“What are you doing?” shouts the old man at the fish market. “You’re painting the fish black! It’s a Mussolini fish!” Lucia, half-laughing and half-horrified, tries to quiet him down, but he’s having none of it. It’s about 9am and … Continue reading
The below account of what happened on 27 November 2011 was originally published on my now defunct Cowbird profile. At the time I needed to write about it, but didn’t want to rehash the details a million times with everyone … Continue reading
“Signora! Sig-NOR-a!” It’s the market trader’s call. It’s not directed at anyone in particular, as I thought when I first started going to La Fiera, as the daily market in Catania is known, but more a general call to arms. … Continue reading
As you walk around the Centro Storico of Catania, you may notice that many trattorie and restaurants have stone name plaques on their outside walls. The style is similar in each of them, with red and white colour schemes, but … Continue reading
“Look!” cries Lucia. “It’s a biscostoria!” True enough, there are the legends and history of Sicily spelled out in biscuits, with Greek columns and mermaids and fish and crowns – it’s a lovely little piece of whimsy. Sabrina, the person … Continue reading
The flute trills the opening bars of The Chinese Dance and Clem, Lucia and I all start to shake with suppressed laughter. It’s just as well we’re in a private box and not the stalls. We’re at Teatro Bellini listening … Continue reading
“So have you seen the elephant’s erection?” asks my flatmate Lucia. I gape at her, wondering if I’ve misheard. “What?!” She cackles at my expression. “OK, I was sitting in a cafe one day and was messing about with my … Continue reading
I’ve been messing about with SoundCloud and have recorded myself reading one of my posts from earlier this year, so those of you who’ve never heard my dulcet tones can have whatever illusions you might have been harbouring about my … Continue reading
The little boy on the plastic tricycle stops outside the half-shuttered window. “Bello!” he roars. “Bellooooooo!” His mother shushes him. “Not like that. Call him gently.” The boy looks up, uncomprehending, before shouting again. His mother rolls her eyes, but … Continue reading
A Sunday night chuck it together kind of a lazy supper for one, to use up whatever you’ve got left in the fridge. I had a medium aubergine, a small courgette and some ricotta, as well as a jar of … Continue reading
