It’s fair to say that the Italian people don’t like rain, if you need proof, pop along to any social gathering and watch as they flee when it starts to rain.
In the autumn I was at the festival of the bells in Lanciano when it began raining, the crowds that were gathered around the abundant stalls selling ceramic bells dissolved in an instant into shop doorways, under awnings and crowding into the open doorways of bars and restaurants.
This dislike of rain was again proven on Friday when I went along to the local open market, streets that are normally teeming with shoppers and cluttered with stalls were deserted. hardly any stalls had bothered to turn up and the only shoppers where the diehard, we need fresh fruit and veg brigade – who left as soon as they’d purchased their provisions.
I took a walk along the main street, there was only around seven stalls, set up in their usual spot, which made them look odd with no neighbouring stall beside them. During my (pointless) visit I spotted a sign on a house that was telling all and sundry that a baby had been born.
I quite like the Italian way of sharing the news of a birth with passers by, the hanging of a pink or blue rosette on the house must cut down on the amount of time a visitor would pop by just to enquire on the new arrivals gender. The house in question displayed that the baby was a boy, and the stork attached to the balcony implied it arrived without any bedroom antics having taken place.
So with the market literally a washout, I switch on the iPod and walk back to my car as Project B starts to play Summer Dreaming. Kelly Rowland sings, ‘Come on over, let’s have some fun, dancing in the morning sun.’ Okay, lyrically it’s no masterpiece but least on a miserable wet day, there’s some sunshine in my ears.