Addio Sicilia, arrivederci!

I’m writing this at 10am on the day we leave Sicily. It’s early I know to be writing but I felt I needed to.

You see for the last hour I have been attempting to pack the car. It dawned on me early that since my “rehearsal” Dave the Husband has inadvertantly shrunk the car when he last washed it. I have emailed him regarding this and await his apology.

If the car hasnt shrunk as I believe, then we are are officially the Clampits. Bar the chair on the roof for Grandma. It’s a kennel on the roof for the kids.

I haven’t even packed the football’s. And help me when the kids find out their Nerf guns may not make it. (I say may due to the fact that as I write this I may have thought of a gap they can go in.

Our car is full. So why on earth does our apartment still seem so also?

Anyway, moving on and to keep you informed. My big girl pants have, as feared, been separated from the other luggage. 3 cases arrived safely in Spencer’s Wood on Wednesday. Knickers decided from Milan they wanted to go back to Bergamo.

After speaking to the company currently responsible for my under garments and tweeting numerous sarcastic messages, my pants have made it to UK soil. They are sitting in Gatwick. Nanny seems lost of all hope and believes they will be returned. Dave is hopeful I will one day be reunited with my Apple gatherers.

Perhaps I should do a separate blog. Travels with undercrackers.

Baxty has now officially been issued his passport. He was also given tablets the size of Horses to swallow whole and a clean bill of health as well as various people feeling up his nether regions to check all is well. Dave feels that this should be a requisite of all passport applications. Anyway, I’m not sure Baxter will be grateful when he discovers how little room he now has to travel in. Oops.

We have no food in the house. This was a bit of a mistake on my part. We have two meals I need to cater for. As it stands, each will consist of literally bread and Jam with Pickled onions. We can also have Polish Grass Vodka, English tea and rice crispies. I don’t know why I worried. Or is that the Grass Vodka talking.

I have a feeling one meal will be McDonalds or at least some artery clogging tastyness. We’ve been told the cleaners are coming in to clean our apartment at 7.15. No room for us to be late!!!

Crap, football’s. They’re haunting me. And why has another laptop appeared?

The Husband has called. Mainly to remind me of my rehearsal and tell me what I already know. I think he’s trying to mock my inadequate measuring skills. If you ask me though perhaps he should be grateful. 😉😘

Is 11.04 too early for Vodka and Mountain Dew?

And did I mention my fear of boats, ships and all things that carry you across water?

The Mosquito dot to dot has faded some what. My arm is left feeling slightly numb. That could also be the vodka.

The Raptors are whining. Something to do with not having anything to play on. Maybe I should send them out to play with the puzzle that is squeezing two Nerf guns in a space the size of Tinkerbells butt crack.

Anyway, I need a nap. (Vodka related). The dog has vanished, the kids have disappeared down the crack of the bed since I last lifted it. I know they have air as I can hear Benji screech “This is all your fault”

What’s worse is on investigating said children to ensure their fighting is only minimal, they’re in their pyjamas. I’ve only gone and packed all their ruddy clothes. Give me strength.

I best go now so Ciao for now my peeps. You can guarantee that I will check in tomorrow and let you know which child I forgot. On the plus side they have 1 outfit to keep them going and pickled onions.

🙂

The joys of packing!

Before I go too far into our recent goings on, I would like to address the elephant in the room. Anyone that follows me on Facebook may know the elephant I’m referring to.

On Wednesday evening, around 8pm, I was hit by a car. When I say hit I mean more bumped into and when I refer to “a car” I mean my car. My car being reversed my him. Yes that’s right, him. My husband.

You can imagine my reaction as I tried to peel my skin off the exhaust pipe and move out the way as fast as my now dodgy hip would let me. He briefly kept going too. My screech wasn’t enough.

You’ll remember in my last blog that my constant leaking had failed to remove the Hippo that attaches itself to my butt, so I’m unsure how I could not be seen in any mirror. Surely something this big must have been spotted. And if not, then we have a huge blind spot issue with my Mini.

To top it all off, he laughed. Yes that’s right he laughed. He saw the circle starting to appear on my calf and could see my obvious disgruntled state so his first thought was to laugh. Arse! What’s even worse is it made me laugh too. I can’t tell you how much that annoyed me.

Any way, I would like to say I’m ok. No lasting damage other than the rear view mirror that has been embedded into “his” forehead. Now he’ll bloody see me!

So moving on, We’re 8 days away from our departure. As it looms close the anxiety levels are creeping higher. Sleepless nights are becoming a bit more of an issue again and I am more amazed than ever before in life, how and why I collect so much rubbish.

I refuse to send my numerous socks with holes in back to the UK to add the collection of odd socks there. Dave has even thrown wires away. I think he can remember the two boxes we have in the loft at home.

The suitcases are still due to be picked up tomorrow. Still between 9 and 6. I’ve been warned not to pack most items with only tissues and big knickers being suitable.

I’ve had a test run of packing the car. I can’t remember if I told you this last time. Either way it should be fine. (I say that a lot don’t I?)  We’ve even got room for the fluffballs bed. Baxter not Dave.

The Raptors are a year older than when we arrived and their skills at whining and arguing have increased to suit their ages. I can’t wait to sit in a small car with a sick dog and arguing children for 5 days. At least I can’t get reversed onto. Happy days!!!

It’s quite surreal to think that we’ve only got one more weekend left. Dave is intent exhausting us to the point of collapse with “fun” things to do. Walking an hour down into a canyon being the priority. I, on the other hand, have a list of things I need to get done while I have the car and a small amount of his attention.

It looks like things are coming together nicely if I do that whole stepping back and reflecting thing. I’ve even cleaned windows in the apartment. Not all of them because the 4 I did nearly killed me. I hate cleaning windows. Beds have been moved to clean under. Cupboards emptied etc. All last minute bits left.

Baxter gets his passport two days before we leave. Once I have this I think the rest will be a doddle.

I can then focus on the ship ahead. Where the life boats are etc. You see I hate boats, or going on water. Swimming in it is ok but that’s about it. I can’t even go over the Poole Harbour bridge without freezing, stopping breathing and getting all sweaty. Especially when my brother stops his car in front of us while we follow making sure that the crossing takes as long as is humanly possible. Another Arse! (I can see why he and Dave get on so well)

The smallest of the family is creating enough noise to attract my attention. It needs feeding I believe. He’s very Hangry it would seem. Mummy just isn’t moving quick enough.

Anyway, Ciao for now peeps.

🙂

 

 

 

 

 

 

11 days and counting

It’s always hard to try to remember what we’ve done since I last wrote, how to try and make it entertaining and remember what it is I wanted to write again. If I’m perfectly honest I can’t remember when I even did a post. I’m lucky I remembered what I was doing as I walked from room to room.

I’m just going to have to pause here. The man of the room has just walked in, announced he’s so itchy and is expecting attention. When asked what he needs I got a simple reply – “I don’t know what I want”. I tell you, Derren Brown is onto a winner when it comes to relationships. I wish the feck I could mind read. Anyway, my beloved is now smelling something akin to a bottle of vodka after dosing himself up with Bug spray.

I should say it was a Mosquito invasion that had befallen him and not any other questionable reason.

He’s off to get Petrol now and put the trash out. It’s going to be a rough night in the Large household. Poor fellow. Oh it’s ‘ot’ as well. translated into English. “It’s hot”

Anyway, lets just say, right now, apparently it isn’t coming home. Poor England failed to ward of Croatia. Still, couldn’t have Tottenham saying 2018 they were the last winners of the world cup. WHUFC fans, you’ll know why this wouldn’t’ be a good thing.

Oh yeah, Sicily. To give an update, we’re 11 days away from leaving this beautiful Island.

Our suitcases are being collected Friday I am told and heading back to the UK. The company have informed me that we’re in a remote location and not only will it cost 28Eur extra but it could cause a delay in picking them up. I’m fully expecting to never see the vast majority of my big knicker collection ever again.

We still haven’t sold the wet suits that were bought for ornamental purposes either. We did have one offer but I’m not sure we should be paying someone to take them. I was only mildly insulted. What’s worse is I think the blighters have multiplied while in storage. I can’t remember him buying this many but I keep finding them.

This weekend was spent catching up with wonderful friends.

Firstly swimming on Saturday afternoon to say goodbye to wonderful person number 1 and his daughter. Saturday evening at a BBQ with Wonderful person number 2, a lovely lady, (my calming friend), her family and friends. Relaxed isn’t the word. It was so welcoming and warm.

Then Sunday, after a purely coincidental meeting, we got to spend Sunday with an awesome couple who we’d even said goodbye to the previous week, I can’t keep saying goodbye people. My hormones are never in a very strong place as it is. Anyway, we spent the afternoon at the beach chatting away swimming in beautiful clear water that was 1 degree warmer than ice and the evening in a fabulous restaurant that met Benji’s Strict Cheesy pasta criteria to perfection. (Thanks Isabella for arranging)

Needless to say, today this pair of 40+ year olds could have done with a nap. If only work, moving and children didn’t have to take priority. I’ve had a nice cup of tea now to keep me going another couple of hours.  Although I appear to be melting.

I like warm, I can deal with warm. But as my Mum can tell you, as a teenager I needed my coat with me at all times. I like to be prepared for all eventualities. This though is crazy. I weighed myself today though and seems I’m carrying a hippo somewhere in my big girl pants. I was convinced I must have melted some of it away but nope!!

At night though we have a different issue and thanks to Dave “I’m facking ‘ot love” Large its blooming freezing. He must have the A.C set to Arctic conditions with snow even falling in places. He’s not to happy when I turn the blasted thing off during the night to warm my nether regions back up slightly. Gees!!!

Anyway, it’s time to take my little raptors to bed. I mentioned it about 10 mins ago, had one tell me they were hungry. The other told me I’m mean and they’re still sat in the same place.

Ciao for now my peeps. Stay safe in the tropical conditions.

🙂

 

 

 

 

 

By Jove, I think we’ve got it

Well almost, when you step back, look at a picture from afar, it’s amazing isn’t it how much clearer it becomes. Unless of course you’re as blind as a bat and in complete denial. I can’t cater to those people in this sentence though so don’t moan at me. You’ll just have to follow along.

I’m not going to lie, the situation with the UK schools has sent me a little crazy. I was even spouting sentences that involved the words “freedom of Information request” “appeal” and “idiot”. Then I had a moment of clarity, posted on Facebook and pulled the one child I thought was in the school that was best, out, and put him in a school that looked bad but seems to be far better.

See lunacy.

I’ve got at least 6 people who I need to meet up with prior to them starting in September. All appear to be lovely ladies with children in the same year group as my boys. I’m also hoping that Harry’s best friends Mum will meet me so we can get in that Prosecco quota. I can’t do this alone… (I was going to say without Prosecco and realised that just made me sound like a raging alcoholic)

The Vet has been booked in France. All done very smoothly via Facebook too. This book of Face is turning out to be most useful.

Eurotunnel booked. I’m still anxious about the dog crossing onto UK soil but by that point I will have seen three vets, 2 Italian and 1 French, so unless the dog lets me down and starts frothing at the mouth and barking into thin air at the last-minute, there should be no reason for this to be an issue. And to be honest this is me on a normal day and they keep letting me through.

All hotels have been booked. I should state that they’ve been booked by us and I don’t just mean that I left it so long they’ve all been booked by normal people who have no issues booking hotels. All establishments have street viewed, trip advised, viewed again and Googlified. I think I’ve even tried to stalk them on Faceybook too. Admit it that’s where all good stalking begins.

I would like to say though for those of you now worrying at my sense of privacy, I would of course not check anyones profile out secretly. I hope you all understand. Although I will point out that there was one time a few years ago that I needed to stalk an ex girlfriend of my brother only to accidentally friend request her. Silly cow bag accepted straight away so it got pretty embarrassing when I immediately had to un-friend her. Eeeek! I’m surprised she did though if I’m honest. I think it really annoyed her years previously when I told her the dog had vomited after she’d kissed it. In my defense, how the feck did I know she was going to full on lip kiss the dog in front of everyone. We all know that a dog licks their own arse which should be reason enough not to kiss it. But no, this one had to get annoyed because it was sick prior to her advances.

Moving swiftly on and back to the subject in hand, all that’s left are the last-minute things. Get suitcases delivered. Dog passports and last minute treatments. I’m quite relaxed about it now. I could of course just be fibbing and pooping my pants at the mere thought of it all. Or completely delusional and missing half my list.

It’s our Benji’s birthday today and of course that means I should have baked a cake, instead I’ve got said birthday child to help me. I sold it as a birthday treat. In reality I figure that any lumps can then be blamed on the innocent 8-year-old. More pressing is that the oven hates me at the moment. Not only does it burn the food I put in it,  (Again not my fault at all) but it seems to blow all fuses in the apartment during important football games thus killing the internet. I was not popular. If I can therefore bake during the day all will be good and allow plenty of time for me to leave the country.

To keep some normality to life, we’ve been trying to search out all the nice beaches. Sunday we went to one that although the sea was lovely, everyone else thought so too and not being a beach lover, imagine my reaction to walking onto Sicily’s smallest beach and sitting like canned sardines. Harry covered in Ant bites. All kinds of balls being thrust in your direction. Seriously people Speedo’s should be banned. I do not need to see what you’ve got stored in your pack lunch.

We found another beach Monday. Well Monday night in the dark. Dave gets these ideas but sometimes doubts himself so what should have been said earlier escapes from his mouth 2 hours after the ideal time. It was fun though to hear him driving in the dark saying, “I didn’t realise how low the sun was”. Apparently at 8.30pm you should expect it to be as bright as at 12.30? We now need to go back to see if it’s as nice as we thought.

I shall leave it here for now. I have a 6-year-old that, so I’m told, is close to death and he needs the A.C on. So that you can picture his dying moments, he’s dressed in his tracksuit bottoms, rolling around on the floor similar to Neymar, wrapped in a blanket. I’m not sure he’s suited to wake up times prior to 8.30 or brothers shouting “It’s my birthday” as the alarm call. I’m also not sure he’s impressed that he didn’t get anything for his brother’s birthday.

Anyhoo, Ciao for now peeps.

P.s COME ON ENGLAND… IT’s COMING HOME!!!!!!

North, South, up or down???

To say anxiety levels are increasing is an understatement. Did we have this coming out here? I seriously need to read my blogs from then.

There just seems so much that has to fall into place and my sanity levels are never the most stable of things. It’s too hot to drink too.

We can’t even decide on the route. The route I say. The ferry from Palermo to Genoa that’s been dismissed thanks to a large tariff of 600 EUR. I’m not sure they understood that I didn’t want to buy the blessed thing, I just wanted it to take me across the water a little way. And I think they would have shoved us in cargo with the chickens for that price. So now we’re taking a ferry (It’s all booked so we have to) from Catania to Salerno.

This ferry only costs 200 EUR and we get a “Superior outside cabin” basically we’re going on deck in a cardboard box, the superior just means they’ll give us a cushion to share.

I have no idea where Baxy goes. Apparently he gets his own accommodation. He’ll probably be in some swanky suite with his selection of doggy beverages and a doggy strippers bought to him when he demands.

Even the 2nd day is decided, what we can’t decide on is where we go from Northern Italy. Dave wants to see some gorge while the boys want to go to view Mont Blanc. I just want a bar!!

I’ve got wonderful ladies from the Save a Sigonella Stray group (Check them out, they are literally the most amazing animal rescue group I’ve come across)  all helping to try to keep me calm with regards to getting Baxy’s passport sorted. Dealing with Sicilian Businesses is never going to be easy but I’ve got friends from the group all willing to come and help.

What else is there, oh yeah, I’ve got to sell wet suits if anyone local wants one, watch this space. I have an adults one used only twice thanks to an unnatural ability to fall into the water, an aging body that doesn’t take kindly to extra muscles being used and makes you look like a cartoon seal when on. If you’re tempted, I think that’s just because Dave struggled getting it on the first time)

I’ve chucked away my cake mixer which I realised too late I needed to mix two children’s birthday cakes in 6 days and 13 days. No biggie. I’ve not told them and shall continue to listen to what designs they want all the while knowing that they shall be getting what they get and enjoy the lumps that Mummy left in. (Yes Mother, I do remember the lemon Meringue)

The black bag suppliers will be laughing come the end of July. I’m not sure where I stored all this crap. I really must learn to throw stuff away. Starting with this jumper I’ve kept a hold of because it’s got a little heart thing on. I could never wear it because I didn’t want people to question the ventilation holes under each armpit. (They were just holes). There’s a pyjama top too that I could never wear because my shoulders didn’t like the straps and kept dismissing them. McDonald’s toys –  what the hell? they’re useless, why have we still got them?

Stones – Harry collects stones. I’ve got a garden centres worth of them. Various shapes, sizes. Ones collected on Etna. Ones he saw in a car park and they looked pretty. He even collected ancient china. It was an old wall tile someone had thrown out down the rubbish lane behind the apartment. Because he collected it though I can’t throw it away. I’ve probably got a stash of dead flower heads somewhere.

I’ve been told we’re having a test run of what we can fit in the car soon. I think I might be crying by the end of the experience. In my head the car is massive. In reality it’s a 4 door mini Cooper.

The dog is going to be lying on 3 ft worth of blankets and towels, I can see it. Towels are always useful. I can’t throw them.

I think I’m going to have to throw my lifetime carrier bags out that I’m collecting. Seriously why do I not take them shopping each week instead of buying new ones. I think it’s good value for money until you work out I could have bought a Nissan GtR if only I’d stuck to my first 4 Lifetime carrier bags.

I guess I best leave it there for a couple of days. I’m sure that you’re all rocking now after reading this.

Any questions, feel free to ask me.

Ciao for now peeps.

🙂

Save a Sigonella Stray

 

 

Best get packing then.

It’s finally happening. I mean I know I’ve said this before and to be perfectly honest I’ve been saying it every three months since we got here. Such is the craziness of the last few months.

We arrived on September 29th 2017, you’ll remember it as it’s the day I got to do an audible sigh and eye roll at the fact someone, (I don’t need to say who), didn’t book a hire car from the airport as requested resulting in using thousands of pounds (not literally) on a cab ride around the island of Sicily and back again just to get 20 mins from the airport. If you also remember we had to do it back the very next day just to actually pick up the hire car.

Ladies I know you’re with me and share my frustrations. Men, this is equal to having to walk round the mall dozens of time to buy the first pair of shoes seen. Yes that bad!!!

Any way moving on to the reason for this blog, we are going back to the UK and while the weather is good too I might add.

The tasks ahead of us are many, booked ferry travel, ship the suitcases back ahead of time (because they wont fit now I’ve got a new dog) not to mention the passport I need to get for my furry baby.

Not much really! (I feel sick)

I thought I would start writing a blog to document our return experience, my thoughts on Sicily. Likes & dislikes etc. and anything else that crops up. I shall also use this as a good reminder of all the things I need to do and undoubtedly remind Dave of all that I have done. Oh my goodness, that’s reminded me I need to get the kids in school again. See how useful this is proving.

The trip back will be worth reading about if I’m honest. Two clearly tired, sweaty and cranky adults, a 7 year old that gets bored after 2 minutes plus an 8-year-old that knows best oh and a dog that gets travel sick. All travelling non stop for a number of days, (we might be allowed to sleep occasionally so I’m told), in my trusty little mini. We should have a little amount of stuff from here too. I have no idea where it will go but go it will.

In theory it sounds fun and a brilliant experience. We’re travelling to the other side of Sicily to a place called Palermo where we’ll board a ferry (I hate ships) to Genoa. There we’ll travel up all through Northern Italy and France all the way to Calais. As required by my great husband, I have weighed up all options to ensure we are taking the cheapest route. I’ll be honest I’m bored now and have decided that the above option is much cheaper. Regardless. Don’t tell him will you. It’ll only lead to me reminding him of the Taxi.

 

Thanks to the UK Border and all that, part of the requirement to take Baxy into the UK, I need to give him a tablet, he has to cross the border within 5 days of him having it. Apparently it’s the norm and most people travelling back to the UK get a French vet near to Calais to do it. Apparently the Vets are used to it. Anyone reading this know what I’m talking about and recommend a vet? At the moment I’m leaning towards someone called Dr. Dandrifosse. Sounds like Candy floss so he must be OK.

I’m trying not to panic. Does it show. I don’t feel my normal funny cell has been engaged for this one. Just picture us travelling, that should make you laugh.

I waffling on now. It’s taken me a few hours to string this amount of craziness along. Many interruptions from Harry moaning that I’m not taking cars seriously. The dog has needed a pee only to run away from the door because it sounds funny. Benji has just hidden himself away preferring some alone time. He know’s what lies ahead.

Buggeration, the battery is giving up now. Blasted thing.

Best go.

Ciao my gorgeous peeps.

🙂

Our life in Sicily – The updated update.

As our time in Sicily draws to a close, I thought it only right that I start to document this journey. I have a feeling it’s going to be one filled with lots of emotion. I’ll try to make it a funny one. Lets face it life in the Large household is never going to be dull.

In a little over three months, we’ll be back. Well, I say back, in 3 months we’ll actually be vacationing in Florida to help us deal with the grief of missing our new friends. It’s taking Mickey Mouse to get over you guys I hope you realise. (Should any of the aforementioned guys read this).

Firstly, an update on life. The boys are in school finally and I think they’re enjoying not having a clue what anyone around them is saying. Heck, I have to do it each day living with Dave “I’m a roight geeza now gimme ‘alf a rowst chicken” Large. They have a huge amount of homework that we have to translate and an appetite like a horse.

We had a slight incident recently which most of you have read about on Facebook. To cut a long story short and remind you all, Harry tripped over some fluff and headbutt the kerb at some force followed by small amounts of “claret” (Apparently this is blood if you’re from London and not a wine as I first thought) being deposited on the kerb and stairs. Much fuss later I have a new found love for crazy Sicilian ladies that suffer the trauma of calling themselves teachers to dozens of 6 year olds and their Aloe plants. That’s the teachers Aloe plants to clarify. There aren’t dozens of 6 year olds running around with Aloe plants tucked in their back packs.

Dave continues to work at the BBQ and Ice cream Factory and each day comes home with a headache and an ache is his back. Probably from having to carry around his ever-increasing pasta filled waistline. I still think Quadzilla looks mighty fine but he has some honest Italian working with him that assures him he’s getting fat. As a side note, I’m never going to work here, that kind of honesty is something us fat lasses with nice smiles can do without.

Me, I continue on my journey of self discovery also known as catching up on Dr. Phil, and any other crap TV I’m not allowed to watch in the company of any one else. I do housework but it’s usually a last-minute thing I have to do when Dave is coming home along with brushing my teeth and showering. Dave should you read this, I promise I do these first really!!!

This will be a good test to see if he does actually read this.

A bit about Sicily, It’s beautiful. Although we’ve not done as much as we would like we have explored a bit. From Sledging on a Snow covered active volcano, to visiting the Valley of the Temples. Played on the beach for 1/2 hour (this is as long as interest in sitting on a beach lasts) and walked around a couple of old Sicilian towns. Mainly the one we live in with its cobbled streets.

We’ve discovered lovely wine at 4EUR a bottle and decided we need to tighten the purse strings with this extravagance.

Baxter decided that he’d still like to live with us so hangs around on a daily basis. He enjoys the company of male dogs that like to hitch a ride on his head. Don’t ask as we certainly haven’t. All I know is each to their own. He seems happy.

I think that’s about it for now. I’ll try to blog a bit more as the count down to D-day looms ever closer. We’re not looking forward to it for a number of reasons. One being stuck in a Mini Cooper for 4 days with a crazy fat black dog that likes to bring his breakfast back the minute he gets in the boot. 2 Crazy children who despise being in each others company for anything more than 5 minutes.

Ciao for now my lovely peeps.

 

 

A happy sad day in Sicily.

As days go today is a good day. So why the blooming heck do I seem to be leaking from most holes on my face and my voice all weird? Well our little Sicilian Stray Baxter got adopted by his Furever family. See it’s a good day.

Even Harry is breaking his tradition and comforting me. I’ve even been told I can play Mine craft if I want. The boy can be so generous. He gets it from his Dad.

It’s that bad and yet completely irrational. The family he’s gone to seem absolutely adorable and I know he’s gone to good home. So why can’t I turn off the snot flow?

Harry is now reminiscing over all the other times I’ve blubbed. It would appear I do it a lot. In fact that question has just been put to me as to why I cry so much?

Being a woman/mum/wife is truly a gift. I mean come on, I can deal with pain at quite a high level (partial Achilles tendon tear that I tried to exercise through being a prime example) so why on earth at that delicate time of the month do I cry at the slightest thing? I even cried at the Heathrow Airport Christmas ad earlier.

To work our way through the grief I’ve offered to take the boys shopping for a Christmas tree and decorations. Make the place all festive. (1 month early, that will get Daddy well annoyed)

Anyway moving on, we’re still in Sicily or at least we are for the next couple of weeks. Life is ok (honestly it is, just ignore the snot on the screen)

Dave stayed on the Windsurf board at the weekend which is an achievement. I think the threat of numerous jellyfish in the water should have been given much earlier. Think of the saving.

The weather has turned cold. We are now in thick jumpers and coats. I’m pretty sure though if any Brits want to come visit you will think we’re crazy. 15° in November is NOT cold…. It flipping is you know!

We’ve taken the boys to dinner with all Dave’s work colleagues and achieved a record 5 minutes before they needed an electrical device. Benjamin tucked into his Italian Fries which made us very proud parents indeed whilst Harry even waved at someone. Dave and I ate everything despite it being “not in the plan” Bleeping plan my arse..

As an explanation, the plan referred to being the one by the Body Coach. The same exercise and eating plan that broke my tendon in the first place. I’ll give you bloody plan. And spinach and Feta. Sorry I seemed to switch hormones there. (God bless Mother Nature)

We’ve all had hair cuts. Dave’s went well as did Benjamin’s. Harry’s on the other hand not so much. She seems to have cut more skin off his neck than hair from his head. I really must practice my Italian because I’m sure I asked for her to shave his head. Still he survived his experience with Sweeny Todd but next time we’ll be a bit more selective over which Barber he goes to. I had my hair cut 2 inches. That went well. Although her waving her hand over the top of my head saying “We’ll deal with this next time”, referring to my ever increasing amount of grey hair, put a dampner on things. Then when I tried to book a colour the flipping woman had no clue what I was talking about. Clearly she has practised the wrong Eeengleesh.

So that’s about it for now. I’m sure Dave will want to have a rant about my recent hormonal imbalance along with the Christmas decorations. Oh crickey and he’s bound to tell you how much I made him spend at the Black Friday, Saturday and Sunday sales. Eeek, he’s got more than enough ammunition to not be complaining about writers block this week.

Ciao for now my peeps.

😀😂😍😢🤤😡😨☠

Finally retiring to Sicily.

Yes, I’m going to retire to Sicily after a big payout

After countless PPI calls, filling in forms, more phone calls, returning emails, I finally received my PPI offer this morning.  They say not to accept the first offer, but this is too good to turn down.  Even better the PPI Claim company have even offered to drop their Fee. To stop any family feuds I’ve decided to split the money six ways to make it fair, so that works out at 22p each but as £1.34 cannot be equally split 6 ways I’ve donated the extra 2 pence to charity.  I’m hoping the exchange rate is favorable, so I can buy a couple of packets of Space Invaders.

Lee is embracing the Sicilian way of driving, the other day whilst driving on the dual carriageway I look up from my phone to see the oncoming traffic rapidly filling up the windscreen.  Turns out that what Lee thought was a dual carriageway was in fact not.  Still nothing a new pair of pants can’t fix. And as I’m writing this all things clearly worked out well.

Luckily with our new-found fortune (I’m still debating to hold out, nearer £1.84 should do it) we can now afford to keep the new addition to our household.  No Lee isn’t pregnant, we subscribed to Sky a long time ago, Yes, we finally have a dog.  Apparently, I said Yes to him but that implies I had some sort of choice.  Unless of course Lee mentioned it whilst I was using my noise cancelling headphones.  Talking of which I can highly recommend a pair when you’ve got a wife and kids.

So, since getting here I have had nothing but issues with paperwork.  It seems even the gym has issues with me.  I tried to join 4 or 5 weeks ago, more questions, interrogations and evidence providing.  My colleagues have no such issue.  Joined within 10 minutes.  Finally, I get the membership expecting some beautifully crafted limited-edition gym card, but all I get is an A4 sized crumpled bit of paper with my name spelled with an 8 in it.  My colleagues are proud to show off with their nice beautifully crafted membership card.  I’ve yet to try my crumpled piece of paper or the gym as no doubt they will put me through some sort of fitness test I will fail meaning I won’t be allowed through the door, lined up and subsequently shot.

Benji is making great progress with his windsurfing.  Me on the other hand not so good. I’m going backwards, I would say literally but any kind of movement would be a plus.  It really needs you to be at your fittest which I am truly not.  Proven by the fact that by time I manged to get into the wet-suit I was reaching for the defibrillator. On a positive note I am enjoying it and if they ever have a sport when you need to jump on, jump off, jump on then watch this space.

DAVE LARGE the JUMPY Off’r and On’r WORLD CHAMP has a certain ring to it, no?

Sick in Sicily

Would you Adam and Eve it, I’ve got a cold. Not just any cold one that leaves you with snot trails and the look of a tramp having a bad hair day. One that makes your significant other question their future.

What I don’t get though is the how or why?

I know how and why you catch them back in Blighty and all the technical “airborne virus” type reasons. Your Kids are at school, it’s expected. You work with lots of people with questionable hygiene habits. (Just so any of my precious UOR colleagues know, your hygiene was impeccable which is impressive considering ;’) ) but here in Sicily I haven’t come across the factors that would bring such illness to my nasal passages.

1) The heat, up until recently we’ve had temperatures in the mid 20s, now it’s less but still much warmer than the UK. It’s not variable either. Steady all the way. Rain is kept to during the night therefore I have not exposed myself to wet/dry conditions.

2) The Raptors haven’t made it to School yet so they are disease free

3) I have not been in contact with anyone presenting any such symptoms. Well I say anyone, Dave announces most mornings that he’s ill and has a cold however this has disappeared by about 12 noon. Therefore for the sake of this process I shall discount him.

There must be some other Evil at work?

The Sicilians and their Superstitions, are they right?

You see, despite how us Brits feel about the temperature, it’s apparently Winter. Yes people 20° is Winter. Therefore you should dress appropriately. We ventured into the local shopping mall after Windsurfing at the weekend. All dressed in our finest Summer attire. You should have seen the looks we got. Pure and utter disgust. No offence is taken, we know were flouting the rules. The other option is to dress appropriately and sweat like a Camels arse.

Maybe they’re right though? Perhaps it is too cold.

Going out of the house with wet hair is asking for trouble. A strong wind could come, give you a chill and it’s game over. Death. Let me say I am so lazy, with two children to care for, drying hair is a luxury I don’t have and we’ll letting things dry naturally has got to be much better. Turns out probably not. Death is knocking at my door for flouting the wet hair rules.

Wearing black, it should only be worn when in mourning, if you’re not then misfortunes will befall you. I live in black. When your arse is trailing 6ft behind you, you need to try everything possible to disguise it. Could this cold be my misfortunes be falling?

What else is there? Oh yeah,

Don’t open Windows, ooops.

Ice cold water can damage your throat, well that explains that pain.

Always wear a coat or sweater other wise you could develop pneumonia. Well at least I have a diagnosis for my flippant behaviour.

So there we have it. As much as we flout our elders superstitions, it would appear in this instance it’s given me the plague tinged with pneumonia and a sore throat.

You can guarantee as I sit here in my strikingly hot apartment dressed all in Gray, my hair all dry and my sweater all snug and hot, I shall not be so flippant next time. It may be too late for me but I hope, dear people, you will heed such wise words from thos3 crazy people and their witchcraft.

Just incase there is a chance, I’m currently drinking Lemon Honey Tea from Mount Etna. It’s well delicious and Mother Google said Honey, Lemon and tea combined will ward off evil spirits.

In other news, Dave still hasn’t found his balance. At 44, I fear it may be lost forever but in the mean time for us that watch from the shore, we have some guaranteed quality entertainment.

The boys aren’t in School as mentioned previously. This is now thanks for the Drs surgery at home not being able to work their email system. I should have known better considering I’d been going there for 4 years and it was only in the last 6 months they figured out how to pick up a phone.

I’ve bought a lot of unnecessary furniture to make the apartment seem more homely. It’s not met with a warm reception from he indoors. At least he’s purchased some Elastic band type device to hang off the bedroom door handle in the hope that one day his 44 year old body will want to look like John Cena and stretch it. At least it will go with the 2 wetsuits he’s purchased for next year.

We’ve been invited to one of Dave’s work nights out. Let me tell you though I’m unsure whether the boys and I will go. I made the silly mistake of asking Dave if he wanted us to go. He’s 50/50 apparently. Cheers mate! I think we shall attend but mainly to spite him. Arse…. 😉

That’s about it really. I still don’t have a dog because I’m not allowed. Those poor stray puppies with no one to love. Seriously though people, all those puppy breeders back in the UK need to come here. In Sicily you don’t have the animal shelters to hide these poor animals from view. To be someone elses problem to deal with. They’re everywhere. Even laying on the side of the roads having been hit by some vehicle and left. It’s so heart breaking.

On that note I need to go and bar the door, the grim reaper is knocking to come in again.

Ciao peeps.