Busy Times
I’ve got a lot on at the moment, what with courses kicking off right left and centre. Mix that in with a workshop, lesson dates and times which seem to be moved every other day, and things become complicated. Then there is the sausage project….
I need to think things through, so I’m off out for a walk and to drop off/pick up stuff from the cleaners. I’m feeling a little like a juggler who is in danger of having all his balls fall to the ground and bounce off in random directions.
A nasty cold and annoying cough are not helping matters either. Yes, I’m feeling sorry for myself.
I will overcome, I will overcome - I shall have to start repeating to myself…
Hope you are having a nice quiet day.
Contrary to Popular Opinion
I know a lot of Italians from down south. You know, that area of Italy where the people tend to have a bit of a reputation for being a little work shy. One of those ’stereotype’ situations, if ever there was one.
All of the southern Italians I know are pretty hard working individuals and many are ambitious as well. These guys and gals are only really up here in Milan because they cannot find work down in the south. However, I’m sure if you head off down to Bari, Catania and the other places lying around the heel of Italy’s boot, you will find that there is no absence of young people, and many of these individuals will be working.
It’s not so much the southern Italian mentality down in south Italy as the political mis-management and the, er, ‘influence’ of certain other organisations. And, as an side, it has to be said, that these here ‘certain other organisations’ are much better organised than that mother of all Italian organisations: the government. Or so it would appear.
Anyway, I digress, the point I’m attempting to make is that down in the south of Italy, the problem is not so much that of lazy people, as a lack of opportunities. And before someone points this out, I’m aware that the speed with which things are done down south is rather slower than here up in the north. This is another reason why the more ambitious southerners who cannot carve out a niche down south, come up north.
By way of example, my friend and partner in the sausage thing, Gaetano Salvo, who hails from the south, is the last person you could call work shy or lazy, I can tell you.
Potential employers take note: southern Italians can potentially make more willing employees than those from the north of the country. They are lovely people too.
Sausages, again
Sorry to go banging on about this, but my life seems to be being taken over by the things these days. And the first problem has arisen, thus putting my sausage strategy skills to the test a wee bit.
It had to happen I suppose, after all, that’s business. My sausage supply has gone from sizzling to fizzling out. My friendly local butcher is too tied up with preparing Christmasy stuff to be able to make a few kilos of bangers, and he has lost his main sausage maker. This means that sausage style Christmas prezzies are most probably off the agenda. Shame.
On the bright side, Gaetano, my associate sausage development manager, let’s call him, has most probably set up a meeting tomorrow on the sausage front. I shall be interested to see what comes of it, although I shall keep mum until something really starts cooking. I expect to be grilled about several things, so I’d better be well prepared.
Oops, is that the time. I’ve got to get ready to go. My core business calls. Must go teach lawyers how to use a bit of the old Queen’s English, in the hope of bettering their chances of finding a decent job after their course.
From bangers to lawyers. Isn’t life bizarre at times?
Another madcap scheme of mine will be coming your way soon. I sure you’ll have trouble holding your breath. Not.
News from the Sausage front
Well, I don’t want to give too much away, but there has been some movement on the banger front. Some of these ‘ere sizzlers found their way down to deepest darkest southern Italy, and went down well. Interesting. My thanks go to my sausage partner, Gaetano Salvo for his efforts on this. He has been spreading the word and has not done at all badly. Indeed, thanks in the main to Gaetano, I may have a little meeting this week in this neck of the boschi (boschi = ‘woods’ in Italian) to talk about sausagey stuff.
This thing keeps banging on. Ho ho ho (no offence intended to American women intended - this ‘ho ho ho’ is the age old traditional Father Christmas version, not the more modern American slang version with an offensive meaning, and which, it has to be said, is not oft repeated three times. At least I don’t imagine it is…).
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