The Ascetic Life

July 2009

“She was told that they best served Him who removed themselves farthest from the things of the world, as in particular the hermits who had withdrawn from the city to the wilds of Thebais.” Giovanni Boccaccio, The Decameron

There have been few visitors, but those arriving have seen that ours is, verily, a monastic life: up early in the morning (oft without slumber); living off nearby nature's abundance (with a touch from young Brother Giovanni in the pizzeria kitchen); and cold showers to soothe the fervour stoked by wholesome travail.

Well, the latter is no laughing matter. Though naught to our hardy souls and Hibernian hides, the boiler would be handy. This month, though, getting rid rather than piping in - large toys in the yard for Domenico and Co to amuse themselves with as the effluent system prescribed by Italian paper-types (and could service Versailles with a stomach bug) went in. Now, too, doors befitting said regal pad are in; the floors up top and in domestic quarters all but finished. Dare we hope soon to have our cells with real beds, wherein we may find merited repose in our Hessian rags..??

Dare..