Category Archives: Rufus

Rufus, an 11-year-old blue Bearded Collie. The best dog in the world. Gets his own area, being the dog he is….

Well, yes, actually he is; Non laid plans changed somewhat

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For which I am grateful even if, secretly, this time he could have been quite irresponsible and it would have been OK too.

Of course, we’ve only been together a year and a bit, so I don’t really understand him at all nor can I tell what he’s thinking. I can take some educated guesses now and then but that’s about all.

And then there is the fact that everything does not go according to plan. Not that I ever have a real plan, as such. Just a vague ‘wanting’ of something: something to happen; something to occur. But it’s only a ‘wanting’ or a ‘would like’ – it’s not like it’s set in stone. It has its advantages. I’m never really disappointed, for one thing.

Of course he was cute. He climbed up on his Mum’s back to sleep. We both wondered if Dino would permit that or, even like it. However, in the back of my mind was Rufus. And Dino. Two opposing things. On the one hand a) would it be fair on Rufus to have a rather annoying and demanding animal in the flat, b) what about if Rufus gets ‘ill’ again, like before, c) what if he keeps going for another 6 months whilst, on the other hand there is a) I don’t really want Dino to be ‘alone’, b) ……………..

Actually, there is no b) or c). See how the agins outweigh the fors? Hmmmm.

F suggested that, if Rufus does die then he can take Dino into his office a couple of times a week. Of course, that’s when he’s here ……. and not busy with a shop/shop window/showroom sales, etc.

Maybe it was the worry about how it would be if Rufus hangs on or is ill that meant that I didn’t really ‘connect’ with the puppy. Or maybe it was the price. It’s a lot. More than for Dino – but then we got Dino at a discount given that his teeth weren’t ‘quite right’ – and still aren’t. Since I don’t get a dog to show or breed, then, for me, it’s OK. Or, maybe it was because there are only two puppies and, normally, there is more choice and one of them stands out as being the one I want – like Dino did.

So, I am to phone them (F says) to explain that, should Rufus go in the meantime, we would have it but they are to sell it if they can. I am also to check if the main place are likely to have any more say, in September.

So although F was truly enamored with Piero (for it will either be him or it will be the next one), he was also really sensible and gave all the arguments above – even if I already had them going through my head. I like that he’s sensible – even if, as I said, this time he would have been forgiven if he had not been sensible.

Yesterday, F was working. And, since yesterday, Rufus has been staggering more than usual. And then, this morning, when I gave them food, he fell over …… again. And he lay there on the floor, a few inches from his bowl. I moved his bowl to where he lay and, after a few minutes, he continued to eat whilst still lying down. It’s OK, before you ask, he got up later. I’m trying not to help him up at the moment. That bit is to come. I don’t remember how quick it was last time. A month? A few months? No, I just don’t remember. It would be funny (the falling down bit) except that it isn’t.

And he lagged on our walk this morning. Unfortunately, I don’t have that much time for too much lagging. I guess, soon, the walk will have to be shorter.

I sigh as I write this. But, for those of you who have dogs (have had dogs), you’ll understand. Such is life.

So, the plans that were not made in the first place have changed a bit. There are now new plans that have also not been made that, if broken, will not be disappointing.

I took several photos only one of which is any good – and even that is not good. I wait for F to send me his photos and then I will post at least one – good or not. Be patient, please.

He’s sensible ……… isn’t he?

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Piero.

That will be the name, apparently.  His name, to be precise.  It’s always been this since the idea was first floated.  It could change, obviously, but I think that is unlikely.

Apparently, I don’t pronounce it correctly.  It should be said short and I stretch it out.  So I am told, by the women in Purchasing.

So, Piero.  I know, in my heart, that we shall want him as soon as we see him.  That’s why they are always (?) cute, isn’t it?

He is about 4 weeks old now.  We won’t get him until he is at least 8 weeks old.  It’s another month.  I keep wondering about Rufus.  And having three of them if Rufus is still going strong – or just still going, which is much more likely.

Although, right at the moment and for the last few days, Rufus is definitely much better.  I can tell by little things.  He now pulls on the lead sometimes whereas, normally, he is right by my side so that the collar doesn’t pull on his neck.  I imagine, without all the hair, that his neck would be scrawny and saggy, like an old man’s – like mine, a bit, I suppose.

If he were a man, he would have a zimmer frame by now.  Or, at least a walking stick.  But he’s not so he can’t so he does the staggering bit if he stands still for a few moments, unable to keep still and upright, his body ‘falling’ to one side and he having to correct himself – well, mostly.  Except occasionally when he falls to the floor with a crash.  Like the other day when he was eating.  I heard the sound and went round to find him sprawled on the floor – legs spread out.  Poor thing.

But he’s definitely a lot better. It’s a little worrying – the idea of having three of them. But, also, I know, it will be a few weeks afterwards before he can go outside. But three. Hmmm.

Still, I want him too. It will be better for Dino and, maybe, Dino will leave Rufus alone more.

All the thinking about it is irrelevant, really. At the sight of him, my heart will melt. I know that much. It will all depend on F, I suppose. But we won’t have the discussion that we should, I am sure. About the training required – about the things that must and must not happen – about the help I shall need. No, that won’t happen.

But, he’s sensible, right? Right? For in this situation, I can lose my common sense.

Probably, pictures to follow after Saturday afternoon. And are you doing anything just as fun and exciting as me for the weekend?

Next up ………. Dino sets up his own blog!

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Of course, I know that Dino howls when he hears an ambulance. I don’t need to be told that by the neighbours (even if I have been – it wasn’t a complaint so much as a comment that it’s the only way they knew the dogs were there, which is a nice kind of backhanded compliment).

Originally, not long after I got Dino, we did have complaints (in the old flat) that the dogs were barking. This was a surprise as my dogs, generally, do not bark. Eventually, we found out it was Rufus. He would do this when Dino had a toy or something and he wanted it. If Dino wanted it from Rufus he would just go and get it, Rufus growling and complaining but, in the end, letting him have it. Rufus, however, wouldn’t do that but, instead, would stand there and bark at Dino. So, I had to separate them. Now it’s not necessary with Rufus being so old and blind and deaf.

But I would like to know what they get up to when I’m not there. Do they play? Do they stay together? Do they just sleep most of the time?

There is an application on Facebook called Dogbook. I added them to this a few weeks ago. They have their own profile page and their ‘own friends’. I have also added F as ‘family’ (after checking with him, of course). They also have a ‘status’, just like normal Facebook. For Rufus it is ‘is sleeping’ and for Dino, ‘What can I lick next?’.

But, wouldn’t it be ‘fun’ if they could enter their own status? Rufus could go from ‘is sleeping’ to ‘is eating’ or ‘is sitting staring blankly at the walls’ (which is what he does, sometimes, now). Dino could be ‘walking around’ or ‘licking Rufus’ eyes’ or ‘playing with a toy’ or, even ‘howling at the ambulance’.

Well, it seems, they are almost there with the technology. I have found Puppy Tweet. Tweeting, of course, is publishing a small ‘story’ on Twitter. This would be the equivalent of the status on Facebook/Dogbook. Having seen the blurb somewhere I had to go see it for myself.

You can use your own Twitter account or a special one just for your dog. You can, within reason, set up how many tweets you get in a day. It says it monitors your pet by motion and then tweets a humourous tweet to the account via your computer.

I just love the idea. So funny. If any of you get one, you just have to let us know how it goes …….. please?

Update, May, 2015 I’ve just read the reviews on Amazon and, unfortunately, they’re NOT good. Would have been a great present.

Well, they’re fashion people of some sort, I suppose (but how would I know?)

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Well, I guess that I should be telling you about meeting some of the good and the great of the fashion industry.

Except that, apart from them all appearing to be very rich, I haven’t the faintest clue who they were. There were some fat men. There were some, ahem, ladies past their prime. There was a hat designer who came late, sporting a hat that (for those of you from the UK) would be best suited on some working class, washerwoman – a lot in the style of the wife of Andy Capp or, even, not unlike the way that Hilda Ogden used to be dressed on Coronation Street (but without the rollers in her hair).

Some woman, of a certain age (which was, actually, very uncertain – but O L D nonetheless), with a bright orange bouffant but very thinning hair-do and a very pale complexion caused either by her being very ill or by her applying a whitening mask to hide the liver spots, which, by the way, was unsuccessful, thought that the hat was wonderful. She is like Anna Wintour, apparently. Everyone had to agree with her even if they, secretly hated it (and, certainly, the few people around me DID hate it).

Some woman next to me kept jabbering at me in Italian. I understood some of it. We had a conversation …… of sorts. F says sorry to me for having to be somewhere where everyone is speaking Italian. I tell him not to worry and that, if it becomes a problem, I will tell him.

I was there, after all, not for my pleasure, exactly but to be introduced (or should it be ‘shown off’) to some friends of his.

“It will be very fashion”, he tells be beforehand. Everyone will be from the fashion world. Although, as it turned out, there was also C, Fi’s husband and he’s NOT fashion but a chef. These were the people with whom we were supposed to spend Christmas and New Year. Apparently, they had organised a special party for New Year, in F’s honour. He is their ‘jewel’, so I was told.

I am to like P, even if I don’t like her. She is part owner of a rather large business in Italy. She has a house in Venice. And a ‘Guest House’ nearby. This Guest House is lavish and huge, apparently. F wants to take me there. P says that she doesn’t like Venice apart from going there a couple of days every so often. I don’t say it but for me it is the most romantic city in the world. It beats Paris, hands down.

We are at a ‘chic’ restaurant. Ristorante da Gaspare. I won’t link to it as it would be unfair. I am led to believe it is expensive. We had some antipasto of shrimps and clams. Some pizze and foccia. And then the biggest branzino I’ve ever seen was wheeled to our table – then taken away to be served up in smaller dishes so that we could help ourselves.

I don’t know how much was paid but I think it was a lot. The branzino was wonderful – but I didn’t get much. Nor did most other people (except the fat bloke almost opposite me – which explains his fatness, I would think). A couple of people had sweets. I tried one. It wasn’t up to much. The rest of it I could take or leave, really.

The atmosphere was great – for the people we were with. The place itself lacked atmosphere being bright and more like a canteen. I’m sure the fish was very fresh but it wasn’t really anything special.

Fi and C were lovely. They bought presents – for us for Christmas – some stone dogs which, apparently, in Austria (or in one town/village in Austria anyway) people put outside their houses to warn people that they have a dog. It was sweet of them. There was one for me and one for F. F pointed out that, if we put them outside our front door they would be nicked. Fi hadn’t thought of that. There was also a special cake for F’s birthday. Bless them. They think the world of him, I can tell. I think I passed the test :-) I think they liked me.

They were all nice people, really. Even the small fat guy who, if I hadn’t been told he was married – with a grown-up son – I would have placed as being the most gay of all gay people at that table (there was only F and I). He wore, round his neck, a black scarf – no, more like a shawl – with beads round the edge. It was more feminine than all of the ladies at the table! His wife was lovely.

F told me that the lady wearing the Missoni dress was a journalist. Married to the old guy with the pin stripe at the other end of the table. I’m guessing he was ‘something’ in fashion. I was more amazed that it was a Missoni dress. It looked much like something you could pick up in a junk shop – something from the 70s. I didn’t say anything. F surprises me sometimes and he obviously has a great deal of knowledge about his industry – but doesn’t say anything to me, much.

Before the event, though, he did say that, as it was very ‘fashion’ I should dress accordingly. I dressed in my normal ‘smart’ way – as I would for any night out with friends, or, even him! I don’t know whether that was right or not. He doesn’t ever tell me and I don’t want to ask.

We are, apparently, to meet up for an evening out with P. She seems nice although with her head somewhere else half the time. Still, I don’t dislike her and she is a good friend of F’s – or maybe Fi’s – I’m not really sure.

Fi didn’t really stop talking. She is almost as bad as F’s sister! We are to go there in May or something, when the weather is better. And, probably, after Rufus has left us.

This morning I took F to the airport. He is away for 11 days. I can’t wait for him to be back ……. already!!!

p.s. below is a clip where Jennifer Saunders is wearing almost the same hat as I mentioned above – except hers is a dark colour and this one, the other night was bright pink! Enjoy the clip anyway, it is very funny.

French and Saunders version of The Exorcist!

F’s Birthday and stuff

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Well, further to my post below, Rufus seems much better. Ain’t it always the way? But I know better than to assume that he will remain this way for long.

Last night we went to Giacomo – it was F’s birthday. I had raw scampi to start (and some of F’s raw tuna) and branzino (sea bass) with artichokes as a main. F had the mixed raw fish to start and then a cooked tuna steak (he loves tuna and has it whenever he can). A nice bottle of wine, some mirto and then home.

This being a restaurant that is, as F would say, very fashion, there are the great and the good of Milan and many of the rich tourists or others who are here for business. In this case, there was a model who, apparently, used to work for Helmut Lang. However, I didn’t even recognise the name. Apparently, Giacomo has opened a new restaurant near Piazza Duomo, with views over the city. We are to go there for my birthday, I am advised :-).

Yesterday, I went to see FfC and go out for lunch. She is getting ready to return to work next week after months off whilst she had a baby. The baby is about 7 months old now. He is big. She suggested he looks like his father and asked me what I thought. As I’ve said before, babies, to me, just look like babies and not like either of the parents or anyone else for that matter. So that’s what I said.

Then, later, after we had been out for lunch, she was sitting on one of the sofas opposite me and the baby waved at me. Apparently they’ve been trying to get him to wave for a while so she was delighted that he had, finally, done it. She was going to phone R, the father, as soon as I had gone, to tell him.

She told me, during lunch, that she had, really, given up on the idea that she would become a mother and that was when she found herself pregnant. Maybe there’s a thing about trying too hard. We also spoke about FfI. FfI went back to her home country for Christmas and New Year. She planned to spend Christmas with her family and then New Year with her daughter who is in another part of the country. Her common line is ‘I hate Milan’, quickly followed by ‘I want to go back to my country’. I always thought – well, go then!

I email her to wish her a happy New Year. She emails me back to tell me that she cried every day (and that everyone except her one brother, she had fights with), she spent New Year’s Eve in a motel room all alone and that she was cold and miserable and couldn’t wait to get back to Milan. She also promised that she would never say that she hated Milan again. We shall see. To be honest, I feel sorry for her. What a dreadful way to spend Christmas and New Year! But FfC and I were talking (and we have much the same views on most things) and agreed that it’s really important to be ‘happy’ with what you have and where you are.

Milan may not be the most beautiful city in the world, nor with the best climate but it has charm and a character of it’s own. Without coming to Milan there are so many experiences that I simply would not have experienced, both good and bad, things that I would not have enjoyed and have made my life richer and more fulfilled as a result. Of course, the main thing is that I would not have met F and, for that, I would never want to change the past because it is the past that has led me here and to this point.

We also spoke (FfC and I) about V. She was quite disappointed when he didn’t turn up one evening because he was shopping for a new outfit for Christmas, after she had prepared food and everything – and he didn’t even text or phone but relied on FfI to tell her. It made me so grateful that I am no longer responsible, in any way, for him. I explained to her that my thinking on the reasons why he had, effectively, cut me off from his life was that (and I learned this from FfI) he had been telling the new boyfriend that ‘the breakup had left him with so much debt’. She was as incredulous as I had been. But it is his way and if I were too close, there would be questions from other people which would lead me to tell the truth and the truth would not be what he wanted others to hear. Ah well. At least, now, I can understand the reason even if it’s a poor one. I remember telling him, when there was the previous boyfriend – ‘don’t lie about stuff’. For lying always, at some point, bites you in the ass further down the line. But, with him, he always seems to get away with it. He is, as FfC says – always being ‘fabulous’. Fabulousness is all about show and does not necessarily have any substance. And it’s so true of him. I just hope that the fabulousness doesn’t wear off any time.

New Year’s stuff.

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New Year’s resolutions. Never believed in them myself and, so, I just don’t do them. To me, if you want to do something, then do it – don’t decide to make a list and then complete half of them or stop doing it before the end of January.

And, so, I have no resolutions. I have no things that I simply must do. I’m grateful for every day that I have and each one is the opportunity to do something new or different or just to live.

Today I have texted a few people to wish them a happy New Year and phoned one. For those of you who read this blog – then a very happy New Year to you.

Things that will/may happen in the New Year are as follows:

1. We shall go on holiday. F is already looking at places to go and he wants to book it now. It’s a thing I’ve never bothered about (booking in January) but if he wants to do it I really don’t mind. And the important thing is that a) he’s excited about it and b) it’s the future – together.

2. Rufus will depart this world. Bless him, he is just not well. He’s not in pain but so thin and ill so often now. But he is almost 16 years old! Amazing and I would never have believed he would get to this age.

3. We shall move in together. Actually, I really don’t know if that will happen at all. It’s really not a problem living as we do and I am very relaxed about it. I never thought it ‘wouldn’t matter’ but it really doesn’t matter.

4. I will get fat – if I don’t drink less beer and eat a little less food. Unfortunately, my age is against me on this and, so, if I don’t cut back the pounds will, not exactly pile on but, rather, slowly increase.

5. I will have to buy a new washing machine, iron and fridge. I’m not certain but I think all three are on their way out.

6. It will be a good year. Well, as I’m no fortune teller, I can’t really say that but, overall, every year has been a good year in one way or another even if I couldn’t see it at the time.

7. We shall get a new puppy. Well, obviously, that will be after 2 has happened.

8. I will find a new job; I will become very rich; I will become very famous; I will write a book. These are just pie-in-the-sky things but, who knows? Stranger things have happened. Or it may be none of these things but something else. I like the idea of the ‘unexpected’.

9. It will snow and make my investment in snow tyres worth it! Well, it better had do!

10. I will be very happy. And that’s a sure thing :-)

If you make resolutions, then good and I hope they all work out. If you don’t then I hope it all works out for you anyway.

New Year with people you don’t even know!

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Well, none of it was quite as expected. We didn’t exactly plan anything but we both had a rough idea as to what would happen, how things would go down. But none of that really happened.

And, yet, it was really most enjoyable. I mean both Christmas and the New Year. But let’s get on to New Year’s Eve.

So, P, my neighbour and her friend came round about 9. We suggested P bring her dogs so that they wouldn’t get frightened by the fireworks. I said we could give it a try. Her rescue dog is a mongrel but quite vicious. Always barking when she sees Rufus or Dino and actually attacking them. However, together, in the house they were fine and so busy concentrating on each other that they didn’t even notice the fireworks – which was a very good thing.

Dinner was good – plenty of wine and food and conversation (although mostly in Italian). F, at one point, mistakenly called me by the name of his ex, S. I found this really funny and it wasn’t a bad thing (although I know that most people won’t agree). I look at it this way – now he is relaxed with me and we are so much a ‘couple’ that we can, almost, be compared to his other long-term relationship, so that he is comfortable with it. And this is only after just over a year! Anyway, that’s how I see it.

Then we played burraco until about 1.30 in the morning. It was the first time they had played it so, apart from the last hand, we played open hands. However, it was nice and P’s friend especially enjoyed it. F decided that he wanted to clean up afterwards. I’m afraid this is not my thing really. Before they came round he spent about 2 hours cleaning my flat. He has even bought some cleaning stuff that he likes and uses. Bless him. Anyway, I took the dogs out and he started cleaning. When I cam back he told me that the sink was blocked. This is from the fat that we poured down the sink from the zampone. Damn! I had forgotten what it was like. It was the same last year except that, last year, we had only just got together and so I did all this on my own (the next day, obviously).

And so, about 2 a.m. I am dismantling the pipes under the sink. Of course, I was not at my best at that moment and completely forgot how much water the two sinks hold. Although I had a bucket to catch the water, one was not enough and so there was water all over the kitchen! And then we had to clean that first before F could continue with the washing-up! He was really angry about it all whereas I was just laid back about it – like I am. I mean to say, there was nothing we could do about it except clean it up, so why get angry about it – it doesn’t make things better. Such is life. And so, in the end, we got to bed about 3.30 a.m. But F was right, it was much nicer to get up to in the morning.

And this morning, I asked him if he could remember the name of P’s friend. He said ‘no’ and that he was sure they were never introduced or introduced themselves to each other. I know I was and I know it was a strange name (or, at least, I think I know it was a strange name).

And, so, we spent New Year’s Eve with a woman I barely know from next door (although F knows her from years ago) and her friend that I don’t even know the name of! It’s a strange life I lead here. For certain, that would never have happened in the UK. I like my life here. It continues to be strange and challenging and improvised and with many surprises (most of which are good). Long may it continue this way.

That was the Christmas that was!

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And so, that was Christmas.

In the end, it wasn’t just the four of us. Christmas Eve, I was chatting to one of my students on Facebook chat and she asked me what I was doing so I told her. Obviously, I asked what she was doing and she said that she was on her own. So, more obviously, I invited her to join us for Christmas lunch. Well, it is the season of giving and goodwill to all men (and women) and all that sort of stuff, isn’t it? The thought of someone I know (even if only a student) on their own on Christmas day would have been unbearable.

There was plenty of food. In fact we didn’t do everything that we had planned. But we did have antipasto and cold meats, followed by the lasagne (which was fantastic) and then my roast veal (which was OK – but not as nice as it should be) and the Yorkshire puddings failed – I have to find out why – it doesn’t make sense – but everything else was good – including my mince pies.

And we had presents. F was really happy with my main present to him. After the camera thing (that he decided to buy himself), FfI suggested I buy him a printer to print pictures – and knowing he likes doing compilation CDs for everyone, I bought him a printer that does photos and CDs as well. He was really happy. And I bought him a jumper from Zara that he said he had looked at in Madrid and nearly bought. So, a great success. Luckily I had also bought the scarf made by Lola – so instead of F getting it, I gave it to S (the waif and stray student). She was overjoyed with it. So, thank you Lola – without that I would have had nothing to give her.

So, although it didn’t all go as expected, I think it was a success. After we took the dogs for a walk and S had left, we went to watch ‘Prancer’ (La rene – in Italian) – that I gave F last year because it is his favourite film for Christmas. But he fell asleep within a second – and so we stopped watching it. Then there was Ratatouille (in Italian) on the TV.  We watched it for a little.  F fell asleep again.  So I tidied up the kitchen and took the dogs out and went to bed.  I was asleep before 11.  F was still asleep lying on the bed, fully clothed.  He woke up and felt cold so got into bed with me and we both went to sleep.

During the day he had phoned S (his ex) and we chatted for a few moments.  S asked what we were doing for New Year.  I said we were just staying home. He laughed and said that F never wanted to do anything except stay at home.  And it is true.  But now I realise he has always been like this.  But, for me, it is fine.  In fact, it is good and exactly what I like to do.  I suspect that this thing was one of the reasons that they broke up in the end.  After all, that was more like V &; I – V wanting to go out more than me.

And, we have had more of cleaning.

“I’ll just clean a little bit the flat”, he says.  I have never corrected his English on this.  It’s kinda cute and I like it a lot.  There has been much ‘cleaning a little bit the flat’ – although the bedroom remains a major thing to be ‘tidied up’.  In fact, this morning he says ‘That has to go’ – to a bag full of envelopes.  It’s OK.  It means he is much more comfortable here.

Rufus has been bad again since yesterday.  And he ‘staggers’ sometimes – falling forwards or sideways – unable to stand upright so well.  Poor thing.  However, it’s a good job we didn’t go to Vienna with him like this.  I would have felt so guilty.  And it’s much more comfortable for him to be in his own environment – the place that he knows.  Bless him.

And now F has gone to work.  He has to re-do the shop window.  I need to do some shopping and I have a lesson tonight, unfortunately.

In the meantime, I give you the photo of the mince pies :

Homemade Mince Pies

It seems I collect plastic carrier bags. Who knew?

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I can’t find the post where I first mentioned it but I’m sure I did.

I certainly told a lot of people.

And then, yesterday, finally, it happened.  It starts off like a normal day except that it isn’t a normal day at all.  Firstly, I am on holiday.  Secondly, I have found a recipe for mince pies – which includes making your own mincemeat.  I’ve never done it before and finding all the ingredients was, shall we say, a bit of a challenge.  In the end I didn’t find everything but I did, eventually, find stem ginger which for me was the most important part.  Mixed spice doesn’t have to be mixed spice (but can be a mixture of spices I can find) – suet can be replaced by butter, special sugar can be replaced by other sugar, etc.  But stem ginger couldn’t really be replaced.  I found some and so it was a green light.

So, I start the mincemeat.

I had promised to go visit FfC, picking up FfI (who is now living, not in Isola but in V’s flat) so I could pick up my cushions for the sofa.  I was late.  When I got there, as usual, she huffed and puffed about the fact that it was too late and she didn’t think she would go now.  I’m like ‘whatever’.  It’s the cutting off the nose to spite the face thing and it annoys me a lot.  I don’t bite.  I don’t say ‘Oh. please come’.  I really don’t care.  If she comes she comes and it will be nice and if she doesn’t then it will be nice too.

She decides to come.  I think ‘Don’t try these games on me lady – I lived with V for over 20 years!’

She tells me that FfC has done lunch!  I wasn’t expecting that.  We go.  FfC’s mother is there, over from Canada.  FfC now has a baby.  It is lovely (the time, not the baby).  I have a nice time and I really love FfC.  Her baby is a baby.  Her Mum keeps trying to give it to me.  I decline.  Several times.  She asks me who I think it looks like.  I explain that I don’t do that.  Babies look like babies and I can never see any parent in them.  They all look, more or less, the same – like a baby.  I’m not really a baby person.

I agree to take FfC to the butchers so she can get her turkey.  F calls and suggests that I call by at his office to collect boxes, as I have the car.  I then drop FfI off at a bank and make my way to his office.

He has shoe boxes.  A lot of them.  We fill up the space in the car that remains after the cushions had been put in (they are BIG).  We drive home to my place. He helps me with carrying stuff up and decides to stay rather than go home.  In itself, this is unusual.  But I like it.

He starts suggesting that, perhaps he should do a bit of sorting out of the lounge.  Or the kitchen.  This thing that he has been threatening to do for a while now (and for which I can’t find the post).  I am nervous.  We would have done it last Sunday but An couldn’t get back to the UK. But I’m not really prepared for it now. However, if he wants to do it ………..

It seems he does.  He starts.  I am supposed to ‘throw things away’.  Hmmmm.  He is shocked by my collection of carrier bags.  I collect them to line the rubbish bin.  We find so many I will never need to have another bag for a year, probably!

Things get put into shoe boxes with the contents written on the outside.  Boxes get stacked in cupboards.  He is going to be here next time my cleaner is here, he says, to explain to him how to clean properly.  He is like a mad man.  Every surface has to be cleaned.  It is quite scary..

The kitchen is slowly re-ordered.  Everywhere is cleaned.  It seems he is in his element.  All the items on the top of the kitchen cupboards get put somewhere else (inside a cupboard).  All the bottles and things on top of the fridge get put inside cupboards.  It is hard work and, mostly, I am watching!

I would have stopped after about 1 hour.  He is going to finish it because ‘I won’t sleep if anything is left to do’, he says.

At half past ten, I take the dogs out.  At midnight I go to bed.  At 2 a.m., or thereabouts, he comes to bed.  The kitchen is the same and yet changed.

‘I will check it once a week’, he says.  I laugh.  ‘I am serious’, he says.  ‘I know you are’, I reply, laughing still – laughing because I know he will.

This morning, it being Christmas Eve, I must go to the supermarket and get the veg.  He tells me I must also get some things for the bathroom.  He is going to ‘do’ the bathroom.  Maybe later today.

Tomorrow, he will do the lounge as I am doing the cooking and as he is preparing the dining table.  He will too.  He says he enjoys it.  He is, in fact, quite crazy.

But, I wonder?  What if this is the start of us living together?  Maybe he has this idea, now that we spend most of our time here, that he might as well make the house more as he would like it.  And if I can keep it more or less the same (i.e. perfectly neat and tidy), he will be happier to stay here.  And then, his house becomes more like ‘a room’ that is his?

And, so, gradually, he moves in without there being a definite move, if you see what I mean?  No point at which we are ‘living together, officially’ just a point at which he doesn’t really go to his home much any more?

Maybe?  We shall see.  In the meantime, the kitchen is better and I do, quite like it.

But now I must get on and make the Lemon Meringue Pie (for a birthday party tonight) and finish off my mincemeat and make the mince pies.  The mincemeat, after being left overnight does actually smell like mincemeat now, too!  I am very happy about that.

Have a good Christmas everyone.

And lots of love from me, F, Rufus and Dino.

Roast Fish Pie with all the trimmings

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“We could have this?”, he says. This, being a fish pie.

To be honest, I know it doesn’t sound terribly exciting but I’ve never actually made a fish pie in my life. And I’ve been around the block a few times. In fact, I’ve never really cooked fish until I met F. And I find it a bit of a struggle. Born and brought up in the wilds of deepest, darkest Herefordshire, fish wasn’t something that was really ‘local’. When my parents (and I) moved to Gloucestershire, near the river Severn, we sometimes had salmon – provided by the next door neighbour as they were caught up in the water filtration used for the nearby nuclear power station – and, of course, the obligatory (we are British) fish and chips – which I always hated, by the way.

So, fish. Difficult. But with F not eating any meat (except mince, polpette (meat balls) and sausages) it poses a problem for cooking. Lamb chops (my favourite) are a definite no-no. And, here, we were talking about Christmas.

The plan had been to go to Vienna for Christmas. F’s friend had a friend who has offered us their flat for the four of us (us and the two dogs) but with Rufus’ unpredictability with illness (although for the last few days he has been very well), we are thinking not. Not this year anyway.

So, whereas I would choose goose for Christmas, as last year, it is not to be. F’s face, at the mention of it, screws up in disgust with an ‘oh, no!’. To be honest, I’m not sure why. He is a bit fussy as far as food is concerned which is a little galling but not enough to make me not love him – after all, we go out quite a lot and then I can have meat. And I eat meat at work every day. So all is not bad.

However, I thought it would be nice to propose having fish for Christmas lunch. I know that, to those of you in the UK, it will sound very strange but here, fish for Christmas lunch is normal. I know, I know, it doesn’t seem Christmassey to me either but it’s a compromise and I’m happy to make it.

To stat with he suggested that I should do meat and he would just have vegetables. But I really can’t be doing with that – I would feel mean eating meat and him just having veg.

He had suggested lasagna (we can buy it Christmas morning if we pre-order it) and it would be lovely. After some discussion, about what we would have, as we were eating the above mentioned fish pie, he suggested that I do this very dish. And he would do a fish lasagna!

Again, perhaps it’s just me but fish lasagna just doesn’t sound quite right. And, anyway, I was quite looking forward to having a nice meaty lasagna. As I explained to him, eating a course of meat and then a course of fish is really no problem for me. And I am doubly surprised by Italians not going for it – they do have vitello tonnato after all (thin slices of veal covered with a thick tuna based sauce – which, incidentally, I hate – having a fish course followed by meat (or vice versa) is one thing but to mix fish and meat together makes me feel sick.)

Ah well. It’s one of the prices I pay. And it’s not really a great price to pay. It’s not like we shall starve or anything.

On the plus side, he really liked my fish pie (as you may have gathered) so now that’s two fish recipes I can do and that he likes (or, at least, says he does). And I know that he knows that I am making a real effort to make him happy – which I do not because I want him to know but because I’m glad to make him happy in the same way that we have gone to all-meat restaurants because he knows I love meat. It’s just the normal give and take. As you do. Or, rather, as you should do.