Italian music, no bathroom

Getting the bathroom done

After doing literally nothing for all of January and most of February while recovering from the pilgrimage and broken arm, I’ve now launched myself into more hardship. I’m currently without a bath or shower and my entire flat is covered in a thick layer of dust.

The bathroom is back to bare bones: floor up and ceiling down. I have a bloody great gas pipe stuck out a foot into the bathroom. A mains water pipe in the foundations has a slow leak. Lots of problems are being revealed.

I’ve never done a bathroom before and am therefore on a steep learning curve. I’ve had the same 80s bathroom for 25 years. It’s the only room that hasn’t been touched.

Taps are so expensive aren’t they? But I don’t believe in economising when it comes to taps, having had problems in the past from buying second hand taps, so I’ve gone for British made Lefroy Brooks in polished nickel (a warmer chrome). I’ve also bought a free standing bath tub (nightmare as they delivered the wrong one) which I hope isn’t a mistake with a shower. I will have an oval overhead shower curtain rail surrounding the bath.

The bathtub I’ve bought is short- 138cms rather than the standard 170cm. I’m a short person and I hate floating with no way to touch the bottom with my feet. I want it short but deep. I mostly have showers but when I bathe I want to be able to read or watch a video.

I feel strongly that I should have my flat adapted to me and my tastes rather than accounting for what will make it more sellable in the distant future.

The tiles are pink marble scallops on sale from Fired Earth. For the toilet I’m wondering whether to go retro Edwardian or Japanese bum spraying modernity. I’ll keep you posted.

Italian music

I met my daughter’s French father in the Himalayas. When I got back I invited him to join me in London.

Almost immediately, as soon as he arrived, I went off him. What seems exotic and charming while backpacking to Annapurna, looks naff on the streets of London. It’s like falling in love with a ski instructor. In their own environment they are in their element, knowledgeable and strong. But in a city they look lost. Their clothes are wrong, their ruddy tanned faces incongruous, they don’t know how to navigate the tube, they simply aren’t cool.

It’s like buying souvenirs from abroad. That poncho that is adorable in Peru becomes unwearable in an urban environment (save it for festivals).

My souvenir holiday romance became a burden.

But I am so fixed that I powered through for 9 years. I held onto the notion, seduced by mountain air and pot smoking, that I’d met ‘the one’. Also to put it in context, London is hard to meet anyone, a nightmare for single women. Single nights commonly are oversubscribed by women while selling few tickets to men.

I was 27. I wanted a long term relationship. If I had to train up a man from a sleepy village in France, then that’s what I’d have to do.

Effectively I became his London parent. I provided housing, filled out all the forms for him to claim benefits, found him work, English lessons. Mothering someone is very unattractive if they are not an actual baby (or someone you’ve given birth to).

Our formerly passionate sex life became a chore for me. I didn’t fancy him as much. But he was affectionate, we got on well, we were friends.

One of the things that most gave me the ick was his music. He’d brought cassettes in his tatty duffel bag and would play them. His previous girlfriend was Italian so much of the music was from there. I took the piss: ‘ You like Pino, Dino, and Gino’. It was cultural snobbery on my part.

A couple of years ago I watched the TV show ‘My brilliant friend’ by Elena Ferrante. This story of two friends is set in Naples, starting in the 1950s, amongst the post-war ruins. I loved the show and quickly marathoned all three series. I’m waiting to watch series 4. One of the things I liked most was the soundtrack, scored by Max Richter, who also uses contemporary pop songs from the Italian hit parade..

Now I’m a fan of Pino, Dino and Gino. Italian singers have yearning, heart-string pulling voices, while the songs are melodic and unabashedly romantic. I’ve also learned to love French music about which I’ll write later.

Here are some of my Italian favourites:

Vivere Ancora by Gino Paoli. This Italian song writer wrote some bangers. I wondered if he was blind because he always wore large dark Roy Orbison style sunglasses, but he wasn’t. Later in his career, he left showbiz and became a communist politician. He was also accused of tax evasion but managed to avoid jail (unlike Sophia Loren).

Not featured in My brilliant Friend is another classic written by Gino, but sung by the vampish Ornella Vanoni: Senza Fine.

Ornella sung ‘L’Appuntamento’ in My Brilliant Friend.

Another 60s pop song, Nessuno by Mina, featured as well as Tuca, Tuca by Raffaella Carrà. The Vatican objected to Raffaella showing her naked belly button on TV.

The 70s composition ‘Prisencolinensinainciusol’ by Adriano Celentano is in a made-up language designed to sound like American English if you don’t listen too closely. For an early 70s song it sounds incredibly contemporary. Celentano wanted to prove that Italians would listen to any music that sounded American. It was a huge hit. Watch from 2.17 for the crazy dance video.

I am fascinated by other countries’ cultural interpretation of the 60s and 70s. In France this period is called ‘les années ye-ye’ after the ‘yeah yeahs’ in Beatles songs. One of my favourite 60s/70s songs from France is ‘Une belle histoire’ by Michel Fugain. I recently discovered that this is also an Italian song, translated from French, covered by Franco Califano, complete with cheesy medallion man 70s video. Here are the videos.

As for 21st century Italian music, I’m a fan of Maneskin, who are possibly the most successful winners of the Eurovision Song Content since Abba