FAREWELL TO A MUCH LOVED FRIEND

 

I'm a glass half full person, intent on seeing the brighter side of life and this blog has tried to stay on that keel, even when we were mired in crooked draughtsmen and recalcitrant builders. So, I'm going to try and celebrate rather than mourn the lives of friends lost in the last three weeks and accept that those who read this will know the huge hole that's left in our hearts with their departure.

Giuseppe Bruno was born in the trullo across the road from ours and spent his summers in another, a little further along. 

When we arrived to look at the land and the pile of rocks before buying, we were greeted by his dogs, Bandido, Nuvola and Molly. 

They were a fixture of all our earliest visits, wagging tails and overjoyed faces there to welcome us  but we didn't know Giuseppe and his wife, Giovanna then. It wasn't until disaster struck and we had to close the construction site down, in that long, terrible year when we learned our project was nearly complete - but illegal - that we met Giuseppe and I'll never forget the moment. We were at the trullo, weeds had infested everything, the beds were damp, the trullo abandoned for months through a soggy winter when a big, low growly voice asked 'siete voi i propretari?' Are you the owners? The big tall man with a full head of black hair and flashing bright blue eyes in front of me was furious, quivering with rage. 'You left the water tank uncovered and empty.. a dog could fall or worse, a child. What are you doing here? What kind of work site is this with no attention to health and safety'. 

I was mortified. He was right, the builders had excavated and placed the new cement water tank into the earth but had not closed it. It could have been disastrous. I apologised profusely and promised to have the issue fixed immediately. I then told him, in detail, what had happened to us, how we had been gypped by a charlatan surveyor and that the project we had funded with our retirement funds was now, potentially, worthless - and from that moment on Giuseppe became our protector, our neighbour in every sense of the word and over the years, our dear, dear friend. Giuseppe became a kind of fairy godfather, who watched over the place, pruned and took care of our trees, brought us the most incredible dishes made by his wonderful wife, Giovanna, when we arrived exhausted from the long drive from the UK.

Last year, to our joy, he and Giovanna invited us to join his family in the vendemmia, the annual grape harvest. The joyful lunch with family afterward is a memory that will stay forever with us.

He made oil with our olives, picked our almonds and figs, turned them into dried delicacies so we didn't miss anything while away. 

He was strong, compassionate, stoic, wise, a loving father to his three children, adored by his grandchildren and was a much loved friend to many. In March, when we came back this year to finalise the legality of the building - a moment in which our anxieties and worries were finally over and our project started to flourise - he took us out to dinner and we ate the most incredible array of meats at his nephew's restaurant. 

In May when we returned to prepare for this year's summer guests, he was suffering, every breath painful, his fury at leaving this world too early barely suppressed. We hugged him the day before our flight to London and we three knew, this was our last time. Giuseppe Bruno died nine days later, in the home set within the land he loved so much. I've planted a jasmine in our London garden and water it every day as it takes root - and on our return in September will plant a tree in his memory. 

Vale one of this earth's truly good men.