A Rosie Life In Italy: Why Are We Here? by Rosie Meleady

Author:Rosie Meleady [Meleady, Rosie]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Publisher: Envy Publishing
Published: 2020-11-01T00:00:00+00:00

23

We didn't realise we were living in a hallway until Christmas. "Where will we put the Christmas tree?" I said, looking around as every wall had at least one doorway. We had already had difficulty finding what wall to mount the TV on and for that we decided the small space between the big fireplace and Luca's door was the best place.

So we'd all sit facing Luca's door every evening; this was particularly problematic when watching a horror movie and Luca would come out of his room unexpectedly making me nearly jump through the roof and us all staring at his door in the darkened room, with just the light of the TV on our faces accompanied by horror music theme tunes made him jump nearly equally as high.

"Beside Luca's door," suggested Ronan.

"But there's no space beside his door."

"I mean here." Ronan said parking the tree directly in front of Luca's door.

"How do I get into my room?"

"Oh, just duck around it."

"You mean duck under the telly and then squeeze around the back of the tree?"

"Just be careful you don't knock it over," I add, thinking of my precious ornaments I had carted with us all the way from Ireland rather than my son's eyes being poked out by pine needles.

Our first Christmas was definitely quieter than our usual of having 15 family members over for a big slap-up lunch that Ronan and I would spend months planning and the morning prepping.

On New Year's Eve we went out on the balcony and watched the fireworks reflect in the lake as they popped in sky from all the towns dotted around the lakeshore.

We soon learnt that January to March were the coldest months in Italy, and we also learned the house we were renting had no insulation. Having a bedroom that had walls exposed on three sides made it a sauna in summer and freezing in winter. We'd go to bed adding two layers to the amount we wore during the day, plus two duvets and still felt freezing.

"Under the Tuscan sun my ass, why is it so cold?" I said.

"Ahh it is not usually this cold," explained Lucia, who was really suffering as she would wear an overcoat and shiver in September when we were still in short sleeves. "By mid- March it will be better."

Sure enough, as if God had flicked on the thermostat on the 15th March, it got warmer and kittens began to appear.

Italy is riddled with cats, which isn't a bad thing as I love cats. I once stood at a train station in Tuscany and watched a well-dressed woman cross the tracks open a bag and empty several tins of cat food into bowls along a wall. She tapped the tin and cats came running from everywhere. In Ravello I had watched cats feast on pasta left out for them, like it was wild salmon. In Calabria I happened across an alleyway with an old wooden table and some chairs around with 'Gatto Ghetto' graffitied on the crumbling wall.

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