British couple seek Brexit fun

I went down with a new form to fill to the parish council office, something that confirms that we are resident in Italy where we are resident. A post-Brexit requirement.

For two persons I needed four €16 vouchers. It was all very pleasant, chatty, homely even.

I also requested a new identity card. This required digital finger prints. My hands were already stained walnut brown - ‘it happens, it walnuts innit’ - and then the dab reader couldn’t read my fingerprints because I’ve worn them away.

The woman said, ‘Allora, lei è lavoratore’ - or ‘you’re a worker then’. In the hard working factory, farm and forest Casentino that is kudos.

Sometimes one lives Brexit as being implicated in a betrayal, in a collective ‘fuck off’ to Europe that I’m sure is felt and resented by Europe. ‘

‘It wasn’t me, gov,’ only gets you so far when the chips are down and backs are up against the wall.

These subtle interplays are so hard to read. Is it me, is it you.

We’ve put Mum’s house on the market. We talked about clearing the house on Zoom. Another part of saying goodbye.

Who would have imagined it would be like this.

The photo is of the evening news. Reporters now wear masks when doing outside reports. At least in Rome where this is now decreed by law.

Eighteen people have tested positive in a local school.

Don’t let your guard down.