Category Archives: Work

A Subheading only, really

Choices, choices.

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Now things have become more difficult. I went to see a flat last night. It is, more or less, the same price as the perfect-flat-on-the-perfect-street (or can be, according to the guy showing me round). It has good and bad points. On the plus side is the following:

  1. It is slightly bigger
  2. It has a garage for the car (just behind the building) included in the price
  3. It has a terrace that is, in effect another, extra room – at least for about 6 months of the year.
  4. It is in Isola which has a ‘village’ feel to it.
  5. The front overlooks a very nice church and grounds (looks like a well-kept park), the back overlooks the garages and has green trees around.
  6. The lounge/diner is definitely a lounge and diner (I.e. there is more than enough room)

On the minus side are the following things:

  1. It does not have the character of the perfect-flat-on-the-perfect-street.
  2. It does not have a courtyard at the back, so is not like the perfect-flat-on-the-perfect-street – i.e. pretty
  3. The kitchen is not ‘abitabile’ but more galley type.
  4. The kitchen is not fitted with anything so would require buying.
  5. The bedroom is not as big.
  6. The terrace, if it faces south, will be too hot during the day in June, July and August so will be unusable, except at night.
  7. It is in Isola which, being like a ‘village’ means that everyone knows your business.

All very difficult. Of course, FfI, who lives in Isola (hence FfI – Friend from Isola) is quite keen for me to live there and the terrace appeals to her (for sunbathing, bar-b-ques, etc.). She is going to see it today.

On the other hand, I go to see the woman who owns the perfect-flat-on-the-perfect-street on Friday evening, after I have seen the flat-with-the-terrace (so I can see it in the daylight). Decisions must be made.

Back with the ‘old’

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As you may have noticed, I have decided to go back to the old way of doing posts. I decided that the whole blog looked a little boring and need ‘spicing up a bit’.

So, for those of you newer readers, it goes like this.

Type the title of the post into Google and do an image search. Select an image from the first page – any image you like but always from the first page of results. Use that image.

As I have said in the past, should anyone be unhappy about the use of an image and is the owner, please contact me and I shall remove it.

Sweating (and acting) like a pig; spring, maybe?; Friday the 13th

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I’m sorry. I’m sure I do not have perfect habits (in fact, I know I have not) but, certain things I do not do in public and, certainly, not in an office I share with my colleagues.

I do not, even if I am hot and sweating, lift my arms up to smell underneath my armpits. I don’t do it once, let alone several times whilst my colleagues, even if they are at their computers and not looking at me directly, cannot help but see me out of the corner of their eyes. Nor would I exclaim at the same time that I was sweating with a slightly disgusted tone to my voice.

Having said that, the weather, today, is rather superb. There is not a cloud in the sky and it is quite warm in the sun although there is a breeze (you probably wouldn’t even notice the breeze in the UK) and the wind is cold. However, it is supposed to continue like this for a few days yet, so that is rather fantastic.

On another subject, for you lot in the UK and the USA, I guess, today is that dreaded day FRIDAY THE THIRTEENTH. Here, it has no real meaning and so, although it crosses my mind, fleetingly, it really isn’t something to worry about. Instead, here, the bad day is the 17th. Also, a black cat crossing the road in front of you is unlucky. Now, S, should any of the bad Italian things happen to her, checks with me to see if it is bad in the UK. If not (like the black cat thing) then she chooses to believe the English version. I must admit that I lied, once, to her when she broke a mirror, saying that, in the UK, it did not mean bad luck. It made her happy anyway. It seems some superstitions are the same after all.

On different flats; the Good, the Bad but not the Ugly.

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Yesterday I had written a longish post. But it just didn’t feel right. And I don’t want to turn this blog into some sort of painful car crash thing. And, anyway, that’s not really me. Well, that’s not quite true, it is a part of me but I constantly fight against those crap thoughts and do my very best to find positive things.

I went to see a flat the other night. Newly restored (still wip), it will have all new appliances (better than the current flat, for certain), new floors, newly painted walls and it is only partly furnished so some of my prized pieces of furniture can come with me.

The lady (landlady) was lovely and I think it would work. Just a little further out than I would like but you can’t have everything, I suppose. Still, it’s quite a nice residential area of Milan. I know the area a bit and it’s close to other friends which will be nice. It has some things that are not important but nice like automatic shutters (and it’s on the first floor so they will have to be shut when I am out).

There’s another one, cheaper and bigger, on the fourth floor, but no lift. I wonder how annoying that will become. What will it be like when Rufus finds it difficult to walk up and down the stairs? When I’ve a glass of wine too many? When my knee is hurting? On the plus side, it has a terrace! And it’s coming up to summer. Sipping a beer there on a warm summer evening might be worth the four flights of stairs, maybe?

Let’s look at it first.

A final note is that we are communicating. By email. This is, at the same time, good and bad. The good part is, I would hope, obvious. The bad part is that I could, quite easily, just fall back into the thing without resolving the fundamental issues which, in the long term, would prove fatal. But time is short. However, at least we are friends and it is not turning ugly.

The future’s bright, the future’s what colour?; It’s life, Jim, but not as we know it.

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The future. Unless you have kids and are thinking of their future, the future must, inevitably, include you. And this makes it a very fragile thing that only exists in your own head.

For, if we are not in the future, then the future that you thought in your head doesn’t and will not exist.

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Talking about you; Where English words come from; An open window

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The number of visitors I get for the ‘new’ (well, it’s not so new, really) blog is higher than the old one (a little). But it’s not that that is the surprise. It’s where the people come from.

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Death by a thousand cuts

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So, there you are. Someone does something that, in itself, is not so bad or so terrible or so hurtful. You have been relied upon for so many years to do something and then, because things are a little strained and they won’t ask for help, they go and do it themselves or, find someone else to do it.

And you don’t know until it has been done.

And it’s a shock because you didn’t realise that they were going to do that. And, maybe, a little angry. And, probably, somewhat hurt that they had done it and you would have been quite happy to do it.

Or maybe you wanted to be asked, even if you would have said ‘no’ or made it for some time that was going to be impossible for the other person. But you wanted that chance to say ‘no’ or make it difficult. And they have taken that away from you.

And you look at the result and you’re not impressed. You know that you would have done a far better job as you know the person and you know what they like.

The trouble is that, for whatever of the reasons that you wanted to be asked – to say ‘no’ or because you would have done it willingly and wanted to – it’s difficult to keep your voice and face from expressing some emotion and, thereby, letting the person know that they have ‘got one over on you’.

It’s another little cut. Each one is nothing. Even a hundred is nothing. But a thousand? With each you bleed a little more. After a thousand you are dead and, in the meantime, the death is agonisingly slow and painful.

Of course, it may be that they weren’t trying to do anything. Maybe they were just trying to make it easier. Maybe they had to do it as you had gone out and they didn’t know when they would see you again for this to be done?

Have you counted the cuts yet? Is it near a thousand? Wouldn’t it be better if they just made one fatal slash? Then it would be over and the pain would go away and you would be free of this life.

Oh, yes, and this is both of you in both situations. It’s not just the one side, of course. Intentional or not intentional – the result is the same.

And, if you’re on the receiving end, it hardens the heart a little more. It makes you more stubborn and I’m already as stubborn as they come.

Whilst, if you’re giving the small cut, it has two feelings. There is a feeling of giving back what you get. A small victory in this war of small attacks. In a war that, surely, is far too important to be taken so lightly. In a war that, in the end, gives no winner.

he other feeling is one of sorrow. That something was taken to be something it was not; that you couldn’t see that the thing would have been seen as such a bad thing. But, then, you knew really; it was pride that meant you could not ask; pride and stubbornness; pride, stubbornness and the desire to have at least one thing that you could “show” you didn’t need the other person for.

So, locked in your silences this is all you have to show – this demonstration of independence and strength.

Meanwhile, the bleeding continues……….

Thoughts of Porridge; Polenta – why?; Fairy Cakes

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For some strange reason, this morning, I had this desire to have porridge. To be more precise, ReadyBrek which, I know, is not porridge.

Maybe it’s because it is cold.

I don’t even remember if it was a thought this morning or part of a dream during the night.

Funnily enough, we had polenta for lunch today. This has the consistency of porridge with none of the taste. More exactly – no taste. As I said to one of my colleagues, after they had asked me if I had ever cooked polenta at home and I had replied ‘no’ – it has no taste at all so why? It’s one of those foods that is there to fill you up, I guess. Anyway, she could not answer.

On the plus side, Gina (the cook) had make some small fairy cakes (plain and chocolate sponge) and she slipped on of those onto my tray. It’s always the right thing to do to get on with the people who provide food!!!