Waiting for the New Year – I wonder what it will bring?

I sit upon my favorite seat,
The sun dips low, the day’s complete.
Our little farmhouse, soft and still,
Glows under hills that catch the chill.

Thirteen years of human care,
From cage to love, they found me there.
I’m older now, but still admired,
Three colors bright, by luck inspired.

I’ve brought no gold, no treasures vast,
But friendship, warmth, and love to last.
This mountain house, this sky so true,
Holds all the joy of me and you.

In attesa del Nuovo Anno – Chissà cosa porterà?

Siedo sul mio posto preferito,
Il sole cala, il giorno è compiuto.
La nostra piccola fattoria, dolce e silente,
Brilla sotto colline che accolgono il freddo pungente.

Tredici anni di cura e di amore umano,
Dalla gabbia al cuore, mi hanno trovato qui vicino.
Sono più anziana, ma ancora ammirata,
Tre colori splendenti, dalla fortuna guidata.

Non porto oro, né tesori infiniti,
Ma amicizia, calore e affetti infiniti.
Questa casa tra i monti, questo cielo così vero,
Raccoglie tutta la gioia di me e di te, sincero.

Davanti alla Natività del Domenichino (Domenico Zampieri)
(National Gallery of Scotland, Edinburgh)

È notte piena, notte di Natale,
ogni cuore al Bambin si fa uguale.
Giuseppe porta il fieno all’asinello,
che riposa tranquillo, mansueto e bello.

La Vergine, dal volto dolce e puro,
contempla il segno grande e ancor oscuro.
Tre volti giovani al suo si fan vicini,
davanti al mistero dei tempi divini.

Dai monti sale il suono di zampogne,
un uomo grande appare tra le ombre.
Suona una dolce e lenta pastorale
nel luogo acceso dalla stella astrale.

Angeli lieti insieme si raccolgono,
le ali chiare la notte avvolgono.
Un cane veglia il sonno del Signore,
un pastorello offre una colomba in dono e amore.

Quale armonia riempie questa notte santa,
quale parola l’aria quieta incanta?
La gioia corre, vola e va lontano,
e unisce tutti in un canto umano.

***

This is a busy Christmas
night,
while all adore the little child.
Joseph brings the hay to feed
the donkey, resting, calm and mild.

The virgin mother, soft of
gaze,
beholds the wonder just revealed;
three youthful faces join with hers
before a mystery sealed.

And from the mountains rise
the pipes,
a towering form from far away,
to play a gentle pastorale
where once the guiding star held sway.

Bright chubby angels
gather near,
beneath the crib a dog stands guard;
a shepherd’s son presents a dove,
while others gesture toward the yard.

What music fills this sacred
night,
what whispered words are spoken here?
Joy’s sound must travel far and wide
and draw us all to gentle cheer.

***

.

Domenichino’s Nativity is now housed in the National Gallery of Scotland in Edinburgh. It was sold in 1971 for £100,000 by Sotheby’s by its previous owner, Dulwich Picture Gallery, which was my own school’s picture gallery. (Now worth at least £10,000,000 but not for sale). At the time of the sale, I felt a deep sense of sadness at its departure, as the painting had long formed part of the gallery’s identity and of my own early encounter with great art.

The decision to sell the painting was taken for financial and curatorial reasons. In an era of limited public funding, Dulwich Picture Gallery chose to use the proceeds to strengthen other areas of its collection, at a time when the sale of major works was still considered acceptable museum practice. By today’s standards, such a decision would be extremely unlikely. Contemporary museum ethics and governance rules strongly discourage the sale of masterpieces, especially those central to a collection’s historical and cultural significance.

Despite my regret, there is consolation in knowing that the painting has remained within the British Isles, where it is publicly accessible and carefully conserved. Its presence in a national gallery ensures that it continues to be seen, studied, and appreciated.

The painting also deeply inspired my own poem on the Nativity. Domenichino’s restrained tenderness, the quiet humanity of the figures, and the calm, luminous atmosphere of the scene shaped both the imagery and the emotional tone of my writing. In this way, the poem became a personal response to the painting — a means of keeping it close, even after it had left the place where I first came to know it.

***

La Natività di Domenichino trova oggi alla National Gallery of Scotland di Edimburgo. Fu venduta a metà del XX secolo (negli anni Sessanta) dal suo precedente proprietario, la Dulwich Picture Gallery, che era anche la galleria d’arte della mia scuola. Al momento della vendita provai un profondo senso di tristezza, poiché il dipinto faceva parte integrante dell’identità della galleria e del mio primo incontro con la grande arte.

La decisione di venderlo fu presa per ragioni economiche e curatoriali. In un periodo di finanziamenti pubblici limitati, la Dulwich Picture Gallery utilizzò il ricavato per rafforzare altri settori della propria collezione, in un’epoca in cui la dismissione di opere importanti era ancora considerata una pratica accettabile. Oggi, una scelta del genere sarebbe estremamente improbabile. Le attuali norme etiche e istituzionali dei musei scoraggiano fortemente la vendita di capolavori, soprattutto quando sono centrali per il valore storico e culturale di una collezione.

Nonostante il rammarico, resta una consolazione sapere che il dipinto è rimasto nelle Isole Britanniche, dove è accessibile al pubblico e conservato con grande cura. La sua presenza in una galleria nazionale garantisce che continui a essere visto, studiato e apprezzato.

Il dipinto ha inoltre ispirato profondamente la mia poesia sulla Natività. La tenerezza trattenuta di Domenichino, l’umanità silenziosa delle figure e l’atmosfera calma e luminosa della scena hanno influenzato sia le immagini sia il tono emotivo del mio testo. In questo senso, la poesia è diventata una risposta personale al dipinto: un modo per conservarlo interiormente, anche dopo che aveva lasciato il luogo in cui lo avevo conosciuto per la prima volta.

Our new book is out today!

It would make a great Christmas present! (for readers of Italian)

Il nostro nuovo libro esce oggi!

e ..farebbe un bellissimo regalo di Natale!

Soft lights glow among the winter trees,
At Villa Webb where time seems slow;
Each star and ribbon, placed with care,
Is love made visible in gentle glow.

Local hands have shaped this waiting time,
For young and old, for hearts to bless;
So Christmas comes by quiet degrees,
In warmth, in hope, in togetherness.

Villa Webb a Natale

Luci soffuse tra gli alberi in inverno,
A Villa Webb il tempo pare andare piano;
Ogni stella, ogni nastro messo con cura
Racconta amore, sincero e umano.

Mani locali han reso dolce l’attesa,
Per grandi e piccoli, con vero ardore;
Così Natale arriva passo dopo passo,
Tra calore, speranza e cuore.

Next door to Bar Italia, in the former greengrocer’s shop, there’s a delightful little exhibition of photographs by the Ora Blu group, juxtaposed with drawings of Bagni di Lucca’s most characteristic buildings and scenes by Pier Luigi Petrucci.

Some of the images may look familiar, as they were first shown at the exhibition inaugurated in the foyer of our town hall last August. Now lightly decked with festive tinsel, the display brings a welcome glow to the rather murky winter evenings we find ourselves in at present.

One can’t help wishing that some enterprising publisher could turn these very attractive scenes into a book—it would make a perfect Christmas gift, as well as a lovely way of presenting this special corner of Tuscany to the wider world.

Well done to all involved for adding such a thoughtful and heart-warming touch of Christmas cheer to the town. 🎄✨

Accanto al Bar Italia, nell’ex negozio di frutta e verdura, c’è una deliziosa piccola mostra di fotografie del gruppo Ora Blu, splendidamente accostate ai disegni degli edifici e delle vedute più caratteristiche di Bagni di Lucca di Pier Luigi Petrucci.

Alcune delle immagini potrebbero sembrarvi familiari, poiché sono state esposte per la prima volta alla mostra inaugurata nell’atrio del nostro municipio lo scorso agosto. Ora, leggermente addobbata con decorazioni natalizie, la mostra porta un piacevole bagliore in queste serate invernali piuttosto cupe in cui ci troviamo.

Non si può fare a meno di desiderare che qualche editore intraprendente trasformi queste scene così suggestive in un libro: sarebbe un regalo di Natale perfetto, oltre che un modo adorabile per presentare questo angolo speciale della Toscana al mondo intero.

Complimenti a tutti coloro che hanno contribuito per aver aggiunto un tocco di allegria natalizia così premuroso e commovente alla città. 🎄✨

During a conversation with an Italian acquaintance—baptized Catholic but not particularly observant—I mentioned that an increasing number of churches in the United Kingdom have been sold and converted into mosques by Muslim communities. His reaction was one of near shock. “How could they?” he asked incredulously. “Such things could never happen here in Italy.”

In fact, he was correct: to date there are no widely documented cases in Italy of Catholic churches being sold to Muslim communities and converted into mosques in officially recognized contexts. Unlike certain English or French cities, where former churches have been repurposed as mosques or Islamic cultural centers, the situation in Italy remains significantly different due to historical, cultural, legal, and institutional factors.

In the United Kingdom, although still relatively uncommon, there are clear examples of former church buildings being used as mosques. For instance, the Shah Jalal Mosque in Cardiff occupies a building originally constructed as a Methodist chapel before being converted into a mosque in 1990 after the congregation moved out. In Watford, Hertfordshire, the former St Thomas’ United Reformed Church—closed due to structural problems—was purchased by the Ar‑Rahmah Trust to serve the growing local Muslim community. Furthermore, buildings such as the Madina Mosque in Horsham (a former chapel repurposed as a mosque) show that adaptive reuses of religious architecture do occur in the UK.

There have also been proposals that were blocked, such as plans to convert the disused St John the Evangelist Church in Stoke‑on‑Trent into a mosque, which were stopped by the Church of England through a restrictive covenant that prohibited non‑Christian worship in the building.

In France, too, former churches have been placed on the market and in some cases acquired by Muslim organizations. A well‑known case is the former Saint‑Jean de‑la‑Rive‑de‑Graulhet, which was converted into the Mosque Nour El‑Mouhammadi decades ago. Other churches, like the old Saint Christopher in Nantes, have also been reported as converted into Islamic centers. Such cases, while still exceptional relative to the total number of church buildings in France, illustrate that conversions have occurred elsewhere in Europe.

But why hasn’t this happened in Italy?
Several factors explain why Italy’s experience differs:
The Catholic Church’s continued stewardship: The Catholic hierarchy in Italy maintains a strong role in the management of its ecclesiastical properties. Even churches with declining congregations are rarely sold to private buyers; they are more often closed, transferred to other parish use, or repurposed as cultural or social spaces (e.g., concert halls, libraries).
Heritage protections: A large number of Italy’s churches are protected as cultural heritage sites, subject to strict preservation laws. Changing their intended use—especially for religious purposes outside Catholicism—is legally complex and generally discouraged.
Existing mosques mostly in other kinds of buildings: While Italy has many mosques and Islamic prayer spaces, the majority are situated in purpose‑built structures or converted commercial premises (warehouses, former stores), not in former Catholic churches.
Local controversies and regulatory limitations: In some towns, Muslim communities have struggled to obtain permission for mosque construction or conversion, resulting in mosque congregations gathering in public squares for daily prayers, sometimes leading to tensions over use of space and traffic disruption. (These dynamics have been reported in local debates, such as in Montefalcone.)

Italian political figures have explicitly stated opposition to churches being sold and converted into mosques. For example, Prime Minister Giorgia Meloni has affirmed that redundant churches should not be sold for conversion into mosques; at most, she has suggested they could be repurposed for secular community uses like libraries or cultural associations, a trend visible in many Italian city centres such as Lucca.

Within the Catholic Church itself, senior figures have also commented on the matter. Cardinal Ravasi has articulated reservations about simply turning unused churches into mosques, emphasizing the distinct identities of these places of worship and suggesting that where needed, new mosques should be built with appropriate conditions rather than by direct conversion of Catholic churches.

In short, while church‑to‑mosque conversions have occurred in parts of the UK and France—as documented by specific cases such as Cardiff’s Shah Jalal Mosque and Graulhet’s Nour El‑Mouhammadi Mosque—Italy remains largely free of such examples due to cultural heritage protections, the Catholic Church’s internal policies, and national attitudes toward religious property. This does not mean that discussions around the use of redundant churches will not arise in Italy; questions about selling to other Christian denominations (e.g., Protestant or evangelical groups) are likely to become more prevalent as religious diversity grows. However, the distinctive legal, historical, and institutional framework in Italy makes wholesale church‑to‑mosque conversions an unlikely development in the near future.

kin

This year’s Christmas concert, organised by Bagni di Lucca’s De Montaigne Foundation and held in the town’s historic former Anglican church—now lovingly transformed into a library—proved to be a truly memorable and deeply poignant occasion, one of those rare evenings when music, place and human passage of time seem to converge.

The concert was, of course, a celebration of some of the most beloved excerpts from ‘La Lirica’, that inexhaustible treasure of Italian opera which never fails to stir the soul. Yet it was also something more: a moment of transition, reflection and quiet emotion for the community gathered within those high, familiar walls.

After eighteen years of tireless dedication, vision and cultural stewardship, Marcello Cherubini—founder and president of the Foundation—formally passed the captaincy of this invigorating and much-loved association to Agnese Benedetti. At just twenty-five years of age, and already with a remarkable track record as cultural councillor in our borough, she steps into this demanding role with grace, intelligence and promise. Few in the audience doubted that she will rise to the challenge with the same commitment and passion that have characterised her work thus far.

It was an unmistakably emotional moment. More than a few of us felt our throats tighten and our eyes moisten, as gratitude for what has been met hope for what is to come. Yet such moments remind us that renewal is not loss, but continuity—that just as spring inevitably follows winter, youth in its time takes over from age, carrying forward what has been so carefully nurtured.

The musical programme itself was a triumph. Operatic highlights were delivered with verve and sensitivity by Silvia Pantani, Federico Longhi and Mario Greco, a trio of exceptionally gifted singers, superbly accompanied by Silvia Gasperini, a pianist of rare talent. Their performances filled the space with warmth, drama and lyric beauty, setting the stage for the evening’s festive turn.

As the concert drew towards its close, the atmosphere softened and brightened with seasonal encores: Irving Berlin’s White Christmas, gentle and nostalgic, followed by my own favourite carol, O Holy Night, its soaring lines lifting hearts and spirits alike. In that moment, the chill of winter seemed to recede, replaced by shared warmth, memory and quiet joy.

Every Christmas concert mounted by the De Montaigne Foundation is an event to cherish, and almost invariably sells out. Yet this year’s concert will remain especially vivid in my mind—not only for its musical excellence, but for its sense of passage, gratitude and renewal. It was an evening to remember, and one that will resonate long after the final note faded into the winter night.

Il concerto di Natale di quest’anno, organizzato dalla Fondazione De Montaigne di Bagni di Lucca e tenutosi nella storica ex chiesa anglicana della città, ora amorevolmente trasformata in biblioteca, si è rivelato un’occasione davvero memorabile e profondamente toccante, una di quelle rare serate in cui musica, luogo e scorrere del tempo sembrano convergere.

Il concerto è stato, naturalmente, una celebrazione di alcuni dei brani più amati de “La Lirica”, quell’inesauribile tesoro dell’opera italiana che non manca mai di commuovere. Ma è stato anche qualcosa di più: un momento di transizione, riflessione e silenziosa emozione per la comunità riunita tra quelle alte e familiari mura.

Dopo diciotto anni di instancabile dedizione, visione e gestione culturale, Marcello Cherubini, fondatore e presidente della Fondazione, ha formalmente ceduto la guida di questa associazione rinvigorente e amatissima ad Agnese Benedetti. A soli venticinque anni, e con già un curriculum notevole come assessore alla cultura nel nostro quartiere, affronta questo ruolo impegnativo con grazia, intelligenza e promessa. Pochi tra il pubblico dubitavano che avrebbe affrontato la sfida con lo stesso impegno e la stessa passione che hanno caratterizzato il suo lavoro finora.

È stato un momento inequivocabilmente emozionante. Più di qualcuno di noi ha sentito la gola stringersi e gli occhi inumidirsi, mentre la gratitudine per ciò che è stato raggiunto si trasformava in speranza per ciò che verrà. Eppure, momenti come questi ci ricordano che il rinnovamento non è perdita, ma continuità: che proprio come la primavera segue inevitabilmente l’inverno, la giovinezza, a suo tempo, prende il sopravvento sull’età, portando avanti ciò che è stato coltivato con tanta cura.

Il programma musicale in sé è stato un trionfo. I momenti salienti dell’opera sono stati eseguiti con verve e sensibilità da Silvia Pantani, Mario Greco e Federico Longhi, un trio di cantanti eccezionalmente dotati, superbamente accompagnati da Silvia Gasperini, una pianista di raro talento. Le loro esibizioni hanno riempito lo spazio di calore, drammaticità e bellezza lirica, preparando il terreno per la svolta festosa della serata.

Mentre il concerto si avvicinava alla conclusione, l’atmosfera si addolciva e si illuminava con i bis stagionali: White Christmas di Irving Berlin, delicato e nostalgico, seguito dal mio canto preferito, O Holy Night, i cui versi melodici sollevavano cuori e spiriti. In quel momento, il freddo dell’inverno sembrò allontanarsi, sostituito dal calore condiviso, dal ricordo e da una gioia silenziosa.

Ogni concerto di Natale organizzato dalla Fondazione De Montaigne è un evento da custodire gelosamente, e registra quasi sempre il tutto esaurito. Eppure, il concerto di quest’anno rimarrà particolarmente vivido nella mia mente, non solo per la sua eccellenza musicale, ma anche per il suo senso di passaggio, gratitudine e rinnovamento. È stata una serata da ricordare, che risuonerà a lungo anche dopo che l’ultima nota si sarà spenta nella notte invernale.

Today we celebrate Jane Austen Day, the anniversary of the birth of one of England’s most loved writers. Jane Austen never visited Bagni di Lucca or Italy, but our region—with its 19th-century history as a cosmopolitan spa town beloved by British travellers—recalls the social atmosphere she so subtly observed and depicted in her novels in that other spa town, Bath. Christmas too, in her novels and in her life, is a time of family, visits, balls, letters, and reflection: not pomp, but relationships, feelings, and small gestures that reveal great truths. In this year of the 250th anniversary of her birth, Jane Austen continues to speak to us with intelligence and humanity.

Oggi celebriamo Jane Austen Day, nel giorno della nascita 250 anni fa di una delle grandi voci della letteratura inglese. Jane Austen non visitò mai Bagni di Lucca né l’Italia, ma il nostro territorio — con la sua storia ottocentesca di località termale cosmopolita, amata da viaggiatori britannici — richiama l’atmosfera sociale che lei seppe osservare e raccontare con tanta finezza nei suoi romanzi in quell’altra località termale inglese di Bath. Il Natale, nei suoi romanzi e nella sua vita, è un tempo di famiglia, visite, balli, lettere e riflessione: niente sfarzo ma relazioni, sentimenti e piccoli gesti che rivelano grandi verità. In quest’anno del 250° anniversario della sua nascita, rendiamo omaggio a Jane Austen, la cui voce — oggi come allora — continua a parlarci con intelligenza e umanità.