Author Archives: Andy

Piero makes a break for it!

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Piero is growing fast. Now he is half the height of Dino. He is also getting more mischievous.

Take this morning. F took them to the pinetta and let me sleep for an extra hour. Then we got ready to come to the beach. Piero was, as usual, outside. This time he was round the back of the house, discovering some new thing, something new to chew or somewhere colder than elsewhere.

It was nearly time to go. I walked round to the back and could see him the other side of the low wall, tucked in by the back fence.

I called him. He pricked up his ears. After another couple of calls, he got up and came trotting towards me. Dino had appeared by now and so they followed me back round to the front. Dino went ahead up the (marble) steps and I followed. I got to the door and looked behind me. Piero had got halfway up the steps but, realising that we were going inside, paused.

I noticed that he half turned and knew it was because he didn’t want to come in and went to get him. He turned full circle and bounded down the steps.

Luckily for me, he headed for the gate so I got him but it’s only a matter of time before he realises that his best bet is to head towards the back where he will be more difficult to get.

I can see us now, running round the garden with him thinking it’s a great game!

The White City

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I don’t suppose I’ve ever mentioned before but this place reeks of marble. This is, so I am told, the place for it. It is mined (or is it cut) from the mountains that sit behind me – me being on the beach, looking out to sea.

Apparently, this place (of which I had never heard before I came here with F) is famous, if not infamous, for it’s marble and. In particular, it’s white marble.

Various famous people have come here to pick their own marble for their kitchen or whatever. There are big yards, near where F has his house where there are huge, almost square blocks of the stuff, where they also cut it into huge flat sheets. Yesterday I saw some people who were being shown round one of these yards, obviously choosing the block or sheets they wanted.

The marble, since Roman times, was hauled down the mountainside, to the sea front where it has been shipped all over the world.

As one would expect, with marble being such a big thing here, marble is used in some of the strangest of places.

I mean, there are the usual, expected sculptures and monuments. At every roundabout, variously placed outside public buildings, in squares and one, of what looks like a baby polar bear, outside the school.

Some are modern, like one with waves with hands and heads sticking out – I guess to remember those lost at sea, some old and rather forgotten like the one of a dog, about 5 feet tall.

Then marble is used on houses that, elsewhere, would be unthinkable. Like, for instance, the base of houses, up to the damp course. And for tables and instead of skirting boards.

Then there’s the street. The pavements are not paved with gold but often marble. And, for me, the most extravagant thing is its use for kerb stones.

This is certainly a place for marble and mostly white marble. And it gives the place a rather opulent feel.

Woof Woof Sands

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Today, as it was cloudy, was the day for bau bau beach.

Bau bau is what young kids get told are dogs, much like we say ‘doggy’. Bau bau is also the Italian for woof woof or bow bow, being the noise a dog makes when it barks.

We took them to the pinetta first so that they would be tired. They were definitely tired – just not tired enough, it seems.

Actually, bau bau beach is one of the free beaches – i.e. one doesn’t have to pay. But you don’t get any facilities – like a bar, tables, a cabin, loungers or umbrellas.

Except, for €15 per season, you can use one of the loungers and one umbrella (that you must put up yourself).

Unlike a normal free beach, however, on this one you can take dogs.

It was Piero’s first time. He wasn’t keen on the water but, as it was the only way to get to some other dogs, he went in.

Dino wouldn’t go in further than his belly – until we threw a stick in. Then he went to retrieve it. Dino’ hair is short now so getting wet made no difference. Piero has never had his hair cut so when he got wet, he looked so skinny and drowned!

We did the paddling/swimming thing a few times and then went to sit under our umbrella for a bit. Piero found his voice. He wanted to be with a couple of border collies that were playing on the shore and, sometimes, swimming in to retrieve a ball that was thrown out for them. Piero didn’t like not being part of it so barked – a LOT!

But it was good fun for a few hours.

Then we took them to the pinetta again and then had breakfast (it being nearly 12.30). After doing some supermarket shopping we tidied up the garden a bit.

F is now having a bath, after which is dinner – stuffed tomatoes, watermelon and fruit salad.

Today was the dogs’ day. They are exhausted. And so am I!

Minutes away ………..

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Well, this is it!

The last time for getting up at 5.30 a.m. for 23 days.

And the last time for getting up at 5.30 a.m. with a temperature of at least 26°C until, probably, next summer, since it will be almost September by the time I do it again.

And my test worked, and I am happy about that.

In one hour, I leave work. I go home, hold T’s hand whilst she does her test; pack; shower and, with any luck, we shall leave.

F is going to be really busy today and doesn’t know what time he will finish – but I reckon he will try to finish as normal which will enable us to go.

It is so very hot an humid here, right now and, although it’s hot and humid there – it’s not as bad as here.

Less than 1 hour now.

Not that I’m counting down the minutes or anything ……….

Half-preparing

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Well, my first night ‘free’ for a long time.

I have been so busy and will continue to be busy for the next two days before the hols. I have tried to set up this WordPress thing to allow me to post by email. I got it working partially but the text of the message came out as gobbledygook. I might have another go tomorrow. It would allow me to post whilst I’m away or, at least, it would be much easier to post. Still, if I can’t do it that way, I can try something else. We’ll see.

I should have done a few minor repairs to some jeans and trousers but I will take the stuff away with us and do it then. Maybe. I mean – maybe I will take it away. And, anyway, even if I DO take it away, maybe I will do it. The probability is that I will take it away and bring it back in the same state. But I do have one week without F and I think I might do it then.

I have given the dogs their monthly anti-heartworm and flea stuff tonight so they’re ready to go.

I did the last shopping (I hope).

Tomorrow evening, I shall pack as Friday will be busy and I don’t want to have to do it then.

Two nights from now and I should be eating pizza (with aubergine, asparagus and lardo) in Bati Bati on the first night of our holiday (subject to F finishing work early enough, T finishing her English Test early enough and the traffic not being horrendous).

The weather is very hot right now but is due to change on Monday (typical). This evening, walking the dogs, it said it was 34°C which is quite warm really. Still, even when it changes it will still remain n the high 20s, so not too bad.

And I sit here finishing my nice cold beer before I take the dogs out and go to bed, for I am exhausted.

Till my next post. If you’re going on holiday too, then have a nice time. If not, then have a nice time anyway.

Social or Anti

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I don’t know why but during the weekend I kept thinking of my parents. Well, not thinking of them, exactly, but rather how much they wouldn’t like this. This thing that I do now.

I always thought that I would never pay to go onto a beach. But I used to hate carrying everything. Not that I actually carried everything, of course, but as I was the eldest, it was always more. And, instead of setting up camp near the entrance to the beach, we always had to go where there was no one else. Which meant walking on the beach. And walking. And walking. Laden as we were with deckchairs and windbreaks and costumes and food. And walking until I thought I would die. Or felt I would die. Or wanted to die with shame and embarrassment.

Even when we arrived at what seemed to be the furthest possible location, it wasn’t finished. For there was the setting up of the windbreak, the deck chairs, the changing into costumes, one at a time, using this thing that my Mum had fashioned out of, what seemed to be some sort of toweling but was almost like a curtain – but a very ugly curtain, with elastic at the top or drawstrings or something so that it covered you from the neck down. I absolutely HATED changing on the beach.

Then there was the food. We were a family of 6 so there was a lot of food. Sandwiches made that morning, sausage rolls made last week and kept in tupperware, rock cakes, hard boiled eggs. And other stuff.

It all seemed such a palaver.

But, being 6, I guess they couldn’t afford to go to restaurants and we didn’t have burger places then – except Wimpy, which was dreadful (not that the burger places now are much good). I understand now and I think I understood then.

That doesn’t mean I liked it. I didn’t. I HATED it. I hated everything about it. It’s like we were some sort of tribe, invading the beach. But with the embarrassment of it all I was, kind of, glad that we weren’t near other people. But they seemed to hate it when other people came near. If someone pitched up near to us they would complain and ask (themselves) why the person had to park themselves so close to us.

And, on reflection, perhaps that is one of the reasons I find it hard to socialise, in general. I wasn’t brought up to socialise, I guess.

Of course, in the early evening (unless the weather was not so good) we had to reverse all this. Packing away the food left-overs, uprooting the windbreak and rolling it up, collapsing the deckchairs. Getting changed again using the stupid and hateful changing robe thing. And then carrying the whole lot back to the car.

However, now, I love the fact that we just go to the beach. We take towels. We take personal stuff. But we don’t have to take deckchairs or food or an umbrella or a windbreak. It’s not a 6-mile hike to the spot we have. Of course, there are people always nearby. It’s not like we can hide away. And because F is from there and so are many people on the beach and that we share an umbrella with another couple (who only come for about an hour), you can’t really NOT talk to anyone.

But it’s nice.

And, coming back to the point, a lifetime away from anything my parents would have done.

I am really ready for this

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The holiday starts next Friday and I can hardly wait.

I am so busy at the moment that I seem to not even have a second to myself. Of course, that’s an exaggeration – especially as every weekend we are away. But it does feel like it.

So, three weeks away (F is only coming the first two) – with time to relax, is definitely a need.

Who knows, we might even get to meet up with Lola. I’ve mentioned it to F and he thinks we might make Pietrasanta the place to meet as we’re supposed to go to some restaurant there. It’s run by the nephew or someone connected to the woman vet who has the umbrella just in front of us.

And we have to go to La Brace ‘cos F really wants to go there (we didn’t go last year).

And we have to do other things. Hmm. I can see it will be just as busy – but at least it will involve much eating and drinking ;-)

I am not 20

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Personally, I think it was the last mojito that did it. After all, it wasn’t a mojito at all but, rather than rum, was something else entirely.

I was, as said by one of the characters in the Fast Show, Rowley Birkin QC, and shown below, very, very drunk.

Of course, I didn’t go out with the intention of ending up completely wasted. No, no. It was just a meal out with friends. We didn’t even start off by drinking much. OK so an aperitivo at the bar we all met up in. And, I suppose, I did drink most of E’s drink since she didn’t like it.

Then we ahd some wine with the meal. Well, three bottles of the good stuff and a carafe of the house wine but that was between six of us.

OK so one person hardly drunk any, another only slightly more, so I guess effectively 4 bottles between 4 which, I suppose, is a bottle each.

But it was the beach party that did it really.

One of the nice things about Italy is the cocktails. There’s no such thing as gills. Or is it gils? In any event – measuring. They don’t do it.

Since the barman was the son of E (who’s drink I had nearly drunk earlier), he did the mojitos for me and Alf. I’m not a fan but it was a disco (with the dreadful Italian summer music) and there was sand beneath my feet and it was warm and people were dancing and it seemed to go down quite well.

At some point, someone mentioned going for a swim in the sea but, even in my inebriated state, I knew that was dangerous and declined – saying it was dangerous. In the end, no one did go for a swim. Maybe I had frightened them. Or, at least, made them think.

I wasn’t going to have another but, you know, it seemed we weren’t likely to go home any time soon and so, I thought, why not?

Of course, in the light of day there were a million and one reasons why not. But it was not the light of day but about 1 a.m. These reasons did not even cross my mind. But, apparently, they had run out of rum and so our wonderful new friend, the barman, suggested something else which we agreed to try.

To be honest, by then, it could well have been antifreeze and I would have drunk it. Perhaps it was antifreeze? I drank it anyway. And then I remember very little until about 7 a.m. when I first woke up.

Not when I GOT up, mind you. Just woke up. The dogs were being a bit of a pain so I let them out in the garden.

F woke up about 10.15. I had woken up several times between 7 and then. We got up and took the dogs out.

In the end, we got to the beach about 12.30 – about 3 hours later than we usually do. As F said, we shouldn’t really do this very often and I totally agree. It’s not like we’re 20 any more.

Still it was a nice evening. From what I recall!

It’s time to move on.

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“It will be fixed within 3 days”, he states.

“What? Another 3 days?”, I query with a certain amount of incredulity.

“What do you mean?”, he asks.

“I rang on Friday evening”, I reply, “and they told me that it would be fixed by Monday”.

“One moment”, he says, “I will check our records”.

I wait. I can hear the clicking of keys on keyboard.

“No, I’m sorry but I don’t have any record on the system”.

“But I did ring on Friday evening”.

“It’s not that I don’t believe you, it’s just that there’s nothing on the computer and that means that we can’t do anything until the 26th. If it still doesn’t work on the 26th, call us and we can send an email to the Technical people”.

Well, on the bright side, I now know how it works.

They receive a call to say that it isn’t working and they do nothing for three days. If, in three days, their technical people haven’t fixed the problem, then, and only then, will they contact the technical people.

They are, in fact, a bunch of tossers.

Today I look for someone else to provide me with the Internet as Telecom Italia are a fucking disgrace.

Things that make you go grrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr

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“Come here and look at this”, he shouts from the bedroom.

I have just left the room to do something and, in fact, may be in the middle of doing that very thing.

Like last night.

And then this morning.

Last night I was setting my coffee maker for this morning to ensure I had my huge mug of cappuccino ready to help me feel ‘alive’.

This morning it was as I was switching off the computer and putting everything back in place for my cleaner.

Last night, on hearing the call, I muttered something along the lines of “What the fuck now?” and tried to ignore it. Of course, ignoring it is NOT an option. “Andy, come and have a look”, is the different shout. I’ll go in a minute, I think, as I take the coffee out of the fridge to fill up.

“Andy!” I start filling the coffee container of the machine. “Andy?”. It’s no good. It cannot be ignored.

Clutching the tin of coffee and the scoop used to fill the small container of the machine I go into the bedroom. In my head, I am stomping into the bedroom. In reality I am just walking. I wonder if my carrying of the tin and the scoop will ‘say’ anything to him – even if I know it won’t. I make some sort of sound when I see what I’ve come to see and go back to doing the coffee. I suppose the ‘some sort of sound’ could be misinterpreted as an OK. But that would be a misinterpretation. the correct interpretation would be more on the lines of “this was NOT worth me coming all this way for”. I feel sure it’s seen as OK.

This morning, when the same sort of thing happened, I said, out loud, but to myself “I do love you but sometimes…….”

Of course, when I say ‘out loud’ I don’t mean anywhere near loud enough for him to hear! In fact, I could barely hear it myself!

Still, I can’t be annoyed for long.

Except sometimes when he does this thing more than once, each time waiting a few moments after I have disappeared from view. That makes me go grrrrrr more than once and, therefore, for longer.

Thank goodness we don’t live in a larger house :-D