.


Twilight Lawns profile image

Twilight Lawns 5 years ago from Norbury-sur-Mer, Surrey, England. U.K. Author

I must ask Eleanor Lavish, Steve. I am sure she would maintain the Goths had something to do with it all.

Thanks for coming and having a little read. I appreciate your visit, very much.


A.A. Zavala profile image

A.A. Zavala 5 years ago from Texas

Lol! I would hope I was worth more than a piece of gum! My friends actually debated the same thing. One of my friends, a female, said that the both the gum and Deustch marks was a good deal. She said I looked like I had some mileage on me.


Twilight Lawns profile image

Twilight Lawns 5 years ago from Norbury-sur-Mer, Surrey, England. U.K. Author

Ha ha! That was so funny. Well done. I was even tempted to look up 100 Deutschmarks in 1989 = ? But I know I would get sidetracked and forget why I had asked Mr Google to do it for me.


H P Roychoudhury profile image

H P Roychoudhury 5 years ago from Guwahati, India

You made the story amazing. Wonderful writing.


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Twilight Lawns 5 years ago from Norbury-sur-Mer, Surrey, England. U.K. Author

Thank you H.P. I appreciate your comment... There's more if you are a brave man.


mckbirdbks profile image

mckbirdbks 5 years ago from Emerald Wells, Just off the crossroads,Texas

Hello Twilight Lawn. It took me a while to find my way here. The right person never offered me 100 Deustch marks or gum, but I haven't spent much time standing under street lamps.

Your story has a continental flare to it. The setting and description of the landscape were well chosen. The addition of the woman in black added intrigue. Your story has everything going for it. Even the humor was just right.

"A warning label", I would never give anyone brave enough to read a story of mine fair warning.

I will stay with the story despite the warning. I already want to pack a quick bag and head for Italy.


Twilight Lawns profile image

Twilight Lawns 5 years ago from Norbury-sur-Mer, Surrey, England. U.K. Author

Mck, it looks as if A.A. and Sunnie are going to be coming along also. I hope none of you are on a diet, because , if so, there will be the chance that we may be eating the odd bit of polenta, or some gnocchi and I want everyone to try some "formagi electric". But most importantly, thank for liking my writing.


mckbirdbks profile image

mckbirdbks 5 years ago from Emerald Wells, Just off the crossroads,Texas

You, A.A., Sunnie and myself in Italy on vacation, we would laugh so hard we would cry. All our diets would be shot.


Lady Wordsmith profile image

Lady Wordsmith 5 years ago from Lancaster, UK

I'm late again, sorry Ian. I love this, as it's exactly the kind of thing I love to read but can't find enough of. I could read a whole bookful of your stories. I must read the next chapters as soon as possible. Are there lots more, please? For a little while, I forgot where I was because I was so absorbed in this lovely read.

I really should learn Italian - my gran would be very proud if I did :)

Now I see why you think you love me 25%!

Linda.


Twilight Lawns profile image

Twilight Lawns 5 years ago from Norbury-sur-Mer, Surrey, England. U.K. Author

There are five chapters, Linda, and all based on a little throwaway "joke" that actually happened. But I just loved writing it, and nearly every word is true.

What a shame that one of the most beautiful languages in the world is only spoken by the citizens of one country... apart from San Marino and a couple of others.


Lady Wordsmith profile image

Lady Wordsmith 5 years ago from Lancaster, UK

I had a word with my mum, and she's sending me some chapters of the book she's been learning Russian from. We're going to learn that together, and then we're going to look at Italian once we've got going with the Russian :) And then I've got to start practising some Japanese with my brother. I've been putting off learning languages for far too long, and it's something I've always wanted to do properly.

Reading your chapters tomorrow - looking forward to it!

Linda.


Twilight Lawns profile image

Twilight Lawns 5 years ago from Norbury-sur-Mer, Surrey, England. U.K. Author

I hope I don't disappoint you, Linda. But having said that, I accept constructive criticism.

On the language front, I spoke several languages when I was very young, but gradually lost them through lack of use. Heartbreaking!

I am reading 'The Far Pavilions' by M.M.Kaye, right now, and words I thought I had forgotten keep cropping up, but it's not the same as speaking a language, is it?

Some in a language I never even knew… Pashtun!


Lady Wordsmith profile image

Lady Wordsmith 5 years ago from Lancaster, UK

I'm just reading all about your beginnings in that hub you linked for me :) Yes, absolutely heartbreaking to lose those languages!

Don't be daft Ian, you couldn't disappoint me! I love your writing, truly.

*Shamefaced* - I think I have a copy of 'The Far Pavilions', I'll add it to the ever-growing list.


Twilight Lawns profile image

Twilight Lawns 5 years ago from Norbury-sur-Mer, Surrey, England. U.K. Author

There are parts of the story that absolutely make me weep. The main character is a young boy of English parentage who was born in India. In the book his Ayah sings him a Nursery rhyme in Urdu. It is the selfsame nursery rhyme that my Ayah used to sing to me before my parents took me away from her because they were frightened that I would "go native".


Lady Wordsmith profile image

Lady Wordsmith 5 years ago from Lancaster, UK

I'll move it up the list :) I've only read one book about British people in India - I think I've mentioned it before, Felicity Kendal's autobiography? It was lovely, and did make me cry. But there must be so many layers of a book like that that would go completely over my head, being as I have no experience or even any idea of what it might have been like to live anywhere that isn't where I am now.

You have some very special memories. Thank you for sharing them :)


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Twilight Lawns 5 years ago from Norbury-sur-Mer, Surrey, England. U.K. Author

I was sitting in the car today, and I had my Sony recorder with me and suddenly thought I would "write" a few notes for a hub. I was yapping away about this day we went to Poona, and when I listened to it, to see what I thought, it was the voice of a child; me as a child, but with the adult's tone (I have a pretty deep voice!). I couldn't believe what I was hearing. A little boy talking about a day out with his Mummy and Daddy.

I just sat there listening in floods of tears.


Lady Wordsmith profile image

Lady Wordsmith 5 years ago from Lancaster, UK

That voice is there in a lot of your hubs, Ian, I've noticed it before. That's why I had particular trouble in deciding on your real age when we first began to natter, I think. I thought you were younger than me at first :) Then you talked about things that I wouldn't have imagined a twenty-something to have had experience of, and realised that perhaps you might be a little older than me!

Speaking of your voice, I was wondering yesterday, as I read your hub on national identities, what sort of accent do you have? Do you have one at all? Or do you change it, as I do, depending on your mood and/or company?


Sunnie Day 5 years ago

Oh my I am so late..leave it to a woman..reading the comments I realized there may be a trip planned for me..Oh I almost missed it..How fun..I agree with Mck, diets are out the window and oh the fun it would be..lol

Ian I read the comment about you recording your voice and you thought it sounded like a child..I think there is a child in us all when telling our past history or sharing something that is fun..that child is a gift to always hang on to. It holds many treasures that guard them until we are ready for them to come out..That child laughs, sings, remembers when the adult voice cannot make its way because it is too busy with the junk of life..I hope you let it come out and play alot....I hope you you a wonderful day..

Love,

Sunnie


Twilight Lawns profile image

Twilight Lawns 5 years ago from Norbury-sur-Mer, Surrey, England. U.K. Author

Yes, Linda; my "Real Grown Up Writer" friend (remember) mentioned the voice of young Ian when she read 'Krishna in the Morning'.

Rather than stretching your Mathematical capabilities, I am 71.

A also, talking about maths, I was remebering a conversation that you had with Epigramman in relation to your son'e mathematical progress. I majored in English at Teachers' College, but when I came here. I found that my maths teaching was really good. In fact, children used to leave my classes and move on to Secondary Schools and really be quite a nuisance in class, because they would be saying, "Mr Clark taught us this; Mr Clark told us that" to the extent that, quite often, the person with responsibility for Maths in that school would come to watch me and discover what my methods were. They would go away scratching their heads and wondering how and why.

I strongly believe that, simplistic as this may sound, if a teacher cane enthuse a child and let him realise that Maths is fun, then ALL children will be good at the subject.

I know the Dreadful National Curriculum has destroyed the chance of "School days being the happiest days of our lives", and that I may be living in the past, but the kids in my classes, on the whole, came away loving something about school; whether Maths, Englsih; Dance; History or just me.

Ask Sunnie about the accent. It slips around a bit... From British India, to Educated Australian (yes there is one) to Received to Sarf London when I;m in a good mood and want to take the piss out of something or someone.

But in a land knee deep in English accents, mine is an accent that makes peole say, "Oh! You're so Englsih",]

Wot I ain't, Innit.


Twilight Lawns profile image

Twilight Lawns 5 years ago from Norbury-sur-Mer, Surrey, England. U.K. Author

Sunnie, there's going to me another member (or members to our party. Linda's going to come along and practise her Italian and gather even more recipes along the way... and I want her to bring her sons so that they can learn the language when they are out playing with Italian ragazzi and I also want to instil in her eldest the love of Mathematics... I don't know how, but we'll manage it.

I love you comment. It is so well written and says all the things that I hold most dear.


Lady Wordsmith profile image

Lady Wordsmith 5 years ago from Lancaster, UK

Mm-hmm. Yes, we'd like to be party members please. We need educating in food, languages and mathematics, like wot Ian said. My eldest son, Thomas, is currently sitting at the dining table, crying over his three-times-tables. Fortunately I'm making him a nice big plate of proper Italian pasta with real fresh basil and all, which will make him feel better.


Twilight Lawns profile image

Twilight Lawns 5 years ago from Norbury-sur-Mer, Surrey, England. U.K. Author

Tell him that your barking mad friend Ian who is in the top blah de blah percentage of mathematicians in the UK (but with no degrees etc... but don't tell him that) found that the 3 times tables were the hardest to learn.

I could never manage the threes.


Lady Wordsmith profile image

Lady Wordsmith 5 years ago from Lancaster, UK

I will tell him that, thank you :)

Lx.


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Twilight Lawns 5 years ago from Norbury-sur-Mer, Surrey, England. U.K. Author

Did you know that, apparently, we cannot count more than three objects at a time...we need to group them into threes or twos or ones; even four is two ones one line on top of another... and five (like the five dots on a die) is a four with a one in the middle and six is two lines of three.

Maths isn't hard; it's just coming to terms with the fact that it's easy that's hard.

Tell him that and then watch him get nahh==gged by his maths teacher, and then go around and throw a brick (or three bricks) though her window.


Lady Wordsmith profile image

Lady Wordsmith 5 years ago from Lancaster, UK

Ohhhhh, that makes perfect sense to me actually, because I imagine dice when I'm counting (I practise mental arithmetic all the time - like, if we're playing Boggle, with just grown ups, it has to be me who adds up the scores because I'm the one who needs to practise :) ).

I need to find ways of making him be able to visualise his maths, don't I? I wonder if I can find some resources to do that online. Hmmm. Thanks so much, Ian.


Twilight Lawns profile image

Twilight Lawns 5 years ago from Norbury-sur-Mer, Surrey, England. U.K. Author

Leggo is brilliant. It is amazing for spatial awareness and conservation (my conservation is crap) you should see me trying to pack a few clothes in a suitcase or a boot.

There is a board game which is amazing 'Othello'. Any good toy shop will have it. The easiest rules to learn but difficult to master. I cannot beat the computer generated one on the internet... even the easiest one.

Remember, I am quite OCD and count everything... I'm sure that that helps.


Becky 5 years ago

I want to come on your trip and have you enthuse my daughter with the love of Math. Math with a capitol because she hates it so. She is home schooled now and I got Math for Dummies for her. She is now mad at her 4th grade teacher for making division so hard. She is finally getting it and that book is helping her get it. She also wants to learn lots of foreign languages. She also wants to learn ALL the musical instruments. I have my work cut out and I lost French because I didn't use it.


Twilight Lawns profile image

Twilight Lawns 5 years ago from Norbury-sur-Mer, Surrey, England. U.K. Author

Becky. you and your daughter must come on our trip with us. You are going to love the other travellers. We're a motley crew, but everyone I have got to know is interesting and they all have such great minds. Your daughter and Linda's son can do Maths together and learn to love it and perhaps speak Piedmontese.

When I was there I couldn't speak a word of Piedmontese, but I knew what they were talking about, and that is a very good second best.


kallini2010 profile image

kallini2010 5 years ago from Toronto, Canada

Ian, what a spoiled man you are indeed!

"Nobody reads my stories." Nobody?

I have never been to Italy and I wish I could go. Anywhere, Piedmont or any other city... Just to see something different than my intersection.

My Italian is as bad as yours

Look at the moon, look at the sea,

I have to stay tonight without you

Foolish Love

I want to die

Only the moon looks down on me

I have nothing else

But regrets...

Do you know the song "Guarde che luna, guarde che mare"?

Ian, tesoro mio, lovely writing as usual. Different than in your childhood story.

I will read part by part... I will try tomorrow, but I might go away for a couple of days, so I am not disappearing, I am pressing a "PAUSE" button.

I learn Spanish the same way - songs, songs, songs..., but I don't like when my friend speaks Russian with me. Why? There are nuances, something irritates me...

So, Italy.

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