DING, DONG, THE SNOW IS GONE

This is Santa Claus trying to get into the Simonetti's cellar. To be absolutely correct, this isn't Santa Claus. It's Babbo Natale -- Daddy Christmas. Up above him two more babbos are trying to access the roof. They have been up there for a whole year. It's always the same, it's more fun to put up than to take down.

These creeping Santas are very popular here in Tuscany. There is one hanging from his neck at a coffee bar on the via Camaiore. I don't know if this is the bar's comment on Christmas or if there has been a terrible accident.

Little more than a dozen years ago, Babbo Natale didn't really exist. A bigger deal was the ugly, but nice witch, Befana. She comes on 6th January and gives gifts to good children and coal to bad ones. Sweet shops sell a black, jelly like sweet that looks exactly like coal. As it is now, Italian kiddies score twice in the space of two weeks.

Not too long ago, Christmas gifts ran to: 1) a panetone; 2) a poinsettia; 3) both. For something extra special it was a panetone, a poinsettia and a bottle of Spumante given in a basket all done up in cellophane and masses of ribbons. The local basket shop still stocks stacks of wonderful baskets, cellophane, shredded cellophane for nests and ribbons. Many people stick to this tradition but commerce and children have brought more serious gifts into the picture to say nothing of Babbo Natale and Jingle Bells on loudspeakers in the supermarkets.

The old tradition is very nice, the only trouble being that everybody ends up with enough panetone to see them through until February and a sea of red and green plants. There are four panetones in the house already.

I alloted myself three Christmas blips with a possible fourth if anything riveting or beautiful turned up. There was the baubles in bubbles, the chocolate village and now, the full monty, Babbo Natale.

Freedom from being snowed in has its price. I have to go to the dentist.