Chopper Action!

The state electricity company has been changing some bits on a - what is the collective noun for pylons? - a march of serious pylons that pass close by Casa Combo. This involved the use of a helicopter and a lot of noise and blokes swinging around from the top of said pylons on impossibly slim ropes without a care in the world. I got the willies just looking at them. Interestingly, I spoke to some of the climbing gang after they had finished this section and they all have the thickest accents from the Alto Adige/Trentino region.....where the Dolomites are! Climbing must be in their DNA.
Apologies for not having written for a while about drinking. To be honest I have been pouring so much down my fat chops lately that even I feel embarassed at my levels of consumption. Last Wednesday - just as a random example - I had two small 33cl bottles of Europiss at around 5pm; at six I fixed a Martini Rosso for Mrs Combo and but I customised mine with a decent slug of Beefeater, just to give it some backbone. With dinner I drank a bottle of Cabernet Franc, minus one glass for the good lady wife, bless 'er; after she had tootled off to bed I slunk down to the cellar and as quietly as possible drew off a couple of big (alright, huge) glasses of Barbera d'Asti from my excellent bag in box selection. I rounded off this tranquil evening with two sodding great grappas. The only possible chink of hope for me is that the spirits I drink are clear; never really been one for whisky or brandy. And I hardly ever drink at lunchtime, honest. But I'm clutching at straws, aren't I?

Fly the Flag Comrades

The local town has a bakery on virtually every street and, being Italy, it's difficult to buy poor bread just as it's difficult to eat badly in a restaurant or trattoria. However, bread prices have rocketed recently which is why this place is now even busier than ever (before you start I know it doesn't look busy but the customers got out of the way for the photo). This is a local commie co-operative and the bread and foccaccia is about half the price of that sold by the thieving capitalists who run the normal bakeries. It's good stuff too. Note the patronal saint of murder squads gazing out implacably over a throng of buyers who couldn't give a stuff about Santa Clara.

Being a soundly-principled Conservative of course I now never go anywhere else.

Hard at it

Snapped this little workhorse in a local village. In daily use too. Doesn't Brussels say that tractor cabs are obligatory in the EU? But we're in Italy!

Only in Italy - 2

Dear readers, may I introduce you to the Italian Minister for Equal Opportunities? Being only 33 she has obviously made the most of the equal opportunities afforded her. Her name is Mara Carafagna and she was once a 'showgirl', this being the euphemism Italians use to describe a piece of totty on the telly. He's no mug, Berlusconi, is he?

And this is the over-the-hill, washed-up, well past-it Minister for Education Mariastella Gelmini who at the ripe old age of 41 staggered into Berlusconi's government. As a strict matter of policy he will not have dogs in his Cabinet. Are there any belters in Brown's farcical team? Are there enough pints in the world before you'd give Hazel Blears one?

Yum yum

This was the accompanying plate of nibbles served as an aperitivo with a glass of Gavi di Gavi (not pictured) yesterday evening at a swish bar in town. And jolly nice it was too. Nearly couldn't take a second helping of rabbit at dinner later.

Puffing Away

Here is Claudio on his tractor. Claudio is a pinko and, surprisingly, a nice cheerful chap. As we all know virtually all those of the leftish persuasion are bereft of any manners or sense of humour whatsoever. He works at a local agriturismo. However, Claudio old chap, that's some carbon footprint you're knocking out. For a hippie.

Molto Inglese

I brought back a litre bottle of Pimm's on a recent trip to Blighty and then, at a subsequent evening at Bruno's, introduced a selected group of fellow alkies to the mysteries of this excellent drinky. Pimm's is an unknown quantity hereabouts. They watched with mouths open as I filled the carafe with ice and roughly chopped fruit. "And then you put..... cucumber....?!" Mouths opened even wider. Needless to say it went down a treat, everyone got trolleyed and the hunt was on for a source of Pimm's in northern Italy. Remarkably, a dusty box was found in a local Cash & Carry and the deal was done. This was the scene on Thursday evening. Somehow Bruno knew (maybe it's an atavistic thing) that the addition of a slug of Beefeater gives it more muscle. The sign of a real drinker.