I came here to find passion. Well, that wasn’t the only reason, but it was one of the many. And, certainly, the Italians have passion off to a fine art. Sometimes it can be confused (by me and others) as anger or over-excitement.
I must apologise for my lack of posts this month. There have been many times that I’ve started to write something, been distracted or ran out of gas halfway through and they just never get finished.
I have wanted to say things about the events in Tibet; gay people; drink/driving; immigrants; and many other things but they just haven’t made it to the blog.
Gianna Nannini or, as I thought for ages, Gian Annanini (although why some woman would have a blokes name, God only knows), was truly fantastic. Her name is pronounced Janananini as there is no gap when you say it.
This is helped, no doubt, by the fact that the last concert (and first here, in Italy) that I went to was…wait for it…Robbie Williams!
(Picture is not Rufus but is a random image from Google Images when I type the title in and did a search).
We’re walking through the park. Just a normal Saturday. Rufus, as he does from time to time, finds a shrub (he has certain ones on our usual walk) that he rubs against as if he’s grooming himself (maybe he is – but it’s much better than rolling on the ground in shit, which has been known and is not, as I’m sure you can imagine, very pleasant).
I’m just an ordinary, simple kind of bloke. I like food, beer and wine, the sun, relaxing, reading, watching a good film, having good times and conversations with friends, etc.
I don’t like football, ignorant and bigoted people, bad food, driving, smelly people, etc.
I don’t have hidden depths. Scratch the surface and there’s just more surface, nothing else.
The café is almost like a bar in a pub. An old-fashioned bar. The fixed, wooden bench with the high back hugs the wall all the way around. The ‘bar’ is wooden too. Nice, old wood. The tables are large and rectangular and, would you believe it, wooden. The floor is wooden without carpet. It’s all well scrubbed – spotlessly clean.
The feeling is warm. The sun shines in through the windows and it is bright inside, in spite of all that wood. The espresso machine, behind the bar, gives a delicious smell to the whole place. The staff are, in the main, dressed in white.
This was going to be a long, rambling post but I decided to cut it short.
Jack would be appalled.
Having had a dreadful time that evening already and being much later than normal, I pay for the supermarket items I have bought with a card. The total cost is €40.02. I hand over my debit card.
‘Have you got the 2 cents?’
Last night we went to a great house party held by a colleague of V’s. I did have a little too much red wine but didn’t realise that until I woke up this morning. Luckily, I don’t, generally, suffer from hangovers so I just felt a little sick. However, the party was FUN! And I spoke more Italian than normal and even had some sort of debate with some guy, who’s standing in the upcoming elections here, from some new communist party. Well, I say debate – he didn’t speak English and, now that I know I was quite tipsy, God knows what I actually said to him.
Perhaps I should say why we were in Scotland?
I have not been to many weddings but there are two that stand out as being the most magical and romantic weddings of all. Both were held in Scotland and both held at a castle. And, for both, we felt most honoured to be invited.
The first was for our dear friends B&M. Not only was it held in the rose garden of the castle (it was such beautiful weather) but we also stayed for two nights in the castle itself as guests of the bride and groom.
And it was one of the most fun times that I have ever had at a wedding.
The second one was when we went to Scotland this month. We did not stay at the castle but in a hotel nearby. But it was a short walk to the castle. This was an evening wedding and, by the time we started walking to the castle, it was already dark.
But the castle was lit up and, funnily enough, it is the same castle that I used to see from the motorway when I drove up to see B&M when they were still in business, so it was nice to finally be there, all these years later.
As we entered the castle gate there were braziers to give heat and a warm glow to the surrounding courtyard. Then another gate led to the main courtyard, around which were the buildings of the castle including the chapel (where the wedding service was held) and the Great Hall, where the feast and dancing were to take place.
In the main courtyard was a piper, piping the guests into the castle (like the other wedding) and then the chapel was lit by candles – but many, many candles and a harpist played music whilst we waited for the bride.
The bride looked resplendent and the service was beautiful. The parson, being so tall (as he explained to us later) chose to have the bride and groom facing us with himself placed to one side. It made it really nice because it meant that we saw them clearly and could hear them much better.
The meal in the Great Hall was magnificent. The dancing (especially the Scottish dancing) very good but the thing that will stick in my mind, and, I think, is a testament to the bride, is that the friends all instantly got along. In fact, it seemed, for some of the friends we met, that we had know them for years by the time the wedding was over.
Obviously we knew some from Milan but even those we just met were great. I will never forget the stories of teaching English in Hong Kong which had us rolling around with laughter. And Vanessa (from Zimbabwe) and I were both convinced we had met before!
Smokers congregated outside, as we usually do and, as expected, some of the greatest people end up there (me, obviously, being one of them 
).
Yes, we had great fun and the whole affair was truly magical. If you are planning to get married, marrying in a castle in Scotland creates a special atmosphere that can never be forgotten. Of course, the friends also help, so it’s a good idea to get some good ones!
More on our trip to the UK.
I have mentioned this before but it was particularly noticeable as I haven’t been back to the UK for a while.
People here, in Milan (and maybe the whole of Italy), walk just like they drive. There is no forward planning and manoeuvres are made at the last minute and only if absolutely necessary. Except that, the difference between people and cars is that, if you bump into another car with your vehicle there will be a lot of time spent sorting out the insurance; shouting and screaming at each other with a lot of gesturing; many years of paying extra for your insurance.
Bumping into people does not cause any of those things. So, as a result, people manoeuvre a lot less when walking and there is a lot of bumping. And, more importantly for the people from the UK – no apologising!
Whilst in the Scottish city, we had spent a couple of hours walking round the shops and dancing in the street – by that, I mean the little two-step dance whilst trying to avoid other people.
I asked V if he had noticed that, in all the time we had been walking, not once had anyone so much as brushed past us. He replied that he hadn’t but that now I had mentioned it, it was true. It was so pleasant. I must admit that, having been here for almost 4 years now, I no longer apologise when bumped into or even when I bump into someone else. It has taken all this time and a great deal of personal resolve to stop saying ‘sorry’. There is a way of walking here that means head up, stare straight ahead, ignore the fact that the person is approaching you without any intention of moving slightly out of your way and, if they are much bigger than you, only move slightly to one side at the very last possible moment. If there is any physical contact, whatever you do, DO NOT say ‘sorry’ – after all, it’s their fault for being in your way.
But it was so nice to stroll around without having bruises at the end!
I did drink a lot of tea whilst there and it was very, very nice. But I did miss the Italian coffee. So, whilst out, we saw a Café Nero and decided to go in and have the ‘real Italian coffee’ that they purported to sell.
Of course, here, a café latte is not taken so often and, certainly, is not as big as the Café Nero ‘regular’ let alone ‘large’. However, we were in the UK so a large café latte seemed in order.
Maybe it’s the water; or the coffee; or the milk – whatever it was, it did not make it particularly nice. And I very much doubt (although I didn’t try it, so I can’t be sure) that their espresso is not the best this side of Milan. After all, we have quite an area of Italy between Milan and the French border and, I can assure you, coffee in any part of Italy is superb.
I do remember that, when we still had the flat in Hay and returned to help out at the festival 3 years ago, we brought our moka back with us along with a supply of coffee so that we could make our morning fix.