My Big Adventure

While Husband was busy putting up gates I plucked up my courage and drove to the Mercato all on my own!

This was after I'd collected some horse poo from the track and put it round the roses. 

As I said driving is easy in this part of Italy; I might have been less keen to drive around Rome. But having arrived there safely I set about gathering the things I needed: I'd decided to make some brownies as a farewell treat.

Everything went well until I looked for brown sugar. I trawled all the food aisles and obvious - you'd think - places several times but the only sugar I could find was icing. I decided I'd have to ask someone and plucked up my courage again. The asking was easy: I had it all planned. It was the reply I was worried about. This was Italy; the reply would not be a grunt and an "aisle 6". And it wasn't. 

"Italian Italian Italian surgele, Italian Italian Italian," accompanied by waving of arms and pointing.

"Grazie."

I headed in the direction indicated and towards the freezers at the far end of the shop.  Where I found the sugar next to the fizzy drinks. I suppose there is logic in that.

Buoyed up by this success I started a conversation with a woman in the queue. That is, I nudged her, pointed at her purple hair and said, "Bella." She and the shop assistant did the rest. I nodded and smiled. I drove back home very proud of myself.

To try and help out a bit I did some cooking but my plan to do a French-style Boeuf Bourgignon was nearly scuppered by my inability to open the wine.

The only corkscrew I could find - yes, corkscrew! Who uses corks these days?! - was a weeing boy. And it came off in my hand!