The Year of the Book: End of Year Review

Regular readers of this blog will have noticed, with relief, that I've posted far fewer items than usual this year. Paradoxically this is due to my logorrhea having increased rather than diminished. My translation of two texts about the Apennine Sibyl having been finally published this July, I've turned my attention to writing a history of Montefalcone and have got as far as 1849. As the market for this is even smaller than that for a book about the Sibyl I am intending to publish it as an ebook, using Apple's iBooks Author app. Once that's done, I'll think about doing a Kindle version for those sad souls who don't possess an iPad.
    Pat as usual visited the UK several times: in November she saw a performance by the Vienna Riding School at Wembley Arena. In September she stayed with Laurie and Steve at their home in Boston, Massachusetts. In contrast, I've steered clear of John Bull's island - and his former north american colony - completely this year, though I guess I'll have to venture over next year to get some new glasses. In July Pat and I went to Ravenna for a couple of days to celebrate our third-seventh wedding anniversary. The mosaics were marvellous, the ubiquitous cyclists a pain in the backside.
    However the lack of travel has been more than compensated by our having visitors. Chris Bell came over in June, lured by my promise that the month is always sunny in Italy. It rained most of the time he was here; maybe I should have gone into politics or advertising. Candy & Quinn fared better when they came over in August. Maggie and Phil came to stay in September, and kept me company while Pat was on one of her trips to England. As always, the day boys - Tony and Shona, John and Judy, and Jane - were entertaining company. Our neighbours Norman and Jayne have sold their holiday flat to another English couple, Keith and Elaine, who seem very pleasant. They both worked in FE - Keith ending up as principal of Bristol College, a large FE  conglomerate in the eponymous city.
  On a sadder note, our friend and builder, Peppe Alessandroni, passed away in July. And, as I write, Sophy and Adam, having spent a few days with us, are on their way to his sister's in England for Christmas. Candy, who has just started a new job as Marketing Manager for a housing association, and Quinn are unable to come over this year, so Pat and I will spend Christmas on our own for the first time for many years.
   This year we're having a traditional English Christmas dinner  - a goose, not a turkey as the semi-literate idiots who are currently writing and producing the Archers seem to believe. One of the soap's characters having stated erroneously that A Christmas Carol featured a turkey, I was interested to see how Carol Tregorran's reading from the story at the Grundys' Christmas Turkey Pardon would pan out. Obviously someone alerted them in time, as the reading stopped short before we got to Scrooge ordering a goose for the Cratchetts. Which, of course, made the reading pointless.
   And, of course, folly is widespread as this year's European elections showed. And the europhobic  poison is spreading to Italy. The potty-mouthed comedian, Grillo's, anti-euro Five Star Movement attracted a fair number of votes. The racist Northern League, under its new leader Salvini has changed from working for a federal Italy or an independent northern Italy within the EU, to wanting to withdraw from the EU. He's allied himself with Marie Le Pen in the European Parliament. Fortunately, anti-EU sentiment is not endemic in Italy and the pro-EU PD increased its share of the vote at the European elections. I note that Cameron has pulled a masterstroke in The UK by proposing that Scottish MPs should no longer have a vote on matters relating solely to England. So a Tory majority for ever: kiss goodbye to the NHS and the BBC as those two organisations, subject to constant vilification in the tabloid press, are sold of to his chums. At least in Italy corruption is out in the open, in the UK unless you subscribe to Private Eye you think it doesn't exist.
  On second thoughts, perhaps I'll pass on next year's visit to the UK.