Just when I thought we were over Liberation Day and I could dust off my To Do list, along came May Day, yet another excuse to close offices, tear up bus schedules and generally reduce Italy to a dusty, shuttered standstill. Next year they should simplify everything and just close the country for the month of April. And the Communists had their flags out yesterday, of course. Isn't it extraordinary that grown men, aware of 20th century history, can parade beneath a hammer and sickle banner without a shudder of shame?

They say God sends us what we need, not what we desire. It's the kind of platitude I'm sure I've let drop without being in any position to check its truth. Well this week God sent me Vittorio Cimarosto, an ageing rockabilly, a retired nurse turned back-yard farmer. Vittorio, brought to me by a long chain of happpenstance, is now helping me care for my mother through the final weeks of her life. He lifts her, turns her, bullies her, massages her, wheels her out for ice cream, brings her new-laid eggs, gets a smile out of her. He seems to know a hundred little wrinkles for making the lives of his patients more comfortable. He believes in working to the eleventh hour fifty ninth minute to fill what remains of their life with grace.
And I'll tell you something else. He wasn't closed for May Day.