Category Archives: Strange things

How different is Italy and the Italians?

I thought the sausages were good – then they brought me meatballs!

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I went out with A last night.

We normally go to a restaurant because he wants (needs?) to eat. Sometimes I eat and sometimes not. Last night he suggested trying Il Trullo, a restaurant specialising in cuisine from Puglia (the heel of Italy) and, as we were going there, my mouth was already salivating. This restaurant does some of the best sausages that I’ve ever tasted.

It’s not a big restaurant and the tables are very close together – but it is always very busy and, probably, about 50% of the time we go there, we can’t get in!

It’s not really a romantic restaurant in any way, apart from the tables being so close, the lights are bright and it looks more like someone’s big kitchen. Last night, however, there was one table free.

They give us the menus but I already know I’m taking the sausages. However, when the guy comes to take the order, he informs me that they don’t have the sausages tonight. Instead, they have polpette (meat balls). It’s still cavallo though and so I choose that.

And, to be honest, they were even better than the sausages! Filled with herbs and spices, they came with a simple tomato sauce and red and yellow peppers strips. The taste is absolutely amazing!

Sadly, last night, the service wasn’t “wow!” In fact, it was rather poor. The usual two girls weren’t there.

But the meatballs! Just so stunningly good that, even as I write this, I can taste them and now I really want to go back there again tonight!

One of these days I’m going to try some other things but, you know, when I get there, the sausages (and now meatballs) are just so damned good, I can’t see anything past them.

We also had a litre of wine, two small bottles of water, some mussel thing that A had and he also had a sweet (Forest Fruit tart – which I tasted and it was rather lovely – definitely home-made) and the total cost was about €45 – which was really quite good.

Obviously, we are in Italy, so cavallo is fine (and I really like the meat as it’s quite strong tasting). For those of you who don’t eat meat (Lola) or want your meat to be in plastic trays covered with plastic film, don’t go looking up what cavallo is.

Still, I’ve been meaning to write about Il Trullo before. They do lots of fish stuff as well. And cheeses cooked with vegetables and I really should try this other stuff. But, right now, I just can’t – the cavallo stuff is just too, too good.

What makes it perfect is also the fact that it’s a couple of minutes from my flat and only a couple of minutes more from the new flat (it’s between the two). Which, by the way, we shall be moving into on 24th July – kitchen ready or not! Eeek!

Dripping Drugs Online

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You know how it is. You’re listening to a song on the radio and you hear something repeated and it sounds like some words but you know they aren’t the real words but now the words you thought were sung are fixed in your brain.

Like the famous Police hit, Sue Lawley (British people will understand this).

So, this morning, I swear I could hear a bloke singing/rapping “dripping drugs online”. I’ve looked up the lyrics but this particular refrain is not included since it’s not the main part of the song :'(

So, for me, during Duke Dumont’s, I Got U, I will always hear dripping drugs online.

See what you think?

In which I meet people that I’ve [still] never met.

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We’re sitting around a large kitchen table, as you do.

We’re chatting about the good old days of Mott [the Hoople]. Ian [Hunter] is talking about what fun it was and I’m agreeing and we’re talking about the great music they made and the great concerts they did.

The only one round the table who seems a really miserable bastard is Mick [Ralphs]. “It wasn’t that much fun”, he says.

I don’t know why he’s so miserable about it. Then, I start to wonder why I’m there at all, like I’m sitting round the table with old mates talking about “the good old days”, since I’ve never met them before now.

It just seems slightly odd. It “feels” right but my logical side says that it’s not right.

And, of course, my logical side is right.

I struggle to wake up enough to realise it’s all a dream.

I have never met these guys, even if they were my favourite group, growing up, and even if I’ve seen them a number of times. I can’t even imagine why I had this dream.

I don’t think Mick is a miserable bastard and I’m sure he wouldn’t say that, so doubly strange. And, yet, there they were, in my dream with us chatting about how good it all was like it was all quite normal and with Mick being grumpy like he was having a bad day!

Trip To The Post Office – why Italy can still shock me.

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It’s kind of nice – in a “OMG! I Can’t believe it!” way.

That, after all these years here, Italy is still able to shock me.

One could call it stupid, of course, but that would be unkind. One could call it jobsworth, which it certainly is. In so many ways, Italy is so flexible – you can smoke in some restaurants/bars, even if it’s illegal; if you want something done, you CAN get it done, somehow. But, in certain situations, no amount of stonewalling really works (unless you have several hours to spare, which I didn’t) and so I gave up on it. Or, rather, gave in. But, let me tell you the story of my …… Trip To The Post Office!

I arrive in the car park. I see there were few cars so I was hopeful that there would also be a small queue. I entered the Post Office and saw there was NO queue. I think this is possibly the first time ever that there has been no queue. In any post office in Italy!

However, all the counter staff were occupied.

The postal section (I was sending a parcel) only had one position open. The customer who was there, after a few minutes, was called over to another counter. I could see that the “assistant” (although it should be “notassistant”) was obviously busy doing some general paperwork.

So I waited.

Eventually, some assistant from the other end of the counters, called “next!” I showed I was sending a package (by holding the package up) and she wagged her finger at me and shook her head to say “no” and signaled for the woman behind me to come.

I’m a patient guy. I wait. Surely, I think, the notassistant who is actually sitting on the postal counter will stop what she is doing and serve me? But no. The lady finishes at the other end again, she calls “next!” Again, it was still “no” for me.

I was, by now, a little frustrated. I vowed that, the next time a counter was free, I would go up anyway. And not move until they served me.

A counter a couple up became free. This time I was accepted. In my bad Italian, I explain that I want to send the small package to England and I want it to get there in a couple of days and, preferably get a signature. She goes to ask the miserable notassistant. After a few minutes, she calls me down to the notassistant. I know her (I go to this post office quite a lot and there are two of them that do the post; both older ladies, one of them loves me and the other, this one, I think hates everyone and the whole world, probably for even existing!) and everything is just so much trouble.

“It’ll cost €30,” she says, expecting me to change my mind about sending it.

“That’s OK,” I say. She regards me, much as I assume Paddington Bear would regard me if I told him something he didn’t like. There was an unsaid, “Are you sure?”

But I was sure.

She next looked at the address. She read it out loud, as best she could.

“There’s no number,” she states, “There has to be a number.”

It takes me a moment to understand what she is saying. She’s right! There is no number. There’s the house name, the road name, the village name, the county name, the post code and the country. There just isn’t a number for the house. Here, in Italy, every house has a number, even if, sometimes, there is no name of the road. This is in addition to the post code. In the UK, of course, whereas there is often a number, in the small villages or if your house is really big and important, there isn’t always a number. In this case, there is no number. I try to explain.

“There is no number.” I’m not really sure what else I can say.

“It has to have a number otherwise we can’t send it.”

“But, there is no number for this house,” I add. “In England, the post office know that it has no number. It’s a small village and some houses don’t have a number.”

“Well, it has to have a number.” She is adamant. She goes to give me back the parcel.

At a different time, in a different place, I would have argued the toss. I would have stood my ground. I would have insisted. I was, quite frankly, shocked at the stupidity of her.

I was also a little angry. Not really angry as much as frustrated. How does this bloody country work? I mean how is it possible to get anything done? I want to kill her. This, in particular, is the most downright, shockingly stupid thing I’ve ever come across. I do realise that if I was sending it within Italy, I would need a number. But I am sending this to the UK. “Don’t you get it?”

I want to say that. But, of course, I don’t.

“But,” I add, “how can I give it a number if there is no number?”

The woman to whom I had first gone, pipes up, “It’s not the post office in England,” she explains, “It’s the post office here. If there is no number, they will return it.” This is helpful. Although, quite honestly, it is simply wrong.

I want to say, “At Christmas time, I sent these people a Christmas Card, using this same address, and my friends got it OK. So you are wrong.” However, siamo in Italia (we are in Italy) and I know that arguing with these people does not work whether they are right or wrong. These are the people who can “decide” whether something happens or not. If I don’t accept what they say, they just won’t do it. And there’s no one I can go to to fix this. I have to either go to another post office (and hope for the best) or send it another way. Or, I have to, somehow, solve this problem so that they will send it.

“OK,” I say, a little exasperated but trying hard not to show it in case they decide that accepting it at all is too much trouble. “If I write “1”, is that OK?”

I get several minutes of explanation of why they need a number which, to be honest, I don’t listen to. I repeat, “I’ll put a one.”

“It won’t go until tomorrow,” I am told. Whilst this is not the first time I’ve heard these attempts to dissuade me from using the postal service, they seem to be being persistent today!

“It’s OK,” I reply.

“Where is the telephone number?” Oh for fucks sake! I don’t know if I have it. My phone battery has nearly died. Can I get a number, assuming I have one, before it dies? If I don’t have their number, can I send a Facebook message AND get an answer before my phone dies?

“We must have a telephone number,” she adds, “because they will phone before delivery.”

I almost despair. I know (and, maybe they know), that no one will phone. They will try and deliver and, if no one is home, they’ll either leave it at a neighbour’s or take it back to the depot and make my friends collect it. In this case, if I can’t get the number (if I have it) from my phone, I’ll just put something down. After all, they won’t know if it’s right or not.

My phone lives. My contacts also list a phone number! I am in luck.

I fill in the slip of paper. It has my address, my phone number, their address (with a “1” against the street name), their phone number and two of my signatures.

“What’s inside?” she asks.

“A box,” I reply. She looks at me as if I am stupid. I smile. No, that’s not true. I grin. Yes, it seems stupid to have a box within a box – but it has the distinct advantage of being the truth. Inside the inner box is some foam. Rather special foam, I admit, but foam nonetheless. It’s like having a rather largish box for a watch, with the blocks of foam that you have inside ring/jewellery boxes. It’s true! Although I can see, as you read this, you, too, think it sounds stupid. I can’t tell you more just in case my friends read this. It’s a surprise, you see.

I try to explain. I think they get it. She says, “You write it in English, in this space.” I do.

She then “processes” the slip. This takes some time. Eventually, she tells me it’s €30.50 which, in fact, is only €1.50 less than the cost of the present! Still, it will be worth it for, I think, it is a most unusual present.

I can, I am told, track it on the Internet. I already know this, but allow her her moment of satisfaction at my special surprised expression.

I pay the money and take away my copy of the receipt.

My trip to the post office is done. I thank her (even if I think she really doesn’t deserve it) and thank the first woman on the way out.

And I’m out.

“Breathe!” I tell myself. “Just breathe, and remember that this is SO worth the effort.”

Now we shall see if that is true. In a few days or whenever the last delivery is made :-)

In the meantime, I have survived the Trip To The Post Office!

Update: the present was a box which contained a foam-like substance. the idea was to imprint your baby’s foot into the foam and it would remain forever (so you had to be careful doing it). I don’t actually know if they did do it but the idea was the thing any way!

The “Mafia” and the Catholic Church – two institutions that “run” Italy

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There’s a story about squatters living in one of the churches in Rome that the Pope uses.

They are, in fact, making some sort of demonstration about the housing crisis in Rome.

However, I was struck by the following:

“We are an alarm call, a heads-up that the housing system in Rome is collapsing,” said Luca Bonucci, 38, a former security guard who lost his home when his employer failed to pay him for a year.

The thing that struck me was not that the housing system in Rome is collapsing, nor that this guy was a former security guard that is now unemployed, nor that he “lost” his home.

It is that his employer failed to pay him for a year!

This is something that seems quite common here, in Italy.

In the UK, I only heard about this happening (for an extended period of time) for one person. Here, I’ve heard about it often. It seems a common thing.

Of course, this has all to do with cashflow management – and how good or bad the managers are at managing it.

It’s not helped by the fact that Italian government and council agencies still find it acceptable to pay companies late – more than 90 days – and yet those same agencies demand money immediately or, even, (from what I understand) in the case of VAT (IVA, here), up front! But it’s not only government and council agencies.

I can’t imagine continuing to work somewhere when I wasn’t paid – for a whole year!

It’s not even as if wages here are so huge. In fact, as I’ve mentioned before now, I still can’t quite understand how this country functions with wages set so low.

As usual, the solution to this (and most problems here), is a change in thinking. A change that seems unlikely to come any time soon.

I remember one of my “contracts” here when I was teaching. I did some work that was funded through the EU, providing cut-price lessons to companies in Italy. The pay for me was quite high (compared to most English teaching “jobs”) and the funding actually came through charity organisations. Since I did a number of these contracts, I had different contracts with different charity agencies.

All of them were really good – except one. The one that was terrible was the “Catholic” one. For this one, I really had to fight for my money. The others paid me almost as soon as the courses were complete. This one kept me hanging on for a couple of months. Eventually, I went to their headquarters. I was told that the person who could sign the cheque was not there right now. I said I would wait. They told me that it was not a good idea to wait as they didn’t know when he would come in but they would make sure that he signed the cheque as soon as he came in and I should come back the next day.

I went back the next day. Apparently, for one reason or another, he hadn’t signed the cheque. And he wasn’t there right now but they would get it done today and I could come back tomorrow. I explained that that wasn’t good enough and that I wasn’t trekking all the way across town again.

I said I would wait.

They didn’t want that but they thought that I would give up and go after an hour or so. They had no idea who they were dealing with. I waited for an hour and a half to two hours.

Suddenly I was called to the desk as somehow, miraculously, they had the cheque! This was strange, as no one had entered the building since I had arrived, apart from people going to the desk and then leaving!!!! I thanked them but told them that I would never do work for them again. I was shocked at the time as I never expected a Catholic charity to be lying bastards.

Catholic charities, it seems, are the worst for paying their debts! So it seems justified (in a justice sense) that the Catholic Church should suffer the homeless people who may have even been made homeless by their failure to pay the company for which poor Luca worked. Even if it wasn’t a Catholic charity directly, you can be certain they were involved somewhere down the line. They are, after all, as prolific here as the “Mafia”. And, to be honest, I would put them both in the same category of organisation.

The full link to the article is here

Tomorrow – will the Daily Hate Mail have won?

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I do my best but it’s difficult.

After years of crisis and depletion in spending power and savings, someone HAS to be to blame.

The popular newspapers have done their very best to pin the blame on a number of people which include those who are not working (the difference between not wanting to work and being unable to work is rarely made – and, anyway, the point is that “these people are taking your money for doing nothing”), people who are stealing from the system (often rolled into the previous group – at least by implication) and immigrants (illegal or legal).

In particular, they’ve being doing this, more or less, since 2008. That’s six years of propaganda. And six years of constantly pounding people with the same stuff has an effect.

Then, along comes the UKIP. Now, I’m unsure if the media want the UKIP or not. Certainly, they’ve being helping the three main parties to sling as much mud at them as possible. They have been effectively dubbed the “Loony party.”

However, there’s a major problem. In spite of the media and other parties attempts to discredit them, they ARE, in fact, repeating a lot of what those popular newspapers have been saying for all these years. This includes stopping immigration, removing the EU red-tape and making sure everyone pays his/her way. They repeat, for the most part, the headlines of the last six years and, because people have been reading about it for so long, it all makes perfect sense.

After World War I, The Germans went for similar rhetoric. Instead of blaming the huge debts that Germany was having to repay on both the other nations that were enforcing it and the government and its policies, they took the easy option of blaming the Jews. And we all know how that ended up.

And yet, it seems that the “how” of that happening has been lost and forgotten. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not drawing a direct comparison between the UKIP and the Nazis – the UKIP haven’t yet been talking about a “final solution”. But, there are similarities, don’t you think?

Even here, talking with colleagues and friends, there is a feeling that “immigrants” are to blame, especially the illegal immigrants. I point out that, without these immigrants, there would be no badante (private carers) to look after the increasingly aged population, since Italians don’t want to this type of work. But you can see I don’t make any real impact.

And, to be honest, it scares me. the problem is that I DO understand to some extent. The illegal immigrants that try to sell you a rose or some trinket or novelty lighter – sometimes one every five minutes – when you’re having a drink with friends outside a bar. It’s more than annoying. I point out that the problem is that “people” buy the roses. F, for instance, will, occasionally buy a novelty lighter. And so they continue to ply their wares. If you don’t want them here, annoying the hell out of you, DON’T buy anything from them and don’t give them money!

As I’ve always said, just like “charity begins at home”, look at your and your friends’ actions – THAT’S often the reason these people are here, still; still trying to sell you stuff you don’t need nor want.

And, since I’m an immigrant here, remember, when you say you agree with sending the immigrants home, that would include me! And I want to stay here, if you don’t mind.

So, we shall see what will happen tomorrow for the UKIP. I hope they don’t get the huge support that is being suggested. I fear, unfortunately, that they will. Their simple messages coinciding with the messages that have been fed to the populace over the last few years.

Bloody frightening.

Something that didn’t happen is reported as fact

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Someone posted an article on their Facebook wall.

To it, that someone added – “Can’t they just piss off”. The title of the article was “Girls Fined for Wearing Swimsuits That Offend Muslims”. Underneath was a Muslim in an abaya (I think) on a beach next to a woman sunbathing in a bikini. Oh my God, you may think, it must be true what they say about Muslims trying to take over the world!

Except, when you read the article, it’s not quite as it seems. I clicked upon it because, underneath the headline, it read: “Submit, convert, or pay a fine. When you go to a beach now in Italy, you better …….”

Apart from the terrible grammar, my attention was caught by the “in Italy” and I really found it hard to believe. Here, where sun-worshipping is a national sport and pretty much essential to most of the population, with the beaches packed solid with scantily-clad sunbathers, how could this possibly be true?

So, I started reading. Firstly, this was by a right-wing, so-called “media” website (on which, by the way, one of the buttons was entitled “ArmedandFemale”), a part of Liberty Alliance (which, of course means Liberty for all as long as you agree with us) – but, that aside, who could know? It may be true?

The first paragraph was:
“Civilization jihad is a process that Islam uses to methodically transform nations. It has proven to be an effective way to take over without violence.
Political correctness and ignorance are their best weapons.
Civilization jihad works by infiltration, then complaints about our culture, pushing for acceptance of islamic practices and threats of lawsuits over non conformity.”

OK, I may disagree with the overall argument but it’s not the worst I’ve ever seen.

Paragraph two:

“An example: The report about three women being fined for wearing swimsuits on a beach that were offensive to muslims, has generated a firestorm in responses. Though it has proven difficult to confirm, it is similiar to what is confirmed and already happening around the world in places where Islam is attempting to control the culture.”

Now this I have a bit more or a problem with. “proven difficult to confirm” – meaning it is just hearsay. So not real then? “Already happening around the world” – well, yes, but I think you’ll find this is in predominately Muslim countries – which is NOT the UK nor the USA and, certainly, not in very Catholic Italy!

Para three:
“There are already discussions by our own legislators of making negative speech about Islam a crime.”

Hmm. So, they are considering laws to make negative speech about Islam a crime, eh? Would that be similar to the non-discrimination laws they brought in some time ago, to a great deal of opposition, saying that you can’t racially abuse black people? Yes. It should be the duty of most people to ensure that they don’t verbally abuse anyone else, no matter what their race, gender, sexual orientation or religion. And, surely, as Americans for Liberty of all, you would agree with that. Or not? Does it only apply to the things that you, personally agree with?

Para four:
“It IS a perfect example of civilization jihad that the muslim brotherhood uses in their documented plan for the destruction of a nation from within.
Here was the basis of the report: ”

Hmm. “documented”? By whom? Where are the documents? And this hearsay which can’t be confirmed has suddenly become a “report”!

Para five:
“Submit, convert, or pay a fine.
When you go to the beach now in Italy, you better pack a full set of loose clothes and a hajib or get ready to shell out some serious money. This, according to a number of media outlets, reporting on an alleged case in Messina, Italy.”

I’m specifically ignoring the awful grammar. “a number of media outlets” – but not named. And, given this “media outlet”, were they even real media or something like this website? And these outlets were “reporting” on an “alleged case”. Again, not substantiated and so, quite possibly not real at all!

Para six:
“Reportedly, a justice of the peace in Messina, Italy has fined three girls an amount of approximately $3,500 each for wearing what is considered common beach wear in Italy, because the uncovered skin offended some Saudi Arabian tourists who were also at the private resort of Taormina.”

This implies that it was true. Except, remember the use of the words “alleged” and “difficult to confirm” used before. If this was really done by a Justice of the Peace, there would be hard facts and transcripts.

Para seven:
“Whether this is actually factual or not is not the issue… it is certainly the direction civilization jihad takes a nation.”

WHAT????? If you’re going to put the headline you have, it’d better be factual! Being factual IS the issue. Really, the second part doesn’t even make any sense.

To be honest with you, at this point I stopped reading. If it’s not factual then it’s not true and so the headline and everything else is just a load of crap. Worse, it’s being paraded as real and “happening”. However, for completeness (and this post) I continued.

Para eight:
“It has become common place for Muslims to make demands upon others to adhere to their standards, so it should not come as too great of a surprise that they filed their complaint.”

As opposed, of course, to the baying mob who want to impose their standards! Hahahahahahahahahaha

Para nine:
“This is what Islamization of a free society is all about and it is coming to YOUR state, your town, your neighborhood soon if you don’t fight back. This case happened in Italy. It is no accident. It is part of the muslim brotherhood’s plan for the destruction of a country from within. It is a very carefully planned, full proof meticulous process of slow but deliberate transformation….. Islamization.”

Second sentence first; This case DID NOT happen in Italy. It is a scare story and cannot be confirmed or verified. It is, in fact a GREAT BIG LIE! And, who are these “muslim brotherhood” people? Oh yes, they are the semi-political party in Egypt! So, they aren’t in the USA and they are NOT bringing this big plan for the destruction of the USA to you, the USA, any time. Neither sooner or later. This is just a hate-filled, illogical, lying rant!

Para ten:
“Don’t be fooled. What happens over there is already a process underway here in America.”

Over where? In Italy? Are you out of your fucking mind? But, of course, the majority of the small-minded people in the USA who read this, won’t actually know how to find the facts and, so, will be taken hook, line and sinker by this trash “report”.

Para eleven:
“The encroachment of Sharia Law continues virtually unchecked.. We have over 50 court cases in this country where American judges have allowed Sharia law to trump Constitutional law in cases involving Muslims.”

Rubbish, rubbish, rubbish! And, if the writer doesn’t know this then they are stupid. Being stupid doesn’t stop them writing which, unfortunately, makes them dangerous.

Stupid and dangerous is NOT a good combination. God help America if this is the type of person it turns out.

Para twelve:
“Think situations like this are an outrage? Get ready America…. They are here and the demands to submit to “their way” are already happening all around us.”

This whole “report” is an outrage and I am constantly shocked by the lack of any outrage to articles like this.

So, let me summarise for you.

Something didn’t happen but let’s say it did and express our hatred at a group of people who believe in something that doesn’t fit with our idea of what should be believed. Are we ready? Everybody hate these people!

I’m afraid I won’t link to the “article” as I don’t want them to get any more traffic but I have quoted it word for word (exactly as it was written.)

The real lesson behind this is: read each thing with scepticism and DON’T believe everything you read, especially on the Internet.

Visits are like breeding rabbits.

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So, as far as it goes, The Visit number 2 was OK. In fact, in the end, I did The Visit number 2 and The Visit number 3, since The first Visit had spawned 2 other Visits.

Overall, so far and touch wood, everything is fine. In fact, it’s all too fine.

As a result, I am now required to go on another FOUR Visits!!

FFS!

I think the theory being worked on here is that there SHOULD be something and they will go to extraordinary lengths to find this something.

When I say “they”, I mean “they” want “me” to do Visits (and pay even more money).

On the other hand, the “too fine” bit meant that, apparently, I am one of very few very, VERY lucky people in the world. So I was told. And that’s a problem. Apparently.

And so, 1 Visit leads to 2 more Visits which leads to 4 more visits.

Anyone spot a pattern here?

Is one of the new Visits going to result in another 8 Visits? God, I hope not. This is too stressful for me.

My worry is kept hidden, of course, except from you, my dearest reader. I am, during these Visits, at my most charming and am able to happily (on the face of it) chat and laugh and cause others to laugh. My favourite joke is that I am giving them a free English lesson too!

But, it is no laughing matter. At least, not for me.

Visit number 4 now takes place tomorrow. This is the one that (I’m sure) the person at my Visit number 3 “hopes” will provide something – otherwise, it’s just not fair. Which, I guess, is true.

But this multiplication of further Visits is exactly the reason why I never really wanted to go on the first Visit.

Bloody people.

Notes from a far-off country

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Monday, 28th April.

It is very dark o’clock. The alarm goes off and I know that I must get up. I have only left myself 20 minutes before the taxi expects me to be downstairs. I’m hoping it will be enough.

The dogs stay with me, hopefully, for about 5 minutes until they lose hope and realise that I won’t be taking them out after all.

I leave the house at about a minute to 4. It is tipping it down. Miserable, bloody weather. Still, I will be out of it for a few days. Not that I want to be, you understand. I’m off the that far-off country. One that everyone agrees is “lovely” and I hate, almost without measure.

I get to the station for the train to the airport. It is still dark and still raining. I realise that this thing we have, with airlines leaving before about 10 or 11 in the morning – not before 9, anyway.

The sooner I am out of this effing rat-race, the better.

I have a cigarette – only my second so far – but I know this train – there is no warning it will leave so, even if there is 5 minutes to go, I get on.

Lots of people are on the train but it is silent. Some people seem to be sleeping and I wish I could. A woman gets on at the second or third stop. There’s lots of goodbyes to one or more people at the station and then she spends the rest of the journey on the telephone. I wonder who the hell she can be speaking to before 5 in the morning?

We arrive at the airport and, as expected for the far-off country, the check-in is “special” and requires the longest walks.

I go out for several cigarettes and then in through the security control with its massive queues and, again, I wonder at this need (real need) to fly everywhere so early.

I get through there and up to the gate area and head for the café for my shot of caffeine. And then a final cigarette.

On the plane, I stupidly offer the window seat to one of my colleagues, one of whom takes it up and then proceeds to sleep through most of the flight. Still, it’s not so important as I have a book. A new book; one of those supposedly for summer at the beach.

I read over half on the four-hour journey. This is not good. Obviously, I still have the problem of reading too fast. More books will need to be bought!

As we’re on the plane, I realise that I just don’t like people. In fact, I loathe them, especially in a crowded place. I’m talking people in general, making no discrimination between races, young or old, male or female. People are just bloody horrible.

We arrive. We go through passport control which is more special here. Don’t they realise that I really don’t want to be here?

“Why are you here?”

“Because I have to come and subject myself to this bloody horrible country with you bloody horrible people”

“Who are you coming to see?”

“Some of the most vile people I have ever had to deal with”

“Was it at their invitation?”

“Invitation?! If only it were so simple as something I could refuse? Believe me, I would have gratefully declined.”

Of course, the questions were real, my responses less so. A lot less so. In fact, nothing like what I have written.

I collect my case, I go straight out to have a cigarette. I go back in to get cash. I am told, by my colleague that the little fucker who is our agent here, has come to pick us up. Surprisingly, as he had indicated he wouldn’t.

Apparently, we weren’t grateful enough for this “sacrifice” but since he is a shit-stirrer, I couldn’t care less. I remember the last trip here. The trip just before Christmas when it was ‘too much trouble’ to take us anywhere!

Whilst driving to the customer, I made the mistake of asking how he was. We get the “holocaust story”. I really wish I hadn’t asked.

I spend the afternoon, sitting, bored to fuck while the engineers talk about dimensions and stuff.
I’ve already had enough!