Author Archives: Andy

A habit that I like

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I know he’s awake.  Well, when I say ‘awake’ I mean semi-conscious, at least.

People have habits.  Each person has different habits.  Things they do that are not necessarily strange in themselves but are done to excess (comparatively) or are fashioned only by some ‘freaky’ way that their body is built or their mind works.

I have the ‘habit’ of washing my hands.  I do it a lot.  My hands feel ‘dirty’ often and I take every opportunity to wash them.  Well, that’s not entirely true.  I am aware this is some sort of Obsessive Compulsive Disorder and so I actually stop myself from doing it quite often – aware that, in fact, it is not really necessary.  But, for instance, when I put hand cream on (which I have to do since the end of 2008, at least from time to time) my immediate thought is that I want to go and wash my hands.  Which I don’t do, obviously, since it would negate the effects of the hand cream and, anyway, it was because of prolonged ‘wetness’ that they became like this in the first place.

I am sure I have many other annoying or funny habits.

F has, for me, very peculiar (but quite beautiful) feet.  If I say they are similar to the Hobbits feet from the Lord of the Rings films – but less hairy – that would give you the wrong impression.  But, in some way, they are.  Not large like Hobbits feet, nor, as I have said, hairy but he really has no ‘little toe’.  I mean to say he DOES have a little toe it’s just that it’s not so little.  In fact it looks the same as the other toes and almost as big.

But there’s a thing about his feet.  When I move my toes, including the big one, they all move together.  they are not like fingers.  What F can do and does subconsciously, I am sure, is move them individually.

And so, in bed, if his feet are pressed against my leg or feet and he is semi-conscious (i.e. as he’s waking up), he will (and this is the only way I can really describe it) drum his toes against my leg/foot.

And, like almost everything about him, I love it.  It’s a peculiar thing to him (as far as I am aware although readers may put me straight on that, I suppose) and, so, ‘special’.  And, every time it happens, I like it and think of his feet and feel safe and warm and comfortable.

Thank goodness he doesn’t actually read this blog!

Hair today………….. ; All change; Doubly dippy

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“I’ve just got to clean my teeth and do my hair”, I say.  He is lying under the covers.  I have just brought him a cup of coffee having been out with the dogs and drunk mine and now about to get dressed to go to work.

And, to prove he is not as asleep as he would have me believe he comes out with ‘which hairs?’

Now, I know I don’t have much hair on my chest and, unfortunately, my hair is thinning on top but…..
‘Bastard’ is my response.  He laughs.

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The wardrobe came last week.  It has mirrors.  It is big.  It is fabulous.  Not all clothes are sorted yet but they will be.  Soon.  The bedroom already looks much tidier and less ‘dirty’.

There are many things to put away and they will be done, mostly this weekend.

And I took the opportunity to have a bit of a move around.

So the TV was moved to the bedroom.  This has pleased F no end.  The night before last, as I hadn’t yet got a long enough cable for the aerial, we watched a video – during which he fell asleep.  Last night, having got the aerial and a digital decoder (as V couldn’t be bothered to find the remote for the one he eventually gave me back) and F having tried to sort out the getting of channels, we watched TV.  F is happy, there is no doubt.

The desk I have moved to where I thought I would have put the Dining Table.  On it is the computer.  Being an iMac, it is easy to move having only the power cable to worry about, the keyboard and mouse fitting snugly under the screen/computer to enable carrying.

I don’t think I like it where it is.  The table/desk, I mean.

I go back to my original idea of having the table near the window.  I think it will be better there.

A agrees.  He was round on Sunday making all sorts of suggestions as to how it should be changed.  It was nice of him but it’s not really for me.  And, anyway, he didn’t really understand that I wanted F to come up with ideas – it would make him feel more at home in the same way that the telly is now in the bedroom.

It all makes me sound rather wicked, perhaps?  But it isn’t meant to be that way.

So, undoubtedly, the table will be moved.  Maybe, even, this weekend, we shall see.

That means moving the ceiling light or, as A suggested, getting a cord by which to hang it across the ceiling.  Then there’s moving the other things around and, hopefully ending up with an acceptable living room/dining room.

Then all I shall need to complete it is a proper dining table and we’re done!

But I shall ask F, when we have time.  I would prefer if he were ‘involved’.

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Finally, I’m pleased for all you UK readers to learn that the UK is out of recession.  You must all be very pleased

Of course, here, in Italy, Buzz Lightyear was saying that Italy and the Italians wouldn’t be affected (oh, yes, apart from those businesses that went out of business and the people who lost their jobs).

I do worry that, for the UK, the house prices are still far too high and wonder how long it will be before ‘double-dip’ is added to the word recession by the UK media.

I hope I’m wrong.

Proof. I’m sure of it.

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Google’s announcement made a big splash across China. On the day, many net users voiced their support for the company and some even demonstrated in front of the company’s headquarters. Local people were showing their respect for a company that will finally apply its global motto “Don’t Be Evil” to China, treating it the same as other markets. I am sure traffic on Google.cn doubled, if not tripled, on that day as Google removed the content filtering. This proves how eager Chinese users are for an unfiltered internet environment.

I’m not sure that Google are all that wonderful.  After all, they did agree to a form of censorship in the beginning and there was a lot of criticism at the time, I seem to remember.  So now that they’ve decided they don’t want to do it any more, how does that make them something great?  Something great would have been to not have agreed to it in the first place.  Although, being as cynical as I am, it would not have grabbed headlines for so long.

However, that’s not why I have posted this quote from here.  No, the reason is that I was shocked to read that it is now ‘proved’ that the Chinese are eager for unfiltered access.

What proves it? You may well ask.  Well, apparently, it’s the doubling (or, even, tripling) of traffic on Google on the day they removed the filtering.

I say ‘apparently’ because, in fact, it is not a fact.  However, the author is ‘sure’ this is the case.

I am sure that I am the most handsome man, ever.  Therefore this proves that I am.  Aren’t I just lucky?  (It’s OK, there’s no need to comment, folks!)

Streets paved with…….what?????; Ironing what?????

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It’s cold.  We’re all wearing thick coats and hats.  Mind you, there’s not that many people around.  I guess, partly, because it’s still lunchtime.

I’ve had my hair cut and am walking to the cigarette shop.  I go down the street with the fantastic Art Noveau buildings – something to be seen in Milan, one of which is pictured at the top of my blog.

I’m following this guy, rather rotund, wearing one of those hats with the fur flaps that come down to cover the ears – like a deerstalker a bit but I don’t remember the proper name.

He didn’t look like one of the homeless guys. I mean he was only carrying one plastic bag which looked like it only had a couple of things, at most, in it.  But his next action was quite surprising.

He suddenly stops, looking at something on the ground, then stoops and picks it up.

Not as you might think, a coin or something that might be of either value or interest.

No, he picks up a comb.  An ordinary black, plastic comb. On the street. Probably used.

Puts it in his pocket and continues to walk on and around the next corner.  As I am going straight on, I turn slightly to glimpse someone who is probably around 60, grey beard, not untidy chap.

What a strange thing to do, I thought.

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F has changed me in many ways.  Or, rather, I do some things now that I would never have done in the past.  One of these is ironing sheets  For me, what was crucial was that they were clean.  Now, yesterday, because my bloody cleaner is so slow I find that all the clean sheets are still to be ironed.

So, as a couple of weeks ago, F, who had been really busy was so apologetic about the fact that he had had no time to iron the sheets, I ironed sheets.  Never really saw the point of it myself.  I mean, you put them on the bed and by the end of the first night they are never perfect.  So why bother?

Yet here I am, ironing sheets.

OK, so I admit that they are better having been ironed.  But still.  As someone who loathes ironing, this was really going over the top!

Bah!

Hang on, my jewelry is escaping…….!

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I’m sorry but this is a little disconcerting for me.

Pets are one thing.  I don’t really like the idea of dogs with coats, cats that aren’t allowed out of the house, etc.  But……..

Encrusting your pet beetle (?) with jewels and then wearing it as a brooch?  Now that they’re stopping the docking of dogs tails and the slicing of their ears, I would have thought that this, too, would be considered wrong.

I can understand a pet beetle, kept in a tank and in an environment that, at least, can be made similar to the real one – but on your jumper, pinned as some sort of jewellery and, even worse, encrusted with jewels?

The world has gone mad.

On being putty

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‘Can you do me a favour?’

Well, that’s more or less what he said.

This is, after all, quite a difficult period for him.  Working 12 hours or more per day with, maybe, one day off a week.  It’s the same every year.  Well, that’s not quite right.  This year they have planned to have one day off per week.  Whether that will actually happen is another thing and depends on customers respecting the fact that Saturday is not a show day.  We (or, rather, they) shall see.

He’s lying in the bath.  I’m standing just inside the bathroom, trying hard not to be too obvious at looking at him.  I do point out that he doesn’t have so many grey hairs on his chest (I’m trying to make sure he doesn’t shave his chest come summer).  He replies that it’s because it’s wet there doesn’t seem so many.  Still, I have a few months to work on this :-D.  I still can’t help staring.  It’s embarrassing.  I just can’t tear my eyes away.  From his chest, his stomach………….well, all the parts that are, generally not available to view.  I want to crouch down besides the bath and stoke and caress and…… who knows?

But I don’t.

‘I’m going to Florence tomorrow’, he says.  It’s just for the day.  He should be home at 9.30 or 10.30 or so.  In any event, he will be late.  Well, later even than usual for this period.  He’s doing stuff for some show they have there.

Then he asked about the favour.

Would I mind coming up tomorrow night to stay at S’s flat.  Of course not, although I had thought about staying at mine, alone.  But it makes me feel a bit guilty and it’s the first time he’s asked so directly.  It’s because he will be home so late.  And, then, tomorrow, he will be back in the showroom and wearing different clothes and staying at mine just makes it all that more difficult.

So, even if my plan was to stay at mine I say that I would come to him.  Secretly, of course, I am delighted that he asked and that he wants me with him.

I leave the bathroom but not because I want to.  A few minutes later he calls to me to hand him the towel.  I want to rub him dry but I don’t.

Later, as we lie in bed, watching the telly, he touches me more in the way that I usually touch him.  Stroking and caressing.  It’s important for me as he doesn’t normally do this.  It thrills me in that it makes me feel really wanted.  I say nothing.  And, of course, it doesn’t last so long.  I am, apparently, too hot, even if I don’t feel so warm.

But still, it makes me feel that he does really want me there and that, given the time at work and the new flat and stuff, he does feel some support from me.

And terrible as it might sound, part of the reason for me planning to stay at mine was that he would be able to miss me.  But now I can’t.  Now he’s asked if I can do him this favour.  This small thing to make him happy.  Now, although I want to know that he misses me and I want him to know that he misses me, I just can’t do that to him.  He asked, after all.

I wonder if he has any idea that he only has to push the right buttons and I would be putty in his hands.

Late last night………………..

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…………….it came to me as I was lying there, in the dark and the heat, unable to sleep.

I had been asleep.  We had ‘made love’ earlier, in spite of us both being tired.  And it was good and he makes me feel good.  After, we lay on our sides, me with my back to him, he cuddling me – ‘spooning’ as it is called.  He likes that and it suits me fine.  I must have fallen asleep.

I wake up.  Suddenly.  Unexpectedly.  I don’t know why.  I know it is not just before the alarm but I am, almost, wide awake.  I turn over.  He is lying on his back.  I don’t put my arm across him both for his sake and mine.  I am too hot, half of me outside the bedclothes already.

He does the pfffff sound that Italians make.  It is peculiar to them.  They make it, it seems, to express displeasure or annoyance or exasperation at something.

I ask if he is OK.  He says he can’t sleep.  I ask if he has been awake all the time and he says yes.  I think (but do not say) that it is he who, probably, woke me up.  I turn over so as not to succumb to the urge to put my arm around him to say ‘everything is alright’.  I know the sound of the pfffff.  I know what that means.  He asks what time it is (as I have just looked).  I say it is a quarter to twelve.  He makes the pffff sound again.

He asks if we should go for a cigarette.  I say yes as I am not close to sleeping and, anyway, I quite like the idea of a glass of milk.  I get up.  He changes his mind and says he’s not coming.  That’s OK.

I have my milk and cigarette, taking my time, cooling down and hoping that, when I get back to bed, I will feel much better – more like sleep.  It is not a quarter to twelve.  I realised that as I was getting up.  Anyway, it cannot be a quarter to twelve.  We only switched the light off at 11.30 something and then we had sex.  No, it was a quarter to one.

I creep back to bed.  I am still too hot.  I burn, as normal.  His flat (well, S’s flat) is too hot.  He keeps the heat on overnight.  It’s a nice idea but with my metabolism, it plays havoc.  I lie as still as possible, not wanting to wake him if he is on the verge of sleep.  But you know how it is.  When you need to be quiet you feel the urge to cough, or scratch, or sneeze or move because it’s uncomfortable.  Even your breathing seems as loud as an express train going full belt.  I do all these things, except the sneezing.  We touch legs.  We both need that; some physical touch but just not too much.  We both suffer in the same way although I am, generally, hotter than him.  He didn’t know anyone could be as bad, let alone worse!

I turn over to face him.  His knee, crooked up, fine whilst my back is towards him, not so fine when I’m facing him.  I still cannot sleep.  I open my eyes and look at his face.  The dark not so total that I can’t see anything but, still, I see no detail.  But I know what it looks like.  I smile anyway.  I’m tired, exhausted really, but happy with this, with what I have, with what we have.  I try to figure out if his eyes are closed but I just can’t tell.  Not in this light.

Or, rather, lack of light.

I turn again.  and that’s when it suddenly comes to me about these life-changing moments.  And, for just a split second I wonder what they are.  Then I think of the camp.

I also think about the time when I promised to marry someone.  Her name was Gilly.  Gilly Gaskell or Gaskill or something like that.  I remember, holding hands in the garden.  Her garden, the bottom of the garden.  I remember it as if I am watching it on a film – I’m not there but here, behind the camera, watching – but I can’t see my features but I remember her hair.  Blonde.  The fringe tied back with a clip.  I promised her that I would marry her.

It should have been one of those life-changing moments/events.  But it’s not.  Nor was it then.

We were five.

Last Night and Today

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The alarm clock goes off.

As I wake from my very deep slumber I briefly consider the idea of not going to work until later, if at all.  I reach for the phone and select the ‘snooze for 5 minutes’ option.  That always works, me never being able to get to sleep again because I’m constantly thinking things like ‘did I hit the snooze but or have I switched it off?’ – often meaning that I wake myself up again before it goes off a second time and get up.

I want to turn over and snuggle up to F.  I think, for the second time during my time in bed, that I really wish he were here so that I could do that.  But he’s not here and I’m not there and, like last night when I wanted him for warmth (but also because I don’t like being apart from him) I think about how, perhaps, I should have made the effort to have gone up.

But the last couple of nights have been ‘bad’ nights.  I am immensely tired.  I do sleep to be woken again by the alarm.  This time I get up.

I start to pull on my clothes.  Rufus is there wanting attention but Dino is not, safely secured in the kitchen following last night’s small disaster.  I think how nice it is not to have to shout at them; Rufus being so less boisterous now and Dino not being there to be over-excited.  I get up and go and get my glasses from beside the computer.

I go to the hall and put my scarf and hat and gloves on then let Dino out who, like some crazed Tasmanian Devil spins and jumps and twists around.  But he’s been a good boy and so I show him that he’s OK.  Then realise I should have put my coat on and got more ready before I let him out.

As we’re walking up the street I realise I am still more than half asleep.  I forgot to put the coffee on!  Ah well, it doesn’t matter.  Perhaps I shall have a shave before coffee?  Maybe a shower too?

The ground is wet but it’s only spitting rain now.  Thank goodness.  However, the dog walking areas, still not recovered from the rain the other day, remain wet and waterlogged.  I consider not letting them into the areas and then decide to anyway.  The cleaner guy comes today.

I put the coffee on when we get home, having the flame much higher than normal.  I need this coffee.  I do the milk and then go and sort out their water and collect the bowls for the food.  I measure in the milk and find that whilst I have been doing all the other things, the coffee is nearly done.

I take my coffee to the computer.  I sit at the computer for about 20 minutes, drinking my coffee, Dino asleep by my side, wary of the nicking of stuff on the footstool now….perhaps?  I hope so, for his sake and mine.

I write this post which goes nowhere between a rather hectic day with telephone calls and work interrupting; by now, forgetting entirely why I even started this.  Except that I am tired and I really miss F and I want to be with him tonight, even if, at the same time, I really want to be asleep.

Today, this day, I just can’t wait for work to be finished and to be at home.  I wonder if F, who is at the shop today or, at least, was this morning, will be home late or early?  I hope early.

And now I remember the reason for writing this and the reason I am so tired.  I was out last night.  It was to meet FfC’s Mum.  FfI was there and so was V.  F wasn’t there because he is so busy and couldn’t be there.

It was a Chinese restaurant.  I’m sorry if you were one of the attendees but, apart from the Duck with Orange (whole orange segments that were particularly juicy) it was mediocre at best.  And I don’t like Sushi to be bigger than my mouth.  It’s supposed to be food that you can put in your mouth in one go – as far as I am concerned.  And the sauces were too glutinous and the taste not fine enough and the service was crap and THIS is why Italians are wary of Chinese food (although you wouldn’t think so by the fact that the place was full) and I really don’t blame them.  And it cost over €40 per head.

And I looked at V and knew it was done.  He looked older and like he needed some rest.  I guess I do too.  And, now, his ways seem far less endearing than I remember, even if they are the same.

But, at least I wasn’t let down by either person and, for that, I am pleased.  But I didn’t get home until midnight and then I had to walk the dogs and couldn’t have driven to F’s place and so I phoned F on my way home and said how sorry I was but that I really couldn’t come over tonight as I couldn’t drive (too much to drink) and that I couldn’t walk there (too long) and so I would just stay at mine – if he didn’t mind.  Which he said he didn’t.

And that’s why I wrote this post although now, at the end of the working day, I lack the enthusiasm to write it properly and fully and tell you the thoughts that went through my head last night.

But, basically that was last night and today.

Today is a bad day – maybe it’s because it’s Tuesday?

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I really hate this bit.  The long, loooooong drag from Christmas/New Year until we start seeing the light and the weather gets to be bearable.

From September, it seems, there is the rush of getting everything done before Christmas; as if not getting it done will mean anything significant.  And then there is Christmas and New Year, here, extended until the 6th January – a long and (for a holiday) pointless time (not the Christmas Day itself, of course, which has significance) – the weather too bad and cold to make things enjoyable, the snow almost inevitably over and done with before Christmas Day itself – only to come back with a vengeance sometime when you think it might be getting better; the days too short (in terms of light) meaning that things like walking the dogs has to be done early and ‘gets in the way’ of other things.

The bright spots being that Milan is quiet and that, at least it is a holiday.

But now, now that we are back, and four days into the ‘new term’, so to speak – oh this is the worst.

The weather is still too cold and bleak and wet or snowy; making the daily drive anything but a pleasure; the days seem to get shorter even if they are not; there is no ‘light’ to look forward to (at least not for three months or so, depending on when Easter falls).

There is a bleakness to it, a sadness to the threads picked up from the things that were (or weren’t) finished before Christmas – everything the same and yet with nothing to look forward to – or, at least, nothing soon enough.

And worse than all that, you know that there will be more (and possibly worse) bad weather and gloom on the way.

I ache for the time when I can discard the three or four layers of clothing; when the chance of rain is diminished; when I can take the dogs out in the morning and the evening and there is still daylight; when it is warm enough that smoking doesn’t cause you to be shivering outside, even with the layers of clothes.

Everyone is expecting more snow.  The forecast that I use says it will rain but not snow.  I am glad but the rain is still miserable.  The dogs get dirty and the flat is impossible to keep clean now.  Dino seems to have gone into a chewing phase – well, chewing and eating everything.  I could kill him sometimes – but, of course, I couldn’t really.  But I can shout at him.  That’s something I suppose.

Rufus deteriorates, week by week, pulling himself back sometimes so that you think there’s nothing wrong with him.  But it’s only a matter of time, I know.  Ah well, such is life!  And he has lived a long life for the breed and for being a city dog for the last five years or so.

The answer to the Final Question is halfway to being complete – but it should have all been done and dusted before Christmas and the fact that it is only half-way irritates me.  But, again, such is life.  And I have this sinking feeling that the whole thing is not really over yet – like there’s going to be more shock, disappointment, inconsiderateness, etc.  It’s what I expect.  I want to expect better but, if I’m honest, THIS is much more like reality – this let-down.

OK, so this is NOT a good day but I shall bounce back tonight when there is a meal with friends.  Well, I hope to be bouncing back but I shall be annoyed if there is let-down again – and by two people, not just one!

And, although I really want to go back to find F there, I know he won’t be and I know I won’t feel like the trek up to his place and so, for the first night in weeks (or is it months?), we shall sleep alone and I don’t really like that a lot.  Not now.

Yes, today is a bad day – maybe it’s because it’s Tuesday?