Category Archives: Piero

Reading, the last of summer and more eating!

Posted on by
Reply

It’s the first weekend in October.

I’m in a T-shirt and shorts. In the sun, it’s really too hot for even a T-shirt. Out of the sun, a T-shirt is necessary. A jacket or jumper is necessary in the evenings and the mornings. Summer is making a last gasp, but failing to assert itself.

I sit in the garden. F had gone to his cousin first thing this morning. I took the dogs for a walk. F kept texting me.

“Where are you?” “Are you going to the beach?”

I tell him where I am and I say “I don’t know” to the beach question. Several times.

When I arrive back at the house I decide not to go to the beach. Although I don’t tell him, it’s because he isn’t there, with me. I will do what I normally do, given half a chance. Avoid people. Avoid making an effort. I tell him that I’ve decided not to go to the beach because all I would do is read my books and, by staying in the garden, I get the sun, read my books and stay with the dogs for a bit. That last one would excuse me, I know.

I finish Dolan Morgan’s excellent collection of short stories – That’s When The Knives Come Down. Some great stories. Almost a kind of Science Fiction/Fantasy (but don’t let that put you off because they weren’t really – it’s just the only way I could tag them) with some weird ideas. I would say the general theme was nothing or, rather, a lack of something/someone which is not quite the same as nothing.

Then I started Gone Girl. The film is out now and the book was a best seller. So I bought it, when we were in the UK, because the films sounds great. I’ve read a few chapters. It said, on the cover, that you “wouldn’t be able to put it down” which I can’t (so far) quite agree with.

So, for about 4 hours, in the garden, moving from time to time to stay in the sun. Very relaxing and nice. Of course, there was nothing really in the house to eat. Eventually, I found some Pringles – which had already been opened sometime in the summer, when we were down, and were also past their sell-by date. They were quite soft and horrible.

Of course, I could have gone to some café or something. But I couldn’t be bothered. Eventually, F asked if I wanted to come with them to the cemetery and then go for a walk with them. I said “yes” but, afterwards, I wish I’d said “no”. But that was just the lazy me talking.

We went to the cemetery (see previous post) and then on to a small village on the sea. It was a nice afternoon.

Then we went to his Mum and Dad’s for dinner. He told them that I hadn’t eaten anything which meant they could try and force me to eat, to their great delight. But I could eat quite a lot, actually, and we left there, both full.

Then we went to a friend of F’s birthday party where I met a guy who was Australian (born and brought up there until he was about 11)/Italian. He was an artist (painter) and played in a band. Interesting guy. He paints (now) clothes with people missing, in oils, in black and white (and shades of grey, of course.) His band plays electronic music, in costumes with two ballerinas and the singer changes his costume a number of times. I couldn’t help think about the Smurfs, or Frank. They haven’t had any hits, which didn’t really surprise me. Anyway, it was quite a nice evening all round.

And, for me, quite relaxing.

Piero goes viral. Maybe ……

Posted on by
Reply

Of course, he won’t look the way she wants.

She’s crouched down besides him but she wants him to face the other way, towards the camera on the phone.

Her friend decides to go the other side and she awkwardly turns round to face the camera. The picture is taken. They thank me. I see now that there are four of them; early twenties I would say; tourists, for sure; probably from Japan and this would be their first trip to Europe.

I guess, afterwards, that they haven’t seen this type of dog in whatever country they’re from.

I was coming out from the dog area, yesterday morning. One of the girls asked, “Can we take a picture of your dog, please?”

Of course, I agreed. It doesn’t cost me anything except a couple of minutes of time. However, what they really wanted, to add to their million photos of their “trip to Europe”, was a picture of one of them WITH the dog. These are the same people who like “Hello Kitty” which, I think, says it all.

Again, afterwards, I think it’s strange that they didn’t ask for the breed of dog. After all, when they show their friends or post it on Instagram or Facebook or somewhere, the only title it can have is “This is a picture of me with an unknown, pretty dog”.

So, now Piero is being seen (or will be seen) somewhere like Japan as ‘one of the pictures of Italy’. Maybe, one of these days, the picture will pop up on my Facebook or Twitter feed? That would be quite funny.

People are quite strange, really. The Japanese, with their insatiable desire to photograph E V E R Y T H I N G – are even stranger!

Mantova

Posted on by
2

Mantova. 6th September.

I wake up, first, at about 4 a.m. The dogs seem excited and are ready to go for a walk. I try to get back to sleep. It must have been after 5 before I managed to doze off again. The alarm re-awakens me just before 5.30. I hit the snooze button a couple of times before getting up to take them out.

This the “normal” time to get up but, what isn’t normal, is that I went to bed after 1 a.m.

But, it’s not a work day, it’s a Saturday and, what’s more, I’m off to Mantova, for the festival. Sadly, without F. And, just sadly as the “background stuff” remains.

I get the leads and we leave the flat. As we exit, I see some bastard has called both lifts. I wait for one to become free and call it. It’s the slower one. Oh, well. As we’re waiting for the lift to arrive, the other one arrives on our floor! Since there are only 2 flats on our floor, this has to be our next door neighbour! And so it is. He’s obviously returning from his night out. Oh to be young!

He’s mid-twenties, I guess. And, it seems, he likes dogs, which is excellent. As he asks, I introduce the dogs to him as he strokes them.

I realise afterwards, that, although he now knows the dogs, we both failed to introduce ourselves! And, I guess, if he has the habit of coming in at this time, we may not see him so often!

The streets are almost deserted. There’s the newspaper stalls opening up, a few people going to work and a few, like our neighbour, returning home. We go for a longer walk than normal – I won’t be back until late and I’ve allowed extra time, as I do when using public transport.

Back at home, I make coffee and message F. He messages back. He’s on his way to the hospital, so he phones me and we chat about things. I tell him I’m not staying overnight this time. He says that he’ll definitely come next year and I realise that he understands it’s important to me.

I go to get the tram for the station and nearly miss one but the driver kindly waits for me.

And so now I am on the train, on my way. I’m thinking that some beers are in order, maybe (one of the reasons for taking the train, after all :-))

Tea and coffee make a house into a home. Apparently!

Posted on by
Reply

F decides that he will be at home when I get home from work. He is going to go to Carrara. I told him that he didn’t need to wait but he wants to. I know he’s worried. There has been a bit of anger; a few tears. The problem with waiting for me is that he will hit the rush-hour traffic. But I’m not going to give him hassle. He doesn’t need any from me.

When I arrive, he’s there but he was late home and so is still packing. I have an appointment later and need to take the dogs out but I wait. After all, he waited for me. The kitchen has been finished. Of course, that means we can use the brand new dishwasher, the washing machine, etc. This is great news and I start to read the instructions for the dishwasher as I’ve never had one before. Apparently I need salt! 1Kg!! Damn! I don’t have it. It means I can’t start washing all the dishes, cups, etc.

He leaves. It seems he will be back sometime on Sunday, probably, unless something happens whilst he’s down there. His plane to Spain is on Monday. At least I will get to see him a bit.

As soon as he leaves, I prepare to take the dogs out.

Whilst out with them, I remember a small shop. This shop is a real blast from the past. It is run by an old couple who, by the looks of them, should have retired about 20 years ago. But they’re ‘hanging on’ in this supermarket age. The shop is full of stuff you might get from the supermarket – except fresh fruit, vegetables and meat. It’s the sort of shop my grandmother ran. I went to buy some milk and water from there once and, inside, they have some old cabinets that, it was explained to me at length, keep the milk at the perfect temperature. This time I am in a hurry as my visitor arrives in half an hour.

But this is NOT a supermarket. This is a place where regular customers come and chat. This is old-style shopping. This is not impersonal. He had been sitting outside chatting to a guy (more or less his age) when I arrived with the dogs. He gets up and tells me to go in (I am hesitant because I have two dogs). I ask if he has salt. Yes, he does. We go into the shop – but he doesn’t follow us for he is in conversation with the guy. He says he will be in “soon”. After a few minutes he comes in. He explains that he was having a chat with his friend. He likes the dogs. “Everyone who likes dogs is a good person,” he says.

I get 2 Kgs of salt. After all, if it uses 1 Kg now, for sure we shall need more. Plus, I’ve noticed, the water in the flat is very hard, worse than I’ve ever known.

This type of shopping takes time. Time is something I don’t really have but, I guess, it’s still quicker than going to the supermarket. Anyway, I feel somewhat obliged to use these types of shops. “Use them or lose them”, so the saying goes. I’m amazed this shop continues, to be honest but I like the idea of it, so I’m quite keen to use them from time to time.

We get home. I start to read the instructions and fill the dishwasher with the salt. I then “set” the hardness of the water. I set it to 5. The highest is 6. Maybe this will be enough?

But, now I have no time to load the machine. The kettle boils but there are no clean cups. It is only too late that I realise I also have a sink, so I could have washed a cup without the dishwasher. It’s been so long since we’ve had a fully-functioning kitchen, I seem to have forgotten what to do! Well, I will have to wait until later before I have my tea.

When she’s gone, I go back to the kitchen. I boil the kettle and load the machine. I wash a cup and make my tea. Whilst the machine is doing the first load, I go back to my studio and drink the tea. It is heavenly. It is the first cup of tea that I’ve had in over a month! I’ve missed it so much!

Later, I prepare the coffee machine for coffee in the morning. And, this morning, I switch on the machine. I do the milk first. It seems to steam better than before! I go to run my bath (I don’t have a shower yet which I’ll explain another time). After my bath, I come back to the kitchen to do the coffee. Except it doesn’t seem to be working! It’s making all the right noises, it’s just that there’s no coffee dripping through into the cup! I look inside. The coffee is damp but not “wet” like it should be. I replace the coffee holder.

I suddenly realise that, after cleaning the coffee maker last night, I didn’t actually fill it up with water! The water was the key. I have coffee.

Later, as I’m on my way to work, I feel much, much better. The full mug of cappuccino makes such a difference. I feel awake and alive.

And I realise that now, with a functioning kitchen and tea and coffee, suddenly the flat feels much more like a real home. Which, from a logic point of view, seems quite strange.

There’s always something

Posted on by
4

I just read Lola’s blog and it reminded me about last night.

“There’s something wrong with Piero’s paw. Lift him on the table and look.”

I do so.

“He’s been licking it,” I am informed.

I don’t say it’s nothing to worry about or dogs are always licking something or let’s see if he continues to lick it, for these would be a waste of breath and time. No, the easiest and quickest thing is to look.

So I do. I carefully take the paw, examine and feel it all over, checking between the toes and underneath.

F spots a small tuft of matted hair and, not bothering to correct his assumptions (because he wouldn’t listen anyway) I let him cut it off with scissors.

“I’m sorry,” he says, meaning for bothering me or worrying me or something.

Which he didn’t but never mind.

What’s important is that he is satisfied there’s nothing there and nothing to worry about.

My “appropriate” reaction was all that was required to “fix” the situation.

G? Take note! ;-)

Patience?

Posted on by
2

“Look!” he says. I see the kitchen. It’s obviously not complete. Maybe they are coming back tomorrow?

During the next hour or so, we had, “I’ve had enough of this flat.”, “Cazzo!”, “Giorno di merda!”, etc.

Finished with, “You go on holiday because then I can fix everything in the flat. It will be easier.”

So, let’s analyse where everything went wrong, shall we? Remember that I had assumed that the gas man had NOT turned on the gas because of some problem with the installation and, as for the kitchen, I had no idea what had happened. Looking at it, as he had ordered, made me think that they had forgotten a part of it.

In reality, the following events took place:

1. When taking the dogs for a walk, Dino started rolling about in some grass. Now, I have experience of this. Dogs rolling in grass = trouble. Or, rather = smelly shit. In the countryside, this smelly shit was a cow pat or some fox excrement or something. Here, in the middle of the city, it has to be some other dog shit (I hope, if you see what I mean). F didn’t know this. He saw him rolling around and shouted “No” but, of course, it was all too late. He was, indeed, covered in shit. Apparently, horrible, smelly shit. He was washed under one of the water points we have everywhere and then had a bath at home.

2. The gas man arrived. The doorman downstairs told him to ring the citofono (outside doorbell). There is one slight problem in that the bell doesn’t ring in the flat. So, F didn’t know. The gas man thought it meant we weren’t home, of course. At about 9.30, F went down to see why he hadn’t arrived to be told by the doorman that he had already left and had left us a note saying that we weren’t there!

3. The kitchen and fitters came. They fitted the whole kitchen. We had had to pay for a surveyor to measure the kitchen space to ensure that the dimensions were right as some kitchen units had to be tailor-made. Unfortunately, it seems, someone couldn’t read dimensions properly and one unit was 5cm too short. So F rejected the unit. Also, unfortunately, the said unit has to be fitted with another (it’s a corner unit) and the other, in this case, houses the sink and dishwasher. So they can’t be plumbed in. Hmmmm.

So that was that. F was, to put it mildly, crazy.

I also tried to fix the washing machine, which seemed to be leaking. I thought I had fixed it and started a(n empty) wash.

“Are you going to take the dogs out or shall I?”

To be honest, this wasn’t really a question. The wrong answer would have been “No, you do it.” The right answer was “I’ll take them out.” I’m not stupid. I gave the right answer. Unfortunately, that meant leaving the washing machine mid-wash. Ah, well, I thought, it seems not to be leaking. I took them out.

I came back to, “I’ve turned off the washing machine because water was coming out like a fountain!”

“At what point in the cycle did it start coming out?” I asked. A rather huffy reply of “I don’t know!” was received, so I didn’t ask further.

About 10 minutes later, from the kitchen I heard shouting (this means I must attend, of course). The shouting turned out to be an explanation of where the water was actually coming out. It wasn’t the washing machine at all but the opposite wall in the kitchen, under what is now a unit with the sink. It seems that the outlet for the waste water from the washing machine is connected to the sink outlet and, as the sink is not connected to anything, some of the water was coming out of there!

Well, at least I know now.

This weekend, I might try a dirty fix.

In the meantime, on the plus side, we have many units in the kitchen to put stuff away and get rid of the boxes.

On the downside, we still have no hot water, no useable kitchen or cooker and the kitchen will still be a bit messy.

On the other plus side, we received the sofas, armchair and dining chairs back (just now) and F is very happy with them. I mean, really happy.

“We could have bought a new suite for the same money,” he always adds. I guess pointing out that a suite that’s 30 years old but is still as if it was new, every time, is just a waste of my time. However, I still do it as it’s still a valid point.

And, apparently, hot water will be available from Tuesday morning – although me and the dogs may be in Tuscany by then. We shall see.

Last night we were out with friends for a meal. They’re F’s friends really. One of them said that I must have real patience to stay with him. Wisely, I didn’t answer.

Well, onwards and upwards, as they say.

Listening – it’s bloody hard sometimes.

Posted on by
Reply

Most of the time, I bite my tongue.

After all, if he wasn’t listening two seconds ago, he won’t be listening now, will he?

We’re talking about things that need to be done. He is going to be there for the Fastweb engineer on Thursday. I want to ask the engineer if he can put a wire from wherever the box goes, through to my studio for my computer. This may be something that he does for cash and, given that we’re in Italy and the wages are so low here, the chances that he will do it are high.

“it will be better,” he says, “as he can do any drilling through the walls before we move all the stuff in.”

I agree. I add, “And I can sort out the connection from my PC to the television before we move, too.”

“That’s not important. It can be done afterwards. It’s more important to find someone to run a pipe from the gas point to the place we want it in the kitchen.”

Well, yes, I know that. after all, without a kitchen, we can’t really move in.

“You’ve got different priorities than me,” he adds.

Well, actually no, I haven’t. The kitchen is the number one priority. The extension for the cooker was given to you to sort out, since you speak Italian and the chances of the plumber speaking English is far less than some technical thing that I should do.

He becomes tetchy because in his head, all I’m worried about is my PC.

“No, the kitchen has to be done before we move in,” I say, “but I also need my computer when we move because of the lessons.”

This, of course, carried no weight. He has already stopped listening to me, if he was even doing that at the beginning. He continues saying things about how our priorities are different and how I’m not concentrating on the right things, etc., etc. I don’t want you to get the wrong impression, I listen to the things he says but, since he’s not listening to me, it is better not to respond. I’ve learnt that much. I cannot argue my point because he misinterprets almost everything I say. I can’t explain. And, anyway, the difference in our languages makes everything more difficult. It’s one of the drawbacks, for certain.

I know that it is better just to let it lie. Although it is a bit frustrating. It means we can’t talk about the thingS we need to do, only the thing he is concentrating on at the moment.

I try to let it all wash over me, and, my strength of will makes it so. After all, it is only this moment and he doesn’t mean to do it. It’s not like it’s going to kill me.

He suggests about moving stuff over. I explain I don’t like doing it. He says he does. Again I get the “I’m not trying to tell you what to do” thing, even if, in reality, that’s EXACTLY what he’s trying to do.

It’s OK. He knows I’m quite stubborn and I’ll just do the things my way anyway.

It is extremely hot. It’s already half nine or so, and it must be close to 30°. We talk about the dogs, as Dino, in particular, is struggling a bit in the heat. He’s going to get some sprayer thing so he can spray him with cool water from time to time. We can try. Anything is worth a try.

He then suggests that, soon, we can start going down to Carrara. Especially because it will be nicer for the dogs. He will have to work some weekends, one of which will be going to Paris. He suggests that I should go down with the dogs on those weekends. I say it will depend on what needs to be done but, secretly, I think I might. I miss the weekends in Carrara – the asparagus and lardo pizza on Friday; days spent on the beach with some books; eating at his Mum and Dad’s; the morning coffee and croissant at the bar overlooking the sea. Yes, I’ve missed those this year even if it’s been for a very good reason.

So, maybe we will go down.

As I’ve written this, I think about something I’ve read recently – listen without trying to form a response in your head at the same time. I must really try to do that. It’s difficult though, isn’t it?

The disappearance.

Posted on by
2

The door is locked.

The windows are open.

The bed is turned back for airing.

The bedroom rug and “dog sheet” are hanging on the balcony.

“Where is F?,” I say to them in an excited voice. They get very excited and go looking for him. Piero checks the bedroom, tail wagging. Dino checks the kitchen and the bathroom. The game is thus. F will be hiding behind the bathroom door and in a moment, he will say something in his “dogs tone” and they will get even more excited.

Except he doesn’t.

I go round to check. No, he’s not here.

I feel sorry for the dogs now. Perhaps he has just stepped out. His bag is gone, his phones have gone. There is one phone case still here, on my side of the bed, from where he was charging his phone before we went out last night.

Yes, he must have just stepped out.

And, yet …….

Something’s not quite right. Why would he just step out and not wait for me? What can have been that urgent? Should I wait for him?

After some minutes, and I have fed the dogs and they have settled down, I text.

I get a reply. He is at the gym. Ah, yes, of course. He was sleeping when I left him with them this morning. He is glad he woke up though as he had an appointment at the gym for his Pilates session.

And so this all changes the start of the day.

Because, by now, we would be going out for breakfast – and now we won’t be. The flat would normally be clean. And now it isn’t. The normal Saturday routine is not taking place and, if I’m honest, I don’t really like it so much. Tomorrow he will be working and so the normal Sunday routine won’t be happening either.

On the other hand, I can wake up (because, trust me, on a weekend, it takes several hours before I am fully awake) and feel quite good before I step out of the flat to go and do some errands.

And the weather is quite nice now – proper Spring weather, almost warm and mostly sunny.

And, as it’s so nice, I might even do breakfast at the local café (which I don’t normally do if he’s not with me – it’s not an English habit) and then run my errands. I might even clean a bit and, maybe, brush the dogs (taking great care of my back, of course).

And, then, this afternoon, we’ll (me and the dogs and F, if he will come) go to the big park so the dogs can have their weekend exercise and I’ll stop for a beer or something on the way back, sit outside and enjoy my life, as usual.

Move along, please. Nothing to see here.

Posted on by
4

Shhhhhhh!

It’s only a thought and not at all definite but ……………..

We went to see a flat last night. F had already seen it whilst I was at The Visit and was taken enough with it that he arranged for us to see it together, after work.

Of course, now that the clocks have gone forward, it is light when I get home and so possible to see things straight away rather than waiting until Saturday. It’s not far from the “Perfect street”, so very close to where I live now. The street is much quieter. The flat is much larger than our two flats together. The rooms are huge (well, not the kitchen but still big enough to fit a table) and there is the room for me to shut myself away (if we fit some doors to it – for some reason, apart from one bedroom, the bathrooms and the kitchen, doors have been removed!)

It needs us to fit a kitchen (a fairly normal thing here). We could find some old doors to put on my “studio”. It’s lovely and big and very light (F’s requirement) and has four balconies of various sizes (from quite small to quite large) – meaning plenty of spaces for the dogs.

It’s in a 1930s building – not the best I’ve seen but still nicer than something new. There’s a doorman/woman until 6.30 every evening (which means I don’t have to wait for parcels until Saturday) and, it will be cheaper than our two flats.

There’s just one thing – it’s on the 4th floor. The 4th floor is OK (it’s at the top of the trees in the road which is why it’s quite light) but it’s also a long way down when you look over the edge of the balconies.

Anyway, we’ve discussed pricing and offers and stuff and now F will do his stuff.

Oh, and it has another advantage – 3 months’ deposit but only 1 month’s rent in advance and then pay monthly – which does make everything much, much easier.

And, so we’ll see. But don’t say anything, just in case, eh?

A concert, the weather and the dreaded Visit.

Posted on by
Reply

Well, I managed to book for Kate Bush ….. eventually.

Not the date we wanted, nor, even, at a weekend but at least I got some. I saw her on her first (and only) tour back in 1979 (in Manchester) and I remember it quite well. It was an amazing concert. Obviously, this one won’t be so “energetic” but I imagine she’ll do a good show in any event.

I have been so busy of late. So much so that this weekend will be a relaxing weekend. The temperatures should be in the 20s (°C) and it should be sunny – so that means a walk with the dogs, at least.

Of course, there’s the nagging thing about “The Visit”. That hasn’t gone away. The list is quite long now, which is to be expected. Few people know about it, which is the best thing.

Of course, it’s unlikely to be just this one. I’m expecting some other “visits” will have to follow. It’s almost like I shall be “sucked into” this thing. Like getting stuck in whirlpool – going further and further down, getting completely caught up in rounds of “visits”. I’ve avoided all this, so far.

Other things are being “sorted” but much more needs to be done before everything is ready. Still, one thing at a time, eh?

Update: And, apparently, I was lucky to get any tickets!