She's The Red One

The Poster

Hubby called in the afternoon to announce that Ferrari's official Blues Band would be giving a concert in a Pizzeria (La Smorfia) at Vignola in the evening and suggested that we attend it. Why not? A few of his subordinates and fellow Directors play in the band, it would be interesting seeing these guys out of their business suits.

Behind their Polo Shirts

We arrived at around half past eight in an average neighbourhood and found our (reserved) table quite quickly. Nobody came to take our order, but as we were busy doing a few social rounds, it hadn't mattered then.

It was held in the open and of course there was quite a breeze and for once it was not only not hot but actually rather cold. We waited and waited, but nobody came to take our order. There were forks but no knives on the table. I was starting to starve.

Hubby supposedly speaks good Italian now. But for some reason he's often allergic to asking for clarifications when he is unsure about something. Like it would affect his virility or something. He saw people going to a buffet and a piece of paper advertising pizza, annonced that the buffet of cold starters would suit him fine and that was it, we were expected to live with it. The fact that we could be hungry and would prefer something warm didn't seem to bother him. As usual, when he wasn't hungry, the rest of us needn't eat. I bravely ordered a pizza for myself. "Are you sure you'll want to eat a pizza? The buffet is more than enough..." I ignored him.

The drinks took an hour to arrive when we finally got to order them. They were seriously understaffed. And for some reason we didn't order much, probably as Monsieur wasn't thirsty, just a bottle of water and 2 ice teas. The kids fought over them, as they did over my pizza (that nobody would want to eat) when it arrived 2 hours later. It nearly didn't arrive at all - Monsieur wanted to cancel it after waiting for an hour, but I stood my ground - thank God.

The concert started after 10pm. I was half-frozen, half-starved and half-asleep (they do not add up but you get the picture) by then. Eldest Son was complaining about the Italian singer belting out easy-listening numbers while warming up for the band (having their dinner with their families and friends). She sang really well, but the music was too loud and boring after a while. The kids were going crazy meaning so was I.

The Band

When it did start, it wasn't too bad at all for an amateur band. It was maybe even pretty good. The lead singer was one of Hubby's staff and he sang with heart if his voice wasn't always adapted to the song in question. The guy at the keyboards works for him too, in fact Hubby just promoted him to a pretty important position. I was quite fascinated by the female singer, I have a skirt like hers and I was wondering where I could find a similar belt to go with it. The guy playing the main guitar is an important Director in the company and he actually sings pretty well. Apparently they only decided to create this band about a year ago, out of a common love for music. I didn't follow the whole story too closely, but I believe that Ferrari sponsors the band. In-house they have quite a number of interesting activities and courses organised or paid for by the company. It's after all supposedly one of the best places to work at in Europe.

With Screen showing a series of Movies featuring Ferraris

As you may know, we had to pay 125 euros for the lousy meal. I was/am furious. Monsieur of course had to add oil to the fire by acting le Grand Seigneur claiming that it wasn't that expensive and that it was worth the money. To cover up the fact that he hadn't bothered to check out the prices earlier.

We eat very often in good restaurants and since when have we ever paid 125 euros for a pizza in a neighbourhood pizzeria? I really hate being ripped-off and I sincerely believe that it is a sin to throw money out of the window. If I have money to give away, then God knows that I should give it to the needy, not to a greedy pizzeria. And the guy who wanted us to drive more than 10 hours to Paris in 10 days to save on air tickets actually dared to say that 125 euros for a pizza was not expensive? In French we call that mauvaise foi.

So I have written the letter and even if nobody cares, I'd feel better after having shared my thoughts on the subject with those Italians. Though I'll have to wait for tomorrow to post it. The stupid post office's only open mornings. Why would you have a post office and only open it in the morning? Such a waste of office space.

OK, I'm going to stop whining. Got to go make Pastillas for dinner.