Before we could even seriously consider restructuring the hayloft in the barn, the ancient roof clearly needed to be repaired. However, the current owner of our house and of the barn in question - the grand-daughter of the man we originally rented from - wasn't interested in its renovation at first.
The ancient roof, though, isn't just decrepit, but dangerously so, and old terracotta coppi roof tiles fall down through the rotting beams and planks. Some kind of intervention was urgently needed, so the landlady eventually decided on a "tapullo", which in local dialect means a "patch".
These days Angelo the builder - The Builder in our tiny area, and the man who knows everyone and everything (including where to find spare roof tiles, left over from another re-roofing job of the nearby church decades ago, hidden away in the ivy) - is working daily "tapulling" the barn roof.
As used as I've become to country isolation over the last decade or so, it's kind of strange to have someone right out there all the time, talking away (Angelo is a wonderful man, in a rustic sort of way, and swears vehemently at the ancient roof when it doesn't cooperate ... which seems to be happening all the time), who's able to look into our house from the barn he's re-roofing, and who watches me and comments as I work in the garden. This tapulling of the roof, is turning out to be a very interesting experience indeed, in many unexpected ways.