Result !

The arrival at the main door of the officer of the Forestale (green fatigues, black gun) and his sidekick (fewer epaulettes, bigger gun) was like the arrival of Little and Large. The napoleonic, charismatic, glittering teeth, eyes, curls, smile of my pocket-sized hero was backed up by the biggest armed man I have ever seen (he was oafish too! just like he should be, just like in all the books).

400 euros. And three Hail Mary's. And the assent of the Comune.

Now there's a bureaucracy to cherish. They were full of advice on avoiding such unfortunate consequences in future, they hoped the farm would flourish, they quite understood my need for a place to keep the agricultural machinery, they appreciated the care that had been taken to adapt and remodel unobtrusively what was there, and not disturb the landscape.

We were caught up in someone else's row; all understood this; efforts were made.

I am applying for a gun licence, nothing fancy, Mr HG has put his foot down over an Uzi. A light, sporting sort of gun . The Forestale officer and his staff will help me choose I'm sure.

First, obtain the application form from the local Questura.