Too old to go clubbing?

On Sunday morning I woke up with three hard rockers on the pull-out divan in the kitchen. I couldn't even make my cup of morning green tea. (I'm now thinking I should have photographed the little angels.) I stood there thinking, Why do these things happen to me?? Why me?

A few years ago I got talking to a young Italian guy who played in an AC/DC 'tribute' group. Quite a dude. Being the only Australian in the tiny mountain valley where we spend most of the winter, I was seen as a representative of what AC/DC has passed on to the world. What a joke. I was even serenaded at a concert - if you call having Angry Angus circle you with an electric guitar and go spinning about on the splintery wooden floor - and always seemed to be the only one with a handle on the English (strine) language. What a laugh. AC/DC queen for an instant.

The thing is, I might dress like a skinny rock chick now, but Davide/Angus still doesn't know I was a hardcore Bee Gees fan in those years. AC/DC? Nope. I was such a disco snob.

So this is how it went. On Saturday night I had my disco nap and pulled on my jeans and walked up to the club where the guys were playing. My sons were there - hard Aussie/Veneto drinkers - as were a bunch of twenty-year-olds plus a few drunken goons in ski goggles. Most of my friends had hit the couch at home and didn't turn up. Argh! So I watched the musicians scream and head bash in the smoky air, the sound thumping through my heart, until they sang 'You Shook Me All Night Long' (an old fav) and I decided to bail out.

I spent the rest of the night half awake as people staggered into the apartment and fell into beds. Then my alarm went off and it was time to take Fin to ski training.

That is when I found myself standing there looking at the three sleeping rockers. As I looked at them I thought of my uneasiness on the edge of the young crowd that night. Too old to go clubbing? Maybe that night, that club - yeah. Then I remembered all the alcohol, all the crazy dancing, the hangovers, the naughtiness and dirty deeds of my own clubbing years. I remembered the sweating crowds and the delirium, the swollen feet...

And I felt relief. Hangover-free, I picked up my ski boots and we left the house.

The Happy Booker-Alternative Book Award*

I'm sitting here in my favourite room of the house looking at my bookshelf and about to start raving. This is where my piano is stationed and I have a cabinet full of my favourite Fante horsemen. No children are allowed in and guests only by invitation. I would invite Downith for a chat though - Downith has nominated me for the Alternative Booker Award where I share my five favourite books and pass the baton to five blogger mates. More lovely books to add to all of our lists - some of my newest favourites have been through recommendations on blogs!

My all-time Favourite: Nobel Prize winner Patrick White published Voss in 1957 and I am lucky enough to have a hardback 1st edition US copy. It always sits by my bedside, in the hope that some of his brilliance will cross over into my sub-conscious. No harm in hoping. I read all of White's books in an obsessed flush in my teens and twenties and last year read Voss again to see how my older self would respond. It was just as powerful and mesmerising. Ah! The inelegant German explorer Johann Ulrick Voss sets out to cross the harsh Australian continent in the 1850s, but not before finding his soulmate in the niece of his sponsor, Laura Trevelyan, and examining the plight of man through his exquisite doom. White deftly paints the mores of the early colonial settlement and provides a vision of the unflinching landscape and its stark inhabitants. Not an easy read, but transporting, all-encompassing.

A brilliant book: I ordered The Book of Daniel by E.L. Doctorow because a contemporary author I was reading (Peter Salmon, The Coffee Tale) said it was his favourite book and I was made to feel very ignorant. Another complex read, with shifting narration - a device that served to deepen the characters in a colossal and complex way. The central character made me weep; Doctorow's language is breathtaking. The story of the Rosenbergs might have been told in many ways but the disordered time frame, the change in pace and thrust, and again the monumental language which may irritate you or send you into a drugged trance. I think I will have to reread it.

A contemporary master: I have long loved T.C. Boyle's masterful story-telling skills and swift language, his lingering character studies. Water Music, his account of Scottish explorer Mungo Park's search for the source of the Niger River, overturned my world. Last year I read The Women, his story of the women in Frank Lloyd Wright's life. Each woman represented an architectural phase of the great man's life. From tragedy to ruin, from landscape to creation and back. This is a book to remember from a writer who has bottomless talent and drive.

A political case: It is well-known that Ogoni environmental activist Ken Saro-Wiwa was executed in 1995 by the Abacha government for his protest against the appropriation of the Niger delta by petroleum companies (Shell - don't buy it). But I read Sozaboy without wanting to think of this appalling deed. Sozaboy is an African classic, as widely read as Chinua Achebe's essential Things Fall Apart (which it is time I introduced to my kids). Told in the first person using pidgin, the novel is also called a novel in rotten english, and captures all the immediacy, humour, pathos and injustice of life during the Biafran war in  Nigeria. A powerful and chilling anti-war statement. 

A wonderful newbie: I wanted to include Chika Unigwe because she is a writer who is going places. I also picked up word of her novel online and ordered it quickly. On Black Sisters Street tells the stark, cruel story of four exploited African women who are transported to Europe to work in the sex trade in Belgium. The beauty of the book is its failure to brandish these women, or succumb to melancholy or stereotypes. I lived for ten years in West Africa and met many, many strong women. Women whose situations are so different from ours in the West, and yet so fundamentally alike. The wish to live purely, to survive, to raise our children well. **Chika captures this.

Now for five other bloggers who I'll invite to tell us their favourite five:

Kimberley Sullivan

Whispering Gums (I've only mentioned one Australian and only one woman I realise!)

Gwen Moss

Harryipants

Francesca Muir

 *Thank you Downith, my mate in London downpours! 

**Thank you Chika who generously wrote my cover comment for my next book!

Friends with Benefits

Last weekend I was at the Barry White bar looking out for a friend, slowing down after a gazillion slopes on early beers, and half-looking out for my youngest kid. I saw a guy whose daughter is a friend of my son's, sitting alone in the crowded bar. I thought I would be a good girl and go and talk to him. I don't really know him, I just had tired legs and was filling in time, and anyone who knows me knows I am a chatterbox and will talk the leg off a chair.

In less than five minutes he'd out-talked me with some very slick ideas. He also used the word 'power', which is a word I'm not really acclimatised to, given I don't really wield any in most situations (perhaps over my cats?). He mapped out his life very quickly. He was successful, free enough, with a great villa and smashing career (not so great-looking however). Where was this headed? I looked nervously to the bar to a mate wagging a glass of beer in my direction. The nth of the morning.

Then he said the words 'Friends with Benefits' and I spluttered.

He'd started the conversation with, 'I think you are intelligent and anti-conventional.' Big booby trap there. I should have grasped his gist then. And when he dropped 'Friends with Benefits' I almost laughed, 'Oh, I call them F*** Buddies', before realising there was no need to take the conversation any further.

No, I'm not a prude. But back off mate!

Can I just say something, on this International Women's Day? I know this happens everywhere. And will do forever. We all remember Robert Redford's 'Indecent Proposal' to a leggy Demi Moore. His one million dollar will-you-sleep-with-me-one-night. Well, would you? For a million dollars I might (remember I'm a poor writer here), but all I could think last week was that this is where Berlusconi has placed us girls (and I'm not even young and booby!). We are there for the pickings, expected to be silly enough to be swayed by power and cash, by a guy who can't even tell a good joke!

My son came up behind me then. A big squeeze and a giant kid in a bright green ski helmet. Safety. Run girl. Run!

Give me a guy with some attitude and a paisley shirt

Talkin Bout a Revolution

Villa Rotonda

I know you're tired of hearing about it. I am. I am angry. Beyond belief. That Silvio Berlusconi sent last-minute personalised letters to every house in the country. That idiots such as the people in my area were dumb enough to believe his cash-in-hand promises. That this seventy-six-year-old trickster might perhaps represent these people and be what they truly deserve. That this fraudulent vulgar man still wields a stick and people bow to him.

My kids, the next angry generation tired of a geriatric ruling class, of course voted for actor-turned-politician Beppe Grillo, as did so many. 

And now we are in deep shit. With our eighty-seven-year-old President Giorgio Napolitano, stately ex-communist, being called upon to preside. (A thrilling titbit, I once washed up Napolitano's dinner dishes when I was an au pairing on a chic Sicilian island - doubt he remembers that skinny cropped-haired thing).

What to do? Given I risk abusing the villagers if I do my shopping or pay my bills. I realise I've started looking people in the eye and thinking, Did you vote for him? I bet you did! Am I going mad??

A break. Play some Scarlatti. Pull up some weeds. Take a snap of Palladio's divine Villa Rotonda under light snow (don't look the other way where Berlusconi's daughter's ugly new court building is bumbling into shape).

Cat and A

Take your offspring up to the Dolomites and wear a moose hat skiing.

O Italia!

The Art of Writing - a Summer Writers' Retreat in Tuscany

A couple of years ago, when 'The Divorced Lady's Companion to Living in Italy' was accepted for publication, I went to my first writers' event, the wonderful (and scenic) Women's Fiction Festival in Matera in southern Italy. It was here that I met fellow Australian Lisa Clifford, accomplished radio and television journalist and prize-winning author, resident in Florence with her Aussie/Florentine family. Lisa's book 'The Promise' recounts her tug-of-war love affair with her Tuscan boyfriend/future husband and his elegant corner of the world, and 'Death in the Mountains' delves deep into a shocking family mystery.



Last year I drove down to Lisa's for a spot of delicious lunch (Lisa is an excellent cook!) and she revealed her plans for The Art of Writing, a writers' retreat to be held in the inspiring Casentino hills, an area close to her heart, a hidden part of Tuscany where many have gone to seek inspiration (Dante, John Milton; also the setting chosen by Anthony Minghella for 'The English Patient').

Lisa has engaged an array of inspiring tutors and writers including the expert Jim Friels, with a mouthwatering Tuscan menu in place. If I weren't part of the programme with an evening session on grassroots promotion, I'd be signing up right now. Tell us more Lisa!

Why now? Why a writers' retreat?

I’ve lived in Italy for 15 years and had spent 33 years coming back and forth. During that time I wrote three books, two on Tuscany and one on Naples (it’s out with Penguin in November) so I really felt it was time to start teaching and sharing what I’ve learned over the years. I also adore Writers Retreats. The inspiration and good, solid writing that comes from spending secluded time with other writers is invaluable. It had been a dream of mine to set up a programme, my dream programme, based in the Tuscan mountains for some time. It’s an area that has given me so much inspiration and I had wanted to share it for ages. Why do it now? Good question! I suppose I was ready, the tutors (some of whom are friends) were ready too. Everyone voiced such wonderful enthusiasm and support for my idea that it really formed legs of its own and took off. English writers in Italy spend a lot of time on their own, locked in their offices, writing away. I wanted to be with other writers. I wanted to grow and share with emerging writers and spend more time learning from established writers. To set up my own writers retreat seemed like a win win solution!

How long? How far?

The retreat will be held one hour’s drive away from Florence. It is five days and six nights. Every morning we have lectures and workshops and in the afternoons we write, have our manuscripts assessed in private sessions with James. In the evenings we have a good time with guest speakers and wine and yummy food. The guest speakers that cannot come personally are going to live skype with us ie: Michelle Fabio from Gemelli Press and US literary agent, April Eberhardt.

Tell us about your ties to this area.

My husband and his family all come from Casentino. I adore, adore, adore it. Tourists don’t know about it so none of the people there have tourist burn out syndrome. They are friendly and cannot do enough to help you grow to love their Casentino as much as they do. I first mentioned it in The Promise and then I set Death in the Mountains there, amongst the poor Tuscan farming community. My mother-in-law gave me the family farm house when she became too old to look after it. So I have a genuine, profound love of the land and what it produces, also the people who produce it. For me, it was the perfect place to book out an entire agriturismo (b and b farm house that must by law put 50% local produce on the table) and get writers to immerse themselves in their craft.

I'm a beginner/stuck on my second novel/not certain of my plot line. Can you help me out? Will I feel silly?

The Art of Writing’s goal is to help ALL writers with their stories in an atmosphere where they won’t feel intimidated. It’s been so interesting to watch enrolments come in. Many are beginners, there are also those who have half a book written and need help moving it along. All our emerging writers have ideas but are not sure how to use them. That’s where I can help. When I say that I think I have found my purpose in life helping people understand how to translate their ideas, I am not kidding. It gives me enormous pleasure to talk through a plot line and help an emerging writer understand what will work and what’s too much. Emerging writers think they have to have many ideas and that they’ll put all of them into one book. Just one, good, solid idea that can be fleshed out, extrapolated, is more than enough.

I heard the menu is astounding. Could you elaborate?

Delighted to! We will eat the local produce and will have five courses (including the veggies) every evening. Ombretta Stoppioni is the agriturismo’s owner and she has labored over every meal plan. From artichoke soufflé for antipasto to the area’s specialties like homemade tortelloni stuffed with spicy potato and fresh tomato sauce to pork in a fennel sauce on a bed of bay leaf cream, Ombretta has really outdone herself with this menu. It’s exciting to be a part of putting this together as the meals alone give us a chance to taste Casentino.

Go on, tell us.. What's the best thing about calling Florence home?

I never tire of how close Florence is to the rest of Europe. In a little over an hour I can be in London. By car we can drive to France in about 5 or 6 hours. As I write this we are skiing in an area with two names - Mont Blanc/ Monte Bianco. These slopes are right on the border of France and Italy. I love that. Travel is a huge part of my life and being able to access Morocco direct from Pisa airport is so wonderful. I will take the kids to Fez for a week in summer and it will cost a song to get there. How fantastic is that? Florence is so well situated. And the city itself is one of the most beautiful in the world. I will never take Florence for granted and I will never be able to see all that it has to offer.

Lisa thanks for your words and good luck with The Art of Writing. See you in June! Xxxcat


***STOP PRESS***
I've just heard that all ten places have been booked for this year's The Art of Writing. So if you think you'd like to take part in Lisa's wonderful venture do keep this in mind for 2014!

Girlfriend in a Coma*

I said I wouldn't. I said I wouldn't give any more air space to this man. But as Italy descends into election frenzy and the options are haranguing you from posters on every street corner, it's difficult not to be absolutely frightened at the prospect of our ex-Leader cramming in some votes.

I heard him speak on the TV last week. Groomed within an inch of his 76 years, newly engaged to some 'carne fresca' in the form of a booby 26 year old devotee (founding member of the group 'Silvio We Miss You' Goldigger anyone?), Silvio informed the public he would reimburse cash-in-hand a disliked housing tax installed by technocrat Prime Minister Mario Monti to help fill the country's empty coffers. What a piece of work! And where to find the necessary 4billion euro? Of course! By taxing Italians working in Switzerland and reducing funding for political parties…

Whaaat? Apart from being dangerous propaganda for minds dulled by years of Berlusca's sparkling promises and lies (do remember that he started out as a sleazy cruise ship crooner), it's just not possible!

Silvio also promised that there would be no wealth tax, and this month the billionaire also managed to haul in bad-boy striker Mario Balotelli to his AC Milan football team. Rake in the votes!

Anything else in your pocket Silvio? Oh yes there were those minor silly comments praising Mussolini (a Fascist who derailed this country and deported Jews during WWII) during a Holocaust Memorial event. And his harmless comment about 'kickbacks being normal in business'. Brush those under the carpet. Oh yes there are even people who are happy to hear these things.

Italy is going to be a scrambling circus this week. Helpfully, Berlusconi's trial for paid sex with an underage prostitute is on hold as he fights what he calls his last political battle (pulling us all down the sink?). He's had lots of prime time to slam all his opponents on his own television stations, and then pound whoever is left to read the newspapers absolutely witless. His values - grinning hypocrisy, law-breaking pragmatism, soulless devaluation of morals - have so deeply permeated a large portion of Italian society that many who aren't with him are lulled into thinking his showy mockery of a democracy is the safest way to go.

Recent worrying figures have Berlusconi's Rightwing Coalition at 28.7%, just 4.9% behind the creaking Centre Left Party of Pier Luigi Bersani at 33.6%, whom Berlusca suggested might be more suited to a job as ‘sindaco di Bologna’ i.e. Mayor of Bologna.

But I am not alone in feeling revolted, shocked and tired of what this man has created in twenty years of national decline. Do look at the link to documentary trailer Girlfriend in a Coma*, co-directed by ex-Economist editor Bill Emmott, whom Berlusconi called the E-Communist (what a joke) when he and his politics were slammed. Silvio was able to block the screening of this film in Rome until after the election carnival.

Even that tells us so much.



***And if you're worried that I don't have anything positive to say about today's Italy do read my guest post Ten Things I Love About Italy on Cathy Powell's great blog An Italophile

The Hills are Alive with the Sound of Barry White