I went to visit Carlo at work. For those of you that don't know, he runs the local cemetary here in Positano and has just moved his office from a small cramped space next to the public toilet into a lovely new room that was actually built for other purposes.
The 'Bone Washing Room' has never actually been used for washing bones because old habits are hard to break. When bones need to be washed it is done outside, behind a wall, so that unsuspecting visitors can get the fright of their lives when walking around that particular corner. Anyway, the Bone Washing room is now the office and he has decked it ut with a new desk, a comfy sofa and even a small TV for those rainy days when there are no graves to dig.
The view from his office door is quite special if you look straight ahead. Blue sea, distant islands, and a prosperous yucca tree. Off to one side, of course is a selection of tombs and graves.
Carlo handily points out to me where Paolos grandad lies, as if it were important that I know, even though his name is written on the cross.
"Yes?" I ask, "and why did you point that out to me?"
He picks up a nearby watering can and waters Paolos grandads flowers before answering.
"It's obvious. I use Paolos waterpump on the beach in the summer after a swim and I just want people to know that I repay him the favour by watering his Grandad."