Many wrongs … but not all!

Many wrongs ... but not all!

My hands are rough, like a washerwoman’s whose whole life has been spent washing clothes by hand. F says to moisturise but I really don’t like the way they feel afterwards, so I don’t. That’s probably wrong.

I’ve always been a bit nerdy about washing my hands. V use to remark on it often. I really hate having hands that don’t feel clean. Now, I’m washing them more. Every time I go out, I have to touch the lift doors, the front gate and, if I’m shopping, money, since here, we still do things mostly with cash. And, obviously, that’s wrong.

The restrictions regarding going out have not really affected me much. We were never ones for going out for a walk (except for the dogs) or visiting places. The most we would do is go for a beer or go to a restaurant and we always complain if we have to go outside our area. But now we can’t even do that. I can imagine we, like most of the others, will be going for a beer and a pizza as soon as we can! And I’m sure that will actually be the wrong thing to do.

So being at home is OK. I have films to watch, F has deep cleaning to do. I am lucky, at the moment, that I can work from home so the day is quite busy. I am trying to stick to a routine – start work at 8 (as normal), work through until sometime after 12.30, take the dogs for a walk for an hour, then work until 5 ish – when I stop because by then, I’ve had enough. We have the occasional teleconference with colleagues or customers to break it up a bit. But, at least I can smoke when I want whilst working and don’t have to take a break as I normally do. Of course, not taking a break and smoking non stop are wrong.

Even with work, I can’t help but look at the news often and see what everyone is doing (or not doing) and checking on the latest decrees which tell us, for example, that all the parks (with fences round them) are closed for the foreseeable future. Today I remembered that there is a park without fences that has at least two good sized dog areas – so we went there for our lunchtime walk – we do these lunchtime walks at the weekend anyway. There aren’t that many people about. The most people we saw in any one place was the queue to get into the supermarket, everyone duly staying at least 1 metre away from each other (but often more) and on the edge of the pavement – except one woman with a dog, who stood more or less in the middle of the pavement and made it difficult to get past with my two dogs, me giving her a Paddington stare and shaking me head. Not that it did any good. But she was wrong to do that.

We had the singing on the balconies bit the other night. Well, except for our street. Some people came out and tried but there weren’t enough and, anyway, it was hampered by the trees in the street, just coming into leaf and deadening the sounds. Not that I knew any of the stuff people were trying to sing anyway. So, when the following day, people were supposed to come out and give applause for the medics, it didn’t happen here. Which is certainly wrong.

The dogs are happy (if exhausted) that we are with them almost all day. There is a part of me that doesn’t mind all this. After all, I’ve never been much for socialising and now, with not seeing many people and staying your distance from them, there’s no need to be sociable – and I have to admit I quite like it. Which is wrong of me.

The only problem I have is the problem with coughing. Being quite a heavy smoker I have a cough. Not all of the time but sometimes. And now, when I’m out on the street, the need to cough is extreme and the knowledge that people will get worried about it means I suppress the cough but then it makes it harder – so I do a half-cough when no one is near, just in case they get the wrong idea!

And we’re eating at home, much like we normally do at a weekend. F made brodo the other day and we had brodo with pasta for a couple of days. Then I did cottage pie and we finish that tonight. And then we’ll have a sandwich around the middle of the day. And then other snacks from time to time. So, instead of getting “beach ready”, we’ll be getting fatter. And added to everything else, that’s not really good (although I wouldn’t go so far as to say that it’s wrong.)

But, the main thing about this is that we’re OK (as far as I know) AND we haven’t killed each other yet by being stuck together. And that can’t be wrong, can it? :-)

Stuff happened and is still happening

Well, Happy New Year to my readers.

Stuff happened and is still happening

Christmas and New Year were spectacular. Really, I’ve never had such a lovely time.

The usual Boxing Day (all-day) lunch was brought forward to Christmas Day as Al had to work on 27th. Before all that, on the Saturday, 21st, we had an apertivo thing – i.e. a party. Around 50 people came and it went really well. We announced our marriage (to those who didn’t know) and had a cake and everything. Everyone was super nice and it was all lovely. As Al and P had advised us that they would be coming on Christmas Day, F invited two ex-colleagues for Boxing Day.

The menu for Christmas day was similar to the one I suggested below but the duck was with apples instead of orange sauce and I made Ethel’s Trifle. They also brought Brodo with capallette which we had before the Cullen Skink. With the exception of some antipasto, vegetables, and a little of the duck, all was eaten – including all of the trifle (normally there’s some left for the following day. I was a little shocked, to be honest. But also pleased that they liked it all so much. The following day Frankie did his involtino but in individual portions and using turkey instead of chicken.

Then he was off work until 2nd January, which was really great.

New Year’s Eve was spent on our own, just trying to keep the dogs OK with all the fireworks going off – although Dino is getting a bit deaf now so it’s a bit better. There was one night, over the holidays, when he started howling during the night, as if an ambulance or fire engine was going past. Except it wasn’t so we concluded that he had been dreaming about one!

And now we’re back at work and 2020 is moving on. Things to do include finding an Italian teacher for the examinations. Holidays are booked: Japan; the UK (which includes a wedding and Sister Act with Whoopi Goldberg). And we’re going to the INPs office on Wednesday to find out more about possible retirement for me.

And then, of course, there’s Brexit with the next “moment” being 31st January – but it will still “take up” most of this year, I suspect.

We don’t really need Santa to come …… we have plenty already!

So, here it comes. The house is nearly ready. Progress is being made but we have an aperitivo with between 30 and 40 guests on Saturday evening so everything must be more super-clean and super-tidy than normal. Final cleaning is being done on Friday. The dogs go to the hairdresser on Saturday. Food has been ordered. Everything is in place (I hope).

But, the Tree is up
The tree

the house is lit
We have lights

and the collection of Father Christmases have been put up.
Father Christmas collection

Christmas cards and presents under the tree will be done on Saturday, just before the “party” and after certain places have been re-cleaned (obviously).

Still, I have to admit that F does a great job of doing everything. For me, I’ve cleaned the silver and done half the horses-head coat hooks (we never did them before and they look so nice clean – they’re brass or something). I might do the door furniture too (F did them as well as half the horse-head coat hooks – but I do a better job).

I told him last night that, as he knows, I truly hate cleaning but, for some reason, I enjoy cleaning silver or brass. I said it might be because of the obviously huge difference it makes, whereas normal cleaning doesn’t make any real difference to me – you can’t “see it”. His reply was that we would only buy silver furniture in future! He still makes me laugh.

p.s. The aperitivo is for a Christmas Toast and, also, to celebrate our big day last September – quite a few of the people coming don’t know we got married (although some do). We’re having a cake and everything :-)

Cooking and cleaning in preparation

Cooking and cleaning in preparation

So, Christmas is nearly here and there’s something I like doing before Christmas but for Christmas.

And that’s cooking. But cooking something unusual. In this case, a Sauternes Jelly and a Smoky Beetroot Ketchup, both to be used with cheese. I do this both for me and for Al and P who are likely to come on Boxing Day for our usual day long feast. I say likely because this year then might come on Christmas Day instead. In any event, the menu will be the same:

Antipasto (meats, salami, Russian salad, English cheeses with the things mentioned above, olives, etc.)
Cullen Skink
Individual Cottage Pies with mushy peas and some other vegetables
Roast Duck with Orange Sauce and vegetables as above
Veneziana (which is a little like Pannetone but better)
Maybe English Trifle or something else if I decide to do it.
Wine/Prossecco/other things

We have to do plenty of food because Al eats … a lot!

Anyway, that really wasn’t the point of this post.

So there I am, in the kitchen, making the things above. It’s time consuming (although not difficult) and uses lots of pots and pans – so I am washing up often to reuse pans and utensils. I don’t have any problem with this and really enjoy it as it’s going to be something home made to be presented for our Christmas or Boxing Day dinner.

F, meanwhile, is cleaning in the lounge. The cleaning is spread over a number of weeks before the final BIG CLEAN, a few days before Christmas. These weekends, cleaning involves taking everything out of a cupboard, cleaning and/or washing everything, cleaning the inside of the cupboard and then putting everything back. The dining room, with all the plates and things that “might” be used, has already been done last weekend. Now it’s the turn of the lounge.

And there are things to be washed up and so he does. This is a bit of a pain because he’s at the sink sometimes when I want to use it but, hey ho, such is life. Most of the time he’s out of my way.

At a certain point I need to grind some spices. I can find the mortar but not the pestle. I ask F if he knows where it is. He doesn’t but thinks it might be in the same cupboard as the mortar. I tell him not to worry and I’ll have a look. I do and it’s not there. I look in a couple of drawers where it might be and still don’t find it. I find an alternative to a pestle – in fact, what I have used before.

He arrives in the kitchen. “Did you find it?”, he asks. I tell him no but not to worry. He decides to look in the cupboard. He takes everything out and puts it on the table – the very table that has my recipe sheets, the Sauternes Jelly stuff currently going through the sieve, the jars I will steralise shortly and several other things.

He then states that he needs to clean this cupboard. I have my back to him stirring something on the stove. I am gobsmacked. He can see what I’m doing and still wants to clean in the effing kitchen! I don’t say anything for what could I possibly say? (BTW, the pestle wasn’t there, as I already knew.)

I think, possibly because I didn’t say anything or possibly because I had to go to one of the recipes and, in order to see it, I had to move something he’d placed on top, he went away, annoyed.

But this was 100% not my fault. But he wasn’t happy that he couldn’t do the cleaning as he wanted, for sure.

And that continued for the rest of the time. He went back to cleaning cupboards in the lounge. Occasional mutterings were heard.

Eventually, in a break between things (I’d finished the Ketchup but the Jelly still needed more time through the sieve), I told him I was taking the dogs out and then going to the supermarket.

By the time I got back from the supermarket, all the stuff (well, nearly) on the table had been put back. I don’t honestly know if things were cleaned or not and didn’t ask.

Later, I took a shower and went out with A, as we do on a Sunday.

By the time I got back for dinner, everything was fine. Cleaning was not mentioned.

And, in case you were wondering, the Jelly was perfect (but it only made two jars) and the Ketchup was, erm, different. Not as good as I would have liked but, still, worth doing and I shall still use it with cheese (it made 5 jars).

Christmas, geese and, really, Christmas Card Stamps

So, the new stamps arrived yesterday.

To those few in far-flung places, I’ve already sent off the cards as it included our news for this year, so they have old stamps.

But for everyone else, the new stamps will be used. All the cards are ready and I’ll put on the stamps tonight.

This is the one I’m using (suitable for Europe and, as usual, the best one.) Actually I really quite like this year’s stamp:
Italian Christmas Stamp for Europe

And, although I don’t get them, this is the stamp for just Italy and it’s the religious one:
Italian Christmas Stamp for Italy

Some pics as promised

Sorry for the delay but, finally, I’ve organised myself a bit and can post some pics of the grand event that was over 2 months ago now.

Enjoy :-)

Here we are, waiting to go in
Waiting

During the ceremony
Ceremony all

The putting on of the rings
Putting on the rings

The kiss to seal it all
The kiss

A close up of the rings
The rings

The hug
The hug

And signing the register
Me signing
F signing

Afterwards with the crazy hippy officiator
Group photo

Then on to the dog park
Dog Park

Then Polpetta
Polpetta

Then the wedding breakfast
Wedding Breakfast

The cake
The cake

Bar Blanco finishes it off
Blanco

I can’t believe how wonderful the day was and how happy I am.

Oh! And a final one of Tourist Tony – our photographer for the day (these photos aren’t his – his are to be given to us later)
Tourist Tony

10 anni and 22 day – versary

So, today it’s 10 years. 10 of the best, for certain.

F is in Japan right now but coming back tomorrow and will be, hopefully, here tomorrow night (late) or if he misses his connection, Saturday.

When we went to Scotland, I got him to try Cullen Skink – which he loved and had several times afterwards. I’ve managed to procure some smoked haddock (essential for this) and so plan to make it on Saturday, together with a chocolate cake. That’s my present since now, of course, we have both this anniversary and the new one that is only on it’s 22nd dayversary.

I suppose, at some point, the one will take over from the other.

I never did talk about that day since it’s still not on social media (except a bit on Twitter ‘cos no one really uses Twitter.) It’s a kind of secret but not a secret. So far, only one person has noticed the ring. Obviously, I did tell some of my friends so we’ve had cards and even presents which is nice but unexpected, since no one was involved in the day itself, apart from the witnesses (and the dogs).

So, I went to work in the morning because I didn’t have enough holiday to take the morning off too. I came home about 12ish and we got ready. At the last minute, F decided that we should wear our dog T-shirts under our suits. I had the one with Piero and he had the one with Dino (or la mia vita, as he calls him). We walked to town, passing through the park so that the dogs were a little tired.

We arrived early, of course. We sat outside as it was sunny and reasonably warm. There’s a little garden thing at the back. Our witnesses found us and we sat around talking. At one point, P (she’s married to Af, and they were our witnesses) told me to pose with her for a picture because a tourist was taking pictures of the garden. As soon as we posed though, he turned his camera to an upper part of the building.

Eventually, we were into a side room signing some paperwork and having our documents checked. The woman doing this seemed a little bit crazy (in a nice way) – with a wide-brimmed hat, slightly 70s style, fingerless, lace gloves, etc. In the end she was the one who officiated it all and she was perfect. She seemed more excited about the whole thing than either us or the witnesses!

We went into the room and there was (paid for by our witnesses) an official photographer. I also noticed the tourist was inside but didn’t take much notice. The room is quite beautiful with full length mirrors down one side. The door is always open so anyone can slip in.

We did the thing. Had pictures taken (the tourist was still hanging around). It had taken perhaps 20 minutes, top! We went out into the nearby courtyard and were introduced to the tourist – who was P&Af’s friend and who was there to take more informal pictures. He took several of us 6 (don’t forget the dogs) and then we invited him for an aperitivo. We went to Aperol, which overlooks the Duomo. We had one drink. Then the “tourist” took off and we walked back to the park, stopping, on the way, at F’s normal lunchtime cafe for a bottle of prosecco and 4 glasses. We took these to the park and let the dogs play in the dog area whilst we drank the prosecco.

Then home to drop off the dogs. Whilst there, we had another bottle of prosecco.

Then to the restaurant that F had booked. Our normal pizza place. F had told them that it was Af’s birthday!

So, we didn’t have pizza but some antipasto (fish and vegetables) followed by more fish. During this time we had another 4/5 bottles of prosecco.

Then the cake which F had bought from our cake shop and on which was a platform. F brought out the two men figurines to put on top and we cut the cake. With that we had the huge bottle of champagne which we shared with the restaurant owners and staff and couple of random diners.

We then played a few scratchcards with the cook – who is also one of the restaurant owners, went to the Chinese shop on the corner to play some more, then walked to the bar near our home and had some more cocktails. It had been forecast to rain sometime during the day but, in fact, did not.

All in all, it was a wonderful day and we were both very happy (and quite drunk!)

I will add photos to this in the next few days.

About 5 months later …

about 5 months later ...

Let’s be honest, he never actually wanted to do it.

If other people asked (and they did, often over the last few years), he always said that he didn’t see the point. Whereas I always said that I would in a moment and then, by way of justification, suggested that it meant it would be much easier if one of us had to go into hospital or if one of us dies, it would ensure the other got such things as pensions, etc.

And then came Brexit and with that a great deal of uncertainty, not least because I had never formalised anything. So I went about formalising everything and I’ve done it. But, as always, there’s a nagging doubt, an ongoing uncertainty. After all, come October 31st (or any other date that it might happen) I will cease to have the “right” to remain here but will be subject to the whims of the Italian Government, or the EU or both – who will, in turn, react to any nonsense that the British Government will dream up.

So, whereas most Italians tell me “Don’t worry, you’ll be alright”, I’m not convinced. And F knows this. And so, against his feelings he went ahead to try and get it all done as a surprise. Except that, due to bureaucracy, it was really too difficult. So, when he told me, we went about going through all the hoops anyway.

And here we are, about 5 months later, about to complete it all.

Except, he doesn’t want all the bells and whistles (which is OK) and so he has only (he has said) told one person. I have told 2.

“And afterwards?,” I asked. “People will see and will ask questions,” I added. “Your cousin will notice for sure.”
“I’ll just say it’s a present,” he replied. Which, of course, it is, technically.

But, I wonder why not tell them? Will there be (is there?) some guilt, on his part, that people won’t have had the chance to celebrate? Honestly, I don’t know. I understood not telling them before the wedding (it’s complicated). But after?

I mean, I will say, especially as I find it hard to lie to people. But that’s for my friends. Where they are his, or his family, I guess I have to go along with it. I mean to say, I don’t want to be shouting it out but, if people ask, I would like to tell the truth.

So, further, last night we were talking about it and I tried to explain my problem and he said that I should say what I want to. I tried to explain that this was fine for my friends but with joint friends or his friends and family, we should really be “in harmony” – but it really didn’t seem to bother him.

He’s a little strange sometimes. I can’t understand his motivation.

But I guess it’ll all be alright in the end.

I wish ……. kind of

A Younger Me?

It’s hot here. We’re in the middle of some sort of heatwave. I really do like it but would obviously prefer it if I were on the beach, under the umbrella, reading a good book.

But I’d forgotten this thing that comes with it. Where you are almost breaking out in a sweat all the time. Having a shower helps – but just for the time under the shower. After that, you actually break into a sweat before reverting back to this almost sweating – where the skin feels like it’s about to burst into full-on flooding. It’s not really comfortable but I’d much rather this than feeling cold.

Having just been out for a cigarette, checking the weather forecast, it’s supposed to be a real temperature of 37°C at the moment but feeling like 43°! Tomorrow will be hotter still. And this weekend, we should go down to Carrara, which will be lovely. It will be our first time on the beach this year (the weather up to about 2 weeks ago being pretty dire) and I’m looking forward to getting some sun and reading a book.

In the meantime, yesterday, someone sent me a picture of one of the models at the recent Paris Fashion Week shows who, apparently, reminded him of me – a younger me, of course, hence the picture at the top. And you see the lips? Similar, for sure, hence the horrible nickname I had at my first secondary school.

And, last night at the bar, I was looking at other, younger people, and wondering if they realise what they have because I didn’t. If I had known I was so “beautiful” maybe I could have had a different life. But only kind of, since I’m happy with my life, more or less, to date and wouldn’t really want to change it. But, obviously, I don’t know how it would have been so, just for a moment, last night, in the bar, I wondered …

The Boiler Room

The Boiler Room

Things I remember.

I remember it’s dark. I remember it’s cold. I remember the hods, the coke, the ashes, the metal bucket used to carry the hot ashes to a place further away to tip them on the growing heap of cold ashes. I remember the smell, how the ash rose in a cloud in that small room, breathing in that cloud and the acrid, hot ash hitting your throat, getting everywhere – in your hair, in your nose, on your clothes and, if you weren’t careful or if you were unlucky, in your eyes.

But there was a sanctuary in that small, windowless, airless room full of ash and smell, for there was heat.

Every morning and every evening, clean out the ash that had fallen, scraping it out into the bucket, using a brush to get it clean; carrying said bucket away to tip onto the pile (at the end of the garden, I think), then shovelling the hod into the bottom of the pile of coke, filling up the hod as much as possible – you wanted to do this as few times as possible, carrying the hod over (was the coke in a different room/place?) and tipping it into the feeder. It was heavy. You were tired. Sick and tired.

But at least there was heat.

Was I eight? Or older? Did they replace it with one fired by oil, needing a large tank nearby? The door to this room was next to the kitchen door, at the back of the bungalow.

I felt like Cinderella – without the Fairy Godmother, or the Prince, or the glass slipper. I got up before everyone else to make sure that everyone had heating. It was early. Possibly 6? Often dark. Or, probably, I was awoken to do this in the morning. In the evening, possibly, straight after school. Nobody else did this job – only me. And I had forgotten about it – but the smell I can still smell, the heat I can still feel, the dust in every pore, I still remember. And I would shut the door to the room and I could pretend that I wasn’t there, in that world, I could be anywhere I wanted to be …. as long as it also had a boiler room!

p.s. In case you didn’t know what I was talking about:
Hod
A hod – although I seem to remember I used plastic ones.

Coke
Not the type of coke you may have initially thought about!