About Us

I decided to leave BT at the party they’d organised for me at the top of the BT Tower. Don’t get me wrong, it wasn’t that the party was awful – it was a fantastic event, and a complete surprise. It was just that they’d thrown it to celebrate the 30 years I’d spent in the company. 30 years! I kept casting my mind back to all those dreadful farewell parties in the past for those really old buggers. Was I like just like them – old, exhausted and past it? I had a really good job as Head of Sponsorship and could look back on some great times and be proud of certain achievements. But I felt like I needed to do something else with my life.

That was in July 2005 and it took another 9 months before I actually left the company. Around the same time, my wife C and I had been toying with the idea of moving house now that 2 of our 3 daughters were settled and living their own lives elsewhere. We didn’t really have an ambition to move to a particular place within the UK and one night C said, why don’t we move abroad?

We’d been spending more and more time holidaying in Italy and were just in love with the place. The idea of living there began to take root. C started trawling the net for potential houses and locations and that’s when we found our home to be in le Marche. We moved there in March 2006 and, whilst there have been many ups and downs, we have enjoyed the life there enormously.

Inevitably we have missed family and friends and, once our broadband line was connected, I started to send regular e-mail updates to them just to let them know how things were working out and, of course, it also meant we could keep in touch with things in the UK. Online access also meant that I could develop my marketing consultancy business at last (shameless plug: there’s a link to the paul leonard consultancy on this site’s homepage, have a look see).

I have really enjoyed writing about the side of Italian life where things don’t go exactly to plan since that’s what creates the charm of the place and the people. Anyway a number of friends said they found them un usually honest and mildly amusing, except when they filled up their inboxes. One of our oldest friends, who runs the creative marketing company Knapp Goodwin, then generously offered to create this weblog site for me to host the pieces and maybe generate some wider interest. They do some fantastic work (go check out their website from the homepage too). Another top friend, a wizard of all things online,  did all the set up – his own website will be linked soon. The name ‘Pasta Paulie’ came out of one of my earliest messages and it kind of stuck, just like the pasta round my waist. I hope you enjoy these ramblings from a man who is searching for la dolce vita, and thinks he may get there one day……

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high streets

Have you nerticed  the quirkyness of English? Not the people; the language.  It’s the most significant on the planet and yet it is just about the most irregular, polyglot, rapacious (in its ability to borrow), adaptable, frustrating and evolving language mankind has ever known. Despite its influence it is almost certainly one of the hardest to master because of its many peculiararities.  And we speak it every day and rarely trouble ourselves with its intricacies. But as regular readers will know that’s a dead cert subject for me to reflect upon. The Eurozone’s in crisis, austerity beckons and yet I  about words when I ought to be hard at work.  Take that word ‘work’. It’s innocuous isn’t it? As we all know it means to toil or be employed. But have you noticed how it is pronounced – like werk?  Nothing funy on the face of it but look at a host of other words spelt the same way like pork, cork and fork. In dozens of cases it’s an ‘or’ sound in the middle. Why is work pronounced differently? Don’t you find it odd? And here’s something odder; there’s already a word beginning with a and pronounced like ‘pork’ but it is spelled ‘walk‘. Interesting, the letters ‘al‘ as in ‘pale’ or ‘talc’ or ‘real’ are pronounced as ‘or‘? Is this what they mean by perfidious Albion?  How on earth do foreign students ever grasp our language? But they do with seemingly apparently ease, and yet after 5 years in Italy, which has an almost perfectly constructed language, I probably know no more than 10 phrases and 100 words, sigh.

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