Have you ever changed a tyre? Me never. Every time I experienced a puncture all I had to do was get out of the car, look at the tyre with a OMG expression and before I knew it I would hear the brakes screeching and someone (always male, of various ages) would come out and offer to change it for me. I would then smile and look and thank him. Well, grrr and grrr. I did not have a flat tyre. At least maybe I would have tried to remember what all those men did and replicate. No, much worse. I had a bit of an iffy day two days ago and decided in late afternoon to venture to the supermarket for my weekly shopping. I was all organised, shopping bags, telephone, keys, face mask, gloves and glasses. I press the button on the key and nothing happens. I open the door manually and think hurray, I got in. Mess of used gloves, tissues and face masks on the floor. Turn the key in and the engine does not move, blink, breathe. I feel a bit baffled, then decide the battery of the car key is dead. Get the handbook of the car from its place (never done this before) and check how to change the key battery, secretely wondering what to do if the supermarket does not sell the right battery, and whether DIY shops are considered essential business and therefore open, or not. I find the page, read but do not manage to open the key. Then go to my neighbours, the one whose man seems to be the most hands on, but I think in retrospect maybe not. No one manages to open the key. I call my electrician who is home in ‘cassa integrazione’ (kind of generous unemployment benefit) due to coronavirus factory shutdown and ask him to help. He does not appear very keen (‘maybe in the next couple of days…’).
After a few hours studying the car handbook, at around midnight I have a vision on the road to Damascus: it’s not the key battery, but the car battery that has gone flat. (I actually got a hint from a helpful friend who was worried at my panicking…) It makes sense, the car is five year old and because of the lockdown I have been using it very infrequently. The relief from the correct diagnosis does not last that long. Will the car repair shop be open? and will I be fined for trying to reach it, as it is in the next village? and in any case, stupid me, how can I get there if the car battery is flat? on this note I go to bed and manage to toss and turn for a few hours.
In the morning I get hold of my friends who work in the office nearby and tell them about my misery. They just cant understand why it is I could not sleep, but then organise a Blitz Krieg to rescue me. They are agricultural entrepreneurs, essential business, and can travel for work. They come to take a picture of my old battery, call the supplier with whom they have an account (the supplier is authorised to operate but not to retail business) and go and collect a replacement battery. Then one of them with surgical precision replaces the damn thing.
Well, I am forever grateful to these guys. I promise I will bake cakes and feed them delicious food as often as I can.
So I went back to my ‘routine’. Exercise, read, clean, cook, etc. Yesterday I even went for a long walk in the fields, and when I arrived home I decided to go on a repeat of the loop, so as to reach about 9000 steps. It was sunny and while I was listening to my music fearlessly singing out of tune in the middle of nowhere I could relax. I noticed some houses have Italian flags on their balconies, probably in solidarity with the dead, the national health service and whoever is working to allow us to survive the pandemia and all the errors made by our government of greedy selfish prima donnas.
I went to bed last night with a pain in the back of my foot, somewhere between the heel and my Achilles tendon. When I got up this morning I was limping from pain. I think bursitis, maybe too much exercise, don’t know. The body is rebelling to these bursts of activity, and is telling me something. So today I am walking in heels to relax the tendon, something that does not work very well on grass and gravel. I took ibuprofen and rubbed arnica cream on the swollen heel and did not exercise. I think I am one of the few (I really do not want to feel unique) suffering from a sports injury in lockdown.
Even writing this blog has become difficult. The internet connection has become particularly poor, with several hiccups and failed autosave. I definitely do not manage to upload any photo, not that I have anything memorable to offer, but writing and losing text is NOT one of my favourite pastimes.
Last night I managed a multiple whatsapp call at aperitivo time with mother, brother, sister in law all in Rome, my son and former girlfriend walking in Hampstead Heath (they can still do that, although they are not allowed to sit on a bench, as walking is meant only for physical activity), and then my two cousins also in Rome. It was fun. My cousin’s cats were introduced to my former cat now with my mum. I even said hi to Montalbano’s girlfriend aka my cousin’s wife, as beautiful as ever. I definitely continue not to feel lonely. Although the walk had made me very introspective.
I think I am successfully managing trying to keep away from the deaths bulletin, although a quick look at the newspapers front pages made me realise I was so right, the UK and the US are getting it very bad, despite the earlier bullish tone of their politicians. Even Switzerland is suffering quite a lot, while they say that the spread in Italy is slowing down. I do not believe the latter and wish they’d keep quiet about it until they were extra sure as the north and the south of Italy are like two different countries with the latter bound to explode soon.
I saw some news about face masks and protective clothing being available in my country but cannot reach those who need them for the usual bureaucratic obstacles and thanks to some idiotic heads of regions. I don’t understand why it is that our Prime Minister has the power to lock the whole country up, but is unable to stop barbaric episodes that halt the delivery of protective clothing to the doctors and nurses. So far 71 dead from the virus, thanks to the lack of protective clothing.
I am going to close today’s post with a quote from a 1996 speech by Brian Dyson, CEO of CocaCola. I listened to yesterday rendered in a video in Spanish which moved me a lot. I found a partial translation in English. Here it is.
Imagine life as a game in which you are juggling five balls in the air. You name them — work, family, health, friends and spirit — and you’re keeping all of these in the air. You will soon understand that work is a rubber ball. If you drop it, it will bounce back. But the other four balls – family, health, friends and spirit — are made of glass. If you drop one of these, they will be irrevocably scuffed, marked, nicked, damaged or even shattered. They will never be the same. You must understand that and strive for balance in your life.
