Alive and kicking

Hello everybody! 

I feel like this puppy, I need a few weeks on a beach, with my peeps, loads of cocktails, hunky men as slaves and of course last but not least, yummy food!!  I have my priorities you know...

I have spent the last 5 weeks helping my mum through various doctors and hospital appointments and of course, if that is not enough, I was at the vet most of those days too because my poor furry friends, Lha Lha, Tensing (two Lhasa Apso dogs) and Mini-Max the feline friend, took turns being ill and on most occasions I went with either all of them or in pairs to the vet.  On top of that, I also did all the cooking, cleaning and shopping as my brother felt it was his turn to have a break.  Don't you just love the men in your lives - NOT.  

I had some funny moments with the gang and thought to share it with you, but unfortunately the computer I had access to is so dated that whenever I tried to log on to google, it just froze and eventually I gave up.    So please bear with me until the grey cells start firing on all cylinders again and I can get some of my stuff up and running. 

I hope you have all been well! 

xx 

Miz Ratti

Bella Italia

Tuscany

A couple of years ago I was getting ready for my annual holiday to one of my favorite destinations - bella Italia.  Exact location, Castellina in Chianti (Chiantishire as it’s fondly been nicknamed as so many British have bought property there), to a house that my family and I have rented many times over the last decade.   It is a lovely 16th century country house that has been carefully reconstructed and renovated according to the style of the region by a German couple and is high up on a hill in and amongst this forest of pine trees, cypress trees, chestnuts, oak, beeches and fir trees.  Very isolated, very quiet, just what a stressed out city worker needs on vacation.  Look at these pictures, see them and weep, ahhh fabulous.

our terrace view at dawn

Castellina in Chianti

I’m an avid reader and unfortunately read also very fast and go through books like nobody’s business, depending on the size of the novel, to about 2 books a day.  So of course my holiday trips are not suitcases full of millions of outfits per day as some of my friends, but rather millions of books as I cannot bear to be without a good book and I am rather old fashioned and love a proper book and not all these electronic readers as it’s just not the same. 

A friend had given me a book as a present for this trip and she choose it purely by its title ‘a death in Tuscany‘ by Michele Ferrara, a crime story, very tongue in cheek, was she trying to say something?  I really enjoyed the book, and the style it was written and decided to look into more books by this Italian author and at the same time I stumbled across another Italian author called Andrea Camilleri who writes this crime series about a detective, Commissario Montalbano.  This series is set in a Sicilian town, featuring this Commissario,  who loves good food, is quite moody, eccentric, egotistical bit of a loner, much to the disgust of his long suffering girl friend who lives in Genoa and tries to get him to marry her and have children and he is very set in his ways.  

Commissario Montalbano (or better known as Luca Zingaretti)

The stories are really entertaining as it brings to the reader the culture and nature of the Italians and of course, Sicily being just that tad more.  This author really has a way with writing and some of the characters in this series just makes me laugh out loud.  The crazy policeman who mans the phone at this police station, who can never get the names correct of anyone who calls and you end up having a guessing game.  The forensic team, the politics with the Police Commissioner, the politicians, the mafia families in that area.  It totally brings to mind how life is out there.  

I found out that in Italy they have made a television series of these books and the series have been dubbed in quite a few languages.  So a few weeks back I bought a DvD just to see if I would like it and have just had a Montalbano fest.  The casting was also spot on, just what I imagined it to be whilst reading the books.  Very well done RAI (Italian state owned broadcaster for television and radio) I, of course, bought all the rest of the available DvDs and have spent 2 weeks watching it and if you love crime series like I do, then you will like it and the scenery of course is amazing.   Most of the series is almost entirely shot in the Sicilian city of Ragusa and surrounding towns  (in the book it’s a fictional town called Vigata).

Ragusa - Sicily (fictional town Vigata)

There is something about this country.  If you have travelled a fair bit to Italy, or have Italian friends, you will know what I’m speaking about. What a beautiful country, everywhere you go there is history, beautiful buildings, amazing scenery, I don’t think I have gone somewhere yet that I have not liked in this country.  

This is a race of people, who love good food, good life, La Dolce Vita! good clothes, fabulous cars, houses, wine, gelato, the list is endless and I for one am a huge fan of all things Italian.  They know how to live, what is important to them and I think when you are in that country you sense that they have it very well balanced.  None of this crazy running around, rushing to work, not having lunch, or just popping out for a quick bite to eat, working weekends, not taking your holidays and so on.  

Now my dear readers, if you are an Italy fan and have travelled there, you will know what I’m speaking about.  

I love that in these little towns, the people live and work there and behave as they please.  They have opening timings on their shops, but its not necessarily the case that they will be there to open the shop as mentioned.  When they do eventually turn up, they just shrug their shoulders and offer you an espresso and if you can understand each other’s languages start chatting and just like that you find your agro of waiting for them just disappearing in a puff of smoke and you end up being charmed by them. 

In the evening, there is an Italian ritual, where people go for a walk, ‘passeggiata’ as they call it.  A gentle stroll through the old part of town, or where the shops are.  Where new romance blossoms, where you sit and have a glass of wine or bubbly and gossip, or for people to meet up with friends or neighbours and catch up with each others news, some old boys as I call them watching out for the pretty women, enjoying the fashion show, especially on a Sunday.  Italians even will drive to another town, or to the coast just for passeggiata.  I love this tradition, you dress up nice, the sun is slowly going down, people passing each other, exchanging smiles, flirting with cute guys and then, in my case, going out for an amazing meal to end the wonderful day.   Ahhh La Dolce Vita!

One time, whilst enjoying a glass of wine and reading one of my many books in this gorgeous villa up on a hill, my mother noticed smoke from a neighbouring hill and a fire seemed to have started.  My mother, bless her, all very stressed from her job started running around, in a panic and getting very annoyed that I just kept on sitting there and reading on the lounger.  Convinced we were going to die on this hill top.  I told her that there was no way I was going to drive through this hillside, on these really tiny, dirt tracks , where we could go no faster then 10km per hour and possibly be driving towards the fire.  That if the fire came close to us, I would just get into the pool and wait for firemen, wearing uniforms made from Armani to come and rescue us.  Well you can imagine my mother’s reaction to this.  I then had to phone up the local fire station, where the chap couldn’t speak a word of English and there I was with my few sentences of Italian trying to explain what was going on and my mother in my other ear telling me to tell him everything she was saying.  What, do I work for the UN?  Has someone failed to tell me this.  Needless to say, the conversation got both of us no where and the fireman kept telling me, its ok, no problemo, calma etc.  Eventually he got fed up and disconnected the line.  That did make me laugh, but my poor mother was not amused.  Running around, flinging clothes into the suitcase....  I eventually called up the owner of the villa in Frankfurt, got him to call his buddy in this town in Chianti and we were then called back to say, the fire is all under control, to not worry and if we need to evacuate, they would call us.  Now not to mock my mother, the fire was serious, they had two fire copters flying overhead for near enough 5 hours, dropping what they drop onto fires to put them out.  Which they did!

Or one time when my friend and I were in Turin for a long weekend and at the end of our evening dancing, we wanted to get a taxi to go back to our hotel, we couldn’t find a taxi at all.  The area was by the river, only clubs there and it was very late at night.  Eventually we walked up to a group of Carabinieri (the national gendamerie of Italy, policing both civilian and military) and asked them if they knew the telephone number of a taxi company.  It was priceless, all these guys and not one of them had a telephone number of a taxi company.  One chap called his girlfriend up to ask, the other a friend, it was too cute for words, mixed of course with lots of flirting and conversation.  They were willing to drop us off, but they were there to work and we didn’t want to get them in trouble, so eventually I told my friend, lets forget this, thanked them and then walked back to the hotel.   

Or being in a restaurant and having a bottle of wine sent over because the old boy at the next table thought we were beautiful (and he really didn’t want anything from us) and you toast him with the glass of wine, grazie mille (thank you very much) and continue your dinner.  

Or when I was holidaying on the Amalfi coast, during one of the world cup football year and my sister in law didn’t appreciate us watching football during the day so much so we were sight seeing in Sorrento and for lunch ended up in this restaurant where the staff let me go every now and again into the kitchen to watch the first half of the game with them, what fun, Italy vs (I think) Korea game.  Then using the local bus service to go back to Priano (little town next to Positano).  Now picture this, if you have never been to the Amalfi coast, you have this road meandering along the coast, where sometimes its so narrow the cars almost touch each other whilst passing, with a bus driver who was listening to the second half of this game, upset and frustrated with his national football team as they were losing, shouting out encouragement whilst driving this treacherous road, screaming at the radio, obscenities and all and the bus erratically careening around corners, just missing the oncoming traffic.  In the middle of all this, I was seriously getting car sick, what with my tummy full of food and in hysterics, laughing at this driver and the situation.  Well I lost my lunch just outside our hotel by the bus stop and luckily blamed it on my 6 year old niece (much to her disgust) hey, what do you have children for, if not to blame them for something.  So embarrassing, but makes me still laugh out today.   

Positano - Amalfi

Ravello - Amalfi 

To end this blog post on another Italian delight, Fabio Cannavaro - ex captain of the National football team - I had to put him in girls, for the more prude please look away now!!

Viva Italia!!

I love this country, I think in my past life I must have been Italian because when I go there, I just have this really familiar feeling, like I have been there before.  Nowhere is perfect, but I do think that this is one of the places on my list, warts and all.   

Ciao

Havana to Kew

It’s that time of year again when the summer is nigh and we have some fabulous concerts in this lovely city.  One of my favorite places to go to for an outdoor concert is at Kew Gardens.  

The Royal Botanic Gardens, Kew, usually referred to simply as Kew Gardens and often shortened to ‘Kew’ are 121 hectares of gardens and botanical glasshouses located between Richmond and Kew in southwest London, England.  

It has the largest herbarium in the world (collection of preserved plant specimens in plain English), important seedbank, one of the world’s largest botanical collections, forensic horticulture, world’s largest surviving victorian glass structure and has one of the largest compost heaps in Europe, made from green waste from the gardens and the waste from the stables of the Household Cavalry.  The compost is mainly used in the gardens, but on occasion has been auctioned as part of a fund-raising event for the gardens.  You didn’t think I would put that point in about the compost heap did you... but I didn’t want to bore you with the usual list of things at Kew, although these are just but a few. 

Now, the concert we went to see was a 13 member band called “Orquesta Buena Vista Social Club”.  

 “The Buena Vista Social Club” was a members club in Havana, Cuba that held dances and musical activities, a popular place for musicians to meet and play during the 1940s.  The genre: salsa, bolero, guajira and son. 

In the 1990s, nearly 50 years after the club was closed, it inspired a recording with traditional Cuban musicians, some of whom were veterans who had performed at the club during the height of its popularity.

The recording, named Buena Vista Social Club after the Havana institution, became an international success, and the ensemble was encouraged to perform.

Several surviving members of the Buena Vista Social Club currently tour worldwide, to popular acclaim, with new members and occasionally the solo singer Omara Portuondo,  who by the way was the only female member of this group and a legend, as part of a 13 member band called Orquesta Buena Vista Social Club.  Omara Portuono is 80 years old and my word is she a live wire.  I hope I can still dance and move as she does at that age.  Such a beautiful woman with an amazing voice and such a character. 

Concerts at Kew are rather special, not only are they set in these beautiful grounds but also that you turn up an hour or so before the start of the concert and people bring along food and drinks and it turns into this massive picnic in front of the stage and it’s great fun.  

The weather at first was overcast and the greatest fear was rain, but just as we got there, the sun decided to make an appearance and it was a lovely summer’s evening.  So the afternoon started off with lots of food, wine, bubbly and of course good friends which is in my opinion a great recipe for a fab evening.  

Now just to give you an idea of the event, you obviously have this lovely garden all around with hundreds of people having a picnic, then an area where once the music starts you can get up and dance and behind the stage, which is the background to all concerts at Kew, Temperate House - the world’s largest surviving victorian glass structure.  

I love this music, there is something about salsa that just makes me feel happy and seems to have a direct connection to my hips as I have to get up and dance.  It brings to mind the sun, the sea, mojitos and passion, a passion for life, for fun and for love.  

The atmosphere was amazing, it makes me think of times when people dressed up in beautiful dresses, went to these dance halls and you would have these orchestras and singers and people would dance all night.  I often wish I had a time machine so that you can go back in time to experience this first hand.  How amazing would that be.   

Most of us who couldn’t sit still whilst this music was playing went to the front to dance, or rather try to dance salsa, it was something, but I wouldn’t call it salsa, but hey, it’s the thought or rather effort that counts.  Of course, there always has to be someone or some people who can’t behave in public and unfortunately I and the lovely Kerstin found them.  Now really, I have to complain, who, at a concert, with all these gardens around us brings a six year old child on the shoulders, of his father I’m assuming, who of course by then is drunk into this massive crowd of dancing people and decides to body slam his friends with this child on his shoulder and then you have the other set of people who decide to bring their drinks onto the dance floor while they just stand there drinking and looking on.  Needless to say, this was going to end in tears and it’s a shame that my mother taught me better manners as you would have seen a grown man cry after I body slammed a certain part of his anatomy.  There I am innocently enjoying myself with my friends, dancing away, only to be drenched from head to toe down my back in beer by one of the morons who stands and drinks and the other moron who is drunk with a child on his shoulders body slamming away.   Seriously!!

As you can imagine, I was not happy and the look on my face said it all.  There I am, soaked and stinking of beer with these utter idiots around me.  It always happens to me.  After a few choice words which I won’t repeat as I would probably be banned by the blog society, I had to push this away and just try and enjoy the rest of my evening.  The occasional glare ensured that they moved away from us slightly.  Why do people have to behave like this, what is it with people who think that unless they are drunk they won’t be able to enjoy themselves, it really spoils it for the rest of the people who are there to dance and listen to music.  

Thus ended my beautiful evening, with me going home and people looking at me as if I were some alcoholic as I was reeking of beer and looking rather worse for wear with stained and smelly clothes.  NOT AMUSED. 

I would like to thank my lovely friend Lannah who arranged this all for us and for the rest of the girls for making it a lovely evening and of course to our personal photographer, Kerstin, who always ensures that we have the memories recorded - see you all there next year! 

It's Wimbledon time

I’m a huge tennis fan and one of my favourite tournaments on the ATP World Tour is Wimbledon.  There is nothing quite like this tournament, I don’t know if it’s all the tradition or pomp to it but I love it.  Ask any player and they will say the same. 

Wimbledon is one of the last remaining Grand Slam tournament still played on a natural surface, grass.  It is also the oldest even of its time.

Unfortunately I’ve never been able to go and watch any of the games at Wimbledon itself as the All England Lawn Tennis Club has a ballot system - which has been running since 1924 - whereby the public apply for tickets.  Even that is no guarantee for success as demand always exceeds supply.

Year after year, thousands of people also queue up outside the All England Club in the hope of catching some Centre Court action during the two weeks of the championships.  

That is one thing that really irritates me here in the UK, why can they not sell tickets like every where else in the world, as first come first serve system.  Look at the fiasco of the Olympic tickets for 2012, don’t get me even started on that!

This year I have been able to watch Wimbledon tennis day in and day out,  due to my being a lady of leisure and I am taking full advantage and watching as much as I can.   

But may I just say, what on earth is happening to the women’s tennis?  Ladies, what’s with the noises??  The press call it grunting, but does that sound like grunts to you?  It’s more like cats being tortured or something that common decency stops me from mentioning what it does sound like and I think you all know what I mean.  

I have not been able to watch a single game with the volume up because after just 10 minutes of hearing the horrible noises coming out of these players it is just unbelievable.  Every single serve, the high pitched sound that echos and is then reverberated by the other player.  I think there has been only one single game that I watched the other day where the ladies didn’t moan their way through it.  To use a famous argument from one of my favourite tennis players: “YOU CANNOT BE SERIOUS”,

It is a sad day indeed when I have stopped watching women’s tennis after so many years staunchly supporting it.  Do none of your families, friends, coaches etc. show you the recordings after or say, you need to stop that moan session.  It is horrendous.  How can anyone concentrate with those high pitch moans.  Are you not embarrassed by it?  I was watching the Nadal vs Del Potro game the other afternoon and could hear from my neighbour’s house the moans coming through the walls and no, before you ask, it wasn’t something else.   

So ladies, clean up your act, you can be a powerful player, look at all the tennis greats, you didn’t hear them moan their way through their games - so stop, seriously, stop, otherwise you won’t have anyone watching. 

I now give my sole attention to the men’s tennis instead and it’s no hardship as hey, I like the eye candy too and may I say, what nice candy it is too. 

So come on Rafael!!  Oh, and if the sports clothes sponsor of Rafa are reading this blog, bring back the sleeveless shirts!!! 

Midsommerberg Murders

This story is about my feline friend, Mr. Mini-max Montgomery.  Background history: Mini-max, English by birth, moved to Germany from Newmarket as a young lad and his job – mouser to an aristocratic household where my mother worked.  

There is nothing mini about this cat as it’s twice the size of a normal cat, not that he is ‘fat’ per se, and I don’t like to use the ‘f’ word.  It’s just he enjoys his food, a true gourmand and my sous chef whenever I’m visiting and in the kitchen cooking.  

Last summer my mother was for a very long time in hospital and during her absence the staff at the house decided to leave the cellar door open in the kitchen for Mini so that he could come and go as he pleased without having to bypass the dogs into the gardens.  Just to explain further, for some reason also, last year there was a huge problem with mice as most people we spoke with in the village were facing the exact same thing.  Now, as you can imagine, cellar door, kitchen, 100 year old country home, need I say more.  After coming home one night late from the hospital, I went into the kitchen to make myself a cup of tea and switched on the light and both I and the mouse saw each other and just froze.  I cannot say who was more frightened, me or the mouse - so I let out this huge scream and ran!  I know, I’m a wimp, what can I say…  

After speaking to the lady of the house, Mini was kept in the kitchen where he normally slept when his owner was travelling in the hope that he would catch this mouse.   As you know we cannot have such a problem in a kitchen.  Well, little did we realise what a problem it was, the kitchen and the house was overrun with it.  I know, I shudder every time I think about.  So poor Mini was put on a diet of mice only and boy did he do his job.  As I’m such an early riser, I was unfortunately always first at the scene of the crime on most days.  I normally ran out to catch one of the gardeners to clean up or, hang my head in shame, asked my invalid mother who would be home from the neurological rehabilitation hospital over the weekends to do the honours.

I digress.  I decided to call Mini the serial killer of Sommerberg as he was very prolific and had a very strange way of placing his victims.  He mainly decapitated them and would also detach a foot from the body and place just an inch away, so at a glance the body would be in one piece.  Once the crime scene was finished with, we would then take a piece of kitchen roll to lift the body by its tail and it would just fall apart like a jigsaw puzzle.  I know, I’m being very descriptive, but I have to give you an insight into this killer’s mind.

Ahh, there was nothing more prouder then Mini in that moment.  In the mornings when I would inch into the kitchen to check, I usually would glance at him first on his perch by the window and his body language would clue me in on the situation.  “All hail Caesar” would spring to mind!  He would be sitting there, proud profile like the Sphinx by the Pyramid of Khafre, his glance all cool and arrogant, basking in his glory – saying “see, look, look at me”.  

I had to of course praise him and tell him what a wonderful cat he was, which let us face it, he was!!  I would pat that big chest of his, my fingers lost in layers of fur and rolls of ‘ahem’ muscles and listen to the motor kick start and his purring fill the morning air with his satisfaction, the best of the best, as, really dear readers, he was.  

As the summer passed and it turned into one of the harshest winters we had in history, this problem went away and we were once more a peaceful household, mouse free on the inside, with the occasional carcass left on our door step or on my mother’s window sill as a gift from Mini.  

As I mentioned, this was an aristocratic house and the late Count in his youthful days would hunt and we had along a very long corridor in this house heads mounted of the animals he hunted (horrible, I know, but such were the days).  There was also a TV room, named the bear room as there was a huge bear skin rug and some more heads of the hunted.  Now the reason why I bring this up is because just recently on one of her walks, my mother noticed one of the dogs at the outside of this window, from the garden looking in to this bear room and he would not go away.  She came closer to have a look as he was getting too engrossed in whatever it was that was fascinating him.  As she looked down, she saw this bizarre sight.  My mother had lost 50% of her sight last year, so it takes a while also for her brain to register things she sees.  So she took a real close look and suddenly realised what it was and let loose this rollicking laugh.  

There along the ledge of this window that looked into the bear room and the hunting trophies, were rows of mice’s heads.  There must have been about 10 of them (ten heads, not 10 rows).  One after the other, placed side by side, with the tip of the nose pointed upwards.  Mini had over time, collected and presented this row of heads in order to create his own ‘trophy room’ so to speak.   

Now some people might think, what on earth are you laughing about, why do you find this funny or think even, ahhh that is so cute.  Well it’s because this cat is just one of a kind.  Such an eccentric mind, such a character that keeps us so amused and entertained and who has become such a dear member of my family.  Why did he do this, what was he thinking.  I often wish I could read his mind.  I have never had cats in my life, it was a doggy household, but this cat has made a cat fan out of me because he just is such a character who amuses me constantly and shows me such love and affection.  

Ladies and Gentlemen, I present to you, the serial killer of Sommerberg and my big boy, Mini-max Montgomery:

“ALL HAIL MINI-MAX”

Ode to the Nose

I have always wanted to write and was contemplating a creative writing course but they were fully booked till the end of the year and after many encouragements and comments of JUST WRITE from a friend, I have decided to put fingers to keyboard and write.   So in her honour,  this first story is for you Mrs. CC.

Mrs. CC and I met at work and have over the years become good friends.  We are both great gourmands and enjoy trying out some of the amazing restaurants we have in this fair city of ours.  As you can imagine, in friendship, you start talking about all sorts of things and little by little you find out lots of facts about each other and during one of our many ‘city lunching‘ sessions,  it came out that she has a thing for noses.  Yes, my dear Readers you did read correctly, NOSES.   

Now to me and maybe others  a nose doesn’t really register very high or at all on our list of things to first notice on a man.   But to my friend, it is.  I have never seen someone get so flustered or blush over the sighting of a good nose, its quite delightful and makes me laugh time and time again and as you can imagine we have the funniest discussions on noses.  

However, the most extraordinary thing has happened, I find myself looking out for a good nose.  I cannot help myself, I do this all the time, whilst commuting, walking around town, shopping or sitting in restaurants - arrggghh she has turned me into a nose addict!!   

So this is how “Ode to the Nose’ has come about and I thought I would start with a few samples of some of the best noses out there in the celebrity world, just to give you a taster of what I’m talking about, maybe create some more addicts.  

Dear Readers, feel free to comment, to debate or better yet, let me know if I have left out a great nose.  So here they are, and in no particular order:

Richard Armitage 

This nose is elegant, classic, has an aristocratic look to it, and that profile, look at the all around view, need I say more... and to think that he once said he was just a beanpole with a big nose.  Richard, if you are reading this, look at me, look back at me!

Adrien Brody

Oh yeah, your mama did good!  Look at the slope of that nose, look how long it is, Mrs. CC described it as a depressed nose, quite an adept description, wouldn’t you say? 

Andy Garcia 

I like a nose that comes close to the top lip, quite an arrogant nose, he knows it!

Rowan Atkinson

Now he has quite a charming and charismatic nose I find.

Nicolaj Coster-Waldau

Not many blond men have good noses, Mrs. CC and I found the majority of the spectacular noses were on dark haired men.  But I remembered a good one and he has an amazing nose, so proud, so strong, so bold. 

Steve Carrell 

Really long but instead of pointing down, it comes straight out - out and proud. 

Patrick Dempsey 

Perfectly suits his face, slightly aquiline nose, the tip has a slight bump and then tilts down to a nice en pointe, with classical lines to the nostrils.

Bradley Cooper

Nicely streamlined, a bit of a foxy feel to it. 

Dermot Mulroney

Up close and personal, intense, distinctive but strong - oooh yah.

Henning Baum

I couldn’t forget my favourite German actor, who is blond, so that makes it two now.   Just like him, big, strong, but all encompassing.   

Kevin Spacey

Strong, masculine, he wears his nose, it doesn't wear him - double oscar winning nose!

John Cusack

A very long, dapper but cheeky looking nose. 

  


Colin Firth

Look at that nose, beautiful, what can I say, sorry, am having a moment here...

So there you have it.  I hope you have enjoyed them and if you find yourself starting to look out for those  special noses then I’m sorry to have to tell you, you are a nose addict - welcome to my world! 


I do have to apologise for the awful spacing issues between each picture and caption, but in the editing of the post it looks perfect and when I then publish it, it looks like the above.  Probably wasn't a good idea for my first time blog post to use so many pictures, but it was worth it - don't they all look well lush! 

Yours truly 

Miz Ratti