The magical world of spoons was the title of the exhibition in Vigevano that I missed.

I was able to retrieve the images here but I would like to chat about spoons with you.

First of all, I admit that I have stopped using spoons since I do not put sugar in my coffee, although in doing so I violate the rules of bon ton that requires that the spoon is always served.

Not only that: I’m also wrong because I don’t follow the advice of experts who say that espresso should be stirred anyway.

Do you use a spoon?

Do you have a favorite spoon?

There are some really fancy spoons actually, here for example the New Wave by Villeroy & Boch

or the Alessi set, again we are outside of the Etiquette though, which requires that the spoons be equal to each other


And had you ever seen Lavazza’s ESpoon?


There is even a “cream-saving” spoon.

Then if the cream is matched with this choc… spoon, isn’t the result sublime?


What spoon do you use?

Among the spoons we have I prefer the white and yellow checked ones, which are not elegant, but are very nice.

Would you believe it if I told you that I managed to lose two of them?

Who loses them, who drops them … Salvador Dalì made the spoons symbol of his research on the oneiric.

Have you ever woken up during a dream and felt the desire to memorize the images in your head the instant they vanished?

Salvador Dalì used to fall asleep after lunch in his armchair with a spoon in his hand, knowing that when his sleep was deep, his fingers would drop the spoon, and expecting that the thud of the spoon would wake him abruptly allowing him to remember.

Undoubtedly he gave us dream works, if you will allow me this pun.


Incidentally, spoons are also a symbol of good luck: the tradition of giving silver spoons to new babies still continues.

This custom comes from the Middle Ages: when newborns of noble families received a silver spoon as a gift as proof of wealth from birth.

Born with a silver spoon in one’s mouth.

What did yours look like?

I didn’t get any silver spoons, but I consider myself equally lucky, and I can always fill my empty spoon with a nice dose of Nutella, can’t I?  🙂

Have a good coffee then, perhaps inspired by Liz’s elegance to stir it, what do you say?




A curtain of purple Wisteria …

Do you recognize which quote this line belongs to?

The wisteria I am telling you about, however, is not located on an avenue, and for that very reason it struck me very much.

The wisteria I want to tell you about sat along a country lane, expanding in its natural, wild architecture, without being an embellishment to anyone.

I like the idea that it has done well here in Lomellina, a place with characteristics quite different from its homeland.

In China wisteria is called Zǐténg 紫藤 i.e. blue vine, even the German name: Blauregen is inspired by the color.

Wisteria, on the other hand, comes from the Greek glýkis γλύκης meaning sweetness.

Name inspired by scent therefore, rather than color. Curious, isn’t it?

What strikes you most about wisteria?

Personally, I would say the color. In particular I have the memory of the arbor at the mill where my grandparents lived.

And in general what strikes you about flowers: the scent?

What is your favorite flower

What do you associate the thought of flowers with?

I found myself thinking that, just like this wisteria, I would love for other kinds of beauty to take over space, we would need it so much, wouldn’t we?

Maybe mine is tiredness, but sometimes I feel crushed by all the ugliness that surrounds us in our daily lives, after all, little would be enough to improve each other’s lives, and instead the common trend is heading exactly the opposite.

It is said that Wisteria for Japanese culture represents love and longevity, I ask for confirmation from those who are very knowledgeable on the subject, but in the meantime I would like to take it as a wish, adding my personal interpretation of this wisteria: freedom.

Shard by shard we are released from the tyranny of so-called time. A curtain of purple wisteria partially conceals the entrance to a familiar garden… In a wink, a lifetime, we pass through the infinite movements of a silent overture.



Tell me if you, like me, as soon as you hear the word “annunciation” you can’t help but think of Lello Arena and his “annunciazione annunciazione” in the very famous sketch by the trio La Smorfia with the unforgettable Massimo Troisi.



With a hint of the same intrusiveness I would like to report that I have finally managed to share on the Reader as well!

I managed thanks to Jetpack

What is Jetpack was first asked by Eleonora  on her blog Le1000e1Recensione.

Now I can say that Jetpack for me was an entry.

Many things remain to be solved, related for example to the theme I use to publish which is partly alien, but this plugin, or rather, this toolkit i.e. this “IT toolbox” has opened the Reader door to Keep Calm & Drink Coffee articles.

The WordPress Reader is a feed aggregator and brings all blogs together, but until now KCDC was not … aggregatable.

Unfortunately for you though, I was now able to get in! 🙂

Have you ever been barred from access anywhere?

Did you give up or were you able to find a way?

The magical door to Howl’s Wandering Castle comes to mind.


But I also hope I don’t end up like the mythical scene in Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom where Willie discovers she’s in a cave full of bugs and starts yelling “let me in!” While, however, Shorty and Indy inside are about to get squished and yell “let us out!”

What about you?



For more than 30 years I worked in a company where there was no coffee dispenser.

I know: it sounds unbelievable, yet it is true.

My colleagues, however, organized themselves with a mocha and made coffee mid-morning and in the afternoon.

As soon as the coffee was ready they used to call me.


My contribute was for to the expenses and for the chat 🙂

So I never really witnessed situations of the kind represented by the famous sitcom Camera Café for instance.

How about you instead?

I guess anyone can tell several anecdotes, do you have any?

I think it is also possible to group characters into categories, such as the profiteers … that is, those who never have any coin, or do we want to call them by a slightly more slang appellation?

Perhaps a form of suspended coffee should be created for distributors as well.

Speaking of inventing … do you know who is the author of the first device to distribute automatically?


His dispenser however was for holy water, and thinking about it … I get a big smile 😉 I would very much need it …

Joking aside, the idea came because Heron noticed a waste of water outside the temple.

Through Heron’s mechanism, a coin struck a lever that dispensed a given amount of water for each person.

What to say. I love brilliant minds.

What kind of dispenser would you like?

So, it’s ok if we take this week’s coffee at the dispenser?

T as TAG

T as TAG

TAG, literally label, in computer science: sequence of characters with which we mark the elements of a file for later processing; by now tag is a tool with which we basically “link” to each other.

Do you often use tags?

I find it fun and I thank Fritz Gemini from the blog Philosophizing in Cheerfulness for tagging me following the idea of the blog The World of Shioren

The rules are simple:

1. Match the first one you can think of with the letter of the alphabet, whether it’s the title of a song, an object, a person, the title of a movie, anything, just as long as it’s off the top of your head, maybe even writing two lines of explanation… assuming it’s there!

2. Make a list (if you like, you can also add pictures or the link if they are songs).

3. Tag as many blogs as possible that you think would be interested (there is no numerical limit).

4. Obviously tag the originator, use the tag image and whoever nominates you so that your responses can also be read.

I started with a set of words, but then I realized that the corresponding translation would not respect the alphabetical order, so I rethought the whole thing by trying to use words corresponding to so-called anglicisms.

just because it sounds good. At first it was concerned with metrics, then the pattern changed, but Genesis decided to keep this title simply because it was abstract.
If you think of something abstract, what comes to mind?

obviously because the break is the prime time for coffee 🙂


D as detective
I love mysteries to be solved!

just to stay on topic …

because fashion equals beauty, creativity, freedom, expression, imagination, flair, art.
If I say fashion, what is the first thing that comes to your mind?


consider it in a good way: I admire the ability.

in general ideas are always important, when they are brilliant they become the heritage of humanity.


… have I seen too many movies?

tell me about an unforgettable concert!

I consider it essential.

N as nickname
how did yours come about?

what is your favorite style?

the first one I remember was a landscape, reconstructed together with my mom, the last one a series of sharks together with my son.

Q as QR code

R as R.E.M.
stage of which I wish I could preserve memory.

what is your favorite soundtrack?

T as TAG
off course


no, actually it’s enough just to say video now: since they became viral in the 1980s, videos evolved from the famous “tube” to TikTok to reels.
Do you create them? Do you follow them? Do you share them?

can you explain how weekends can always fly by in a huff?

cult series! We used to look forward to Sunday nights as a must-see date. Here you find episode reviews by Sam Simon.

Y as You
because to me you are important.

Z as ZEN
because if you have made it this far you surely are zen, aren’t you?

Since reading the blogs of the mythical Reader group I saw that as usual I come last and everyone already made it, I would think of an expansion across the border and, without any commitment of course, I tag Layla: Nin Chronicles,  Karo: Krolowa Karo and Kimberly: Hacketthill Farm.

And I tag you!

T for TAG



I was born on the day of the Piazza Fontana massacre, and I defy even those who are not superstitious not to see ominous signs in it.

I was born at home, on the kitchen table, like a fresh loaf of bread in the early morning

When my mother shaked my father telling “it’s time,” he just turned on the other side and went on sleeping.

How could I blame him? I was coming to dawn as importunate as an alarm clock.

I was born in Cilavegna and I am one of the last people to be able to say this: as of January 1970 it was no longer possible to use a midwife, and it became mandatory to give birth in a hospital. Since there were no hospitals in Cilavegna, from that date on, new babies saw the light elsewhere.

I was born in Lomellina, land of fog and mosquitoes, but my father is of Venetian descent and my great-grandmother on my mother’s side was German. I am basically a mixture.

I was born into a simple family, Ihad simple things and a happy childhood.

My maternal grandmother, who looked after me from the time my mother resumed her job as a clerk, had swollen knees from all her mondina days, and, unable to move nimbly, entertained me by telling stories.

The result was that, before I began to walk, I spoke perfectly without the classic infantile mispronunciations, and I knew nursery rhymes, prayers and numbers.

Words were my first games, my first friends, my first nourishment.

Nevertheless, the kindergarten debut was quite traumatic: my shyness was relentless.

I had not yet understood the pleasure of chatting and socializing, a concept I largely recovered after the middle ages of adolescence.

But let us proceed step by step: for the nuns who conducted the kindergarten, my interaction defect was not a noteworthy aspect, quite the contrary. Rather, the problem was created by my inability to fall asleep after lunch.

Standing still in my cot, I would silently weave the bangs of the rough plaid under which I was supposed to fall asleep instead.

I did not feel that I was creating a disturbance, but that was one of my first errors of judgment: I still have clear memories of the reprimand from Sister Antonia, who among the sisters was the better and quieter one.

Thereafter rather than the bangs I took to interweaving my attempts at intentionality with my grandfather’s big heart. He would work night shifts and in the morning, exhausted, instead of going to rest. he would accommodate my requests, effectively endorsing the intent to skip kindergarten.

A tumor took him away when I was only five years old leaving me a huge void and an unfulfilled desire in return.

He used to tell me “as soon as I retire I will teach you German.”

During the war he was used as an interpreter after a German officer, striking him, heard him reply in his own language.

I thought I would learn easily, that I would listen happily as with Grandma’s stories, but instead he could tell me no more.

When elementary school time came, there was no school on Thursdays, but by then I didn’t care much.

Some people still called us remiges: lined up in rows of two, hand in hand, with our overcoats over our black aprons from which sprouted the big blue bow knotted under the white collar.

It began on the first of October when the desks were still desks, and the folders contained a checkbook and a ruled notebook, small ones, with the blotting paper for the ink of fountain pens: witnesses to a writing that no longer exists.


Pic by Massimo

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