From Tripoli in Libya! Via email!!
Now, as far as I know, I don’t actually know anyone who either lives in or travels to Libya.
From Tripoli in Libya! Via email!!
Now, as far as I know, I don’t actually know anyone who either lives in or travels to Libya.
I’m not quite sure why I always seem to end up involved in Engineering. I don’t like it and I don’t really find it interesting. Sure, I can talk the talk and interact with Engineering people but it’s just lumps of metal (or plastic, or some other material) which are eventually put together to do a job. My real interest is only in the fact that the ‘job’ gets done.
Maybe I am just a grumpy old git.
Very short post just before our customers arrive. I am so busy and with V working the long hours (which should finish soon) I just have no time at the moment not even visiting my favourite blogs!
Wolverhampton was, well, Wolverhampton. Thank goodness, arriving back and stepping off the plane reminded me why I live here. It was about 25 degrees and fabulous.
After a dismal May and June, with rain and temperatures less than the UK sometimes, we are now back to normal. Temperatures in the low 30’s and clear blue skies. Hurrah.
Dino is turning into a great dog. The toilet training is going quite well and he is so sociable and playful with the other dogs in the park. A real pleasure.
He does have the one trick that he always plays. We usually go to the park for an hour or an hour and a half when I return home each night from work. After spending time playing with his many friends at the large dog area, when it comes time to go he’s not so keen. So, he just lies down and has to be enticed to move. Once we’re off the grass he’s pretty much fine but it normally takes me about a quarter of an hour to get him off the grass. Bless.
Well, now. Moving the site was a tad interesting. I had said before that, maybe, at some time, upgrade my version of WordPress and I found that, in fact, as I moved, I had no choice. It did take a little longer than I had hoped but, at least, it finally worked.
Hurrah! We’re back. And I say “we” meaning me and a “guest” poster. This will be revealed in the near future (but it isn’t V who, to be frank, shows little interest in the blogging thing).
There’s a weirdness about Italy that is not particularly peculiar to Italy but, in my view, the extent is peculiar.
Dino
I couldn’t wait until Monday. The last time I had made a Lemon Meringue Pie, a week or so ago, I took a piece in for S to try. She had been badgering me for the recipe ever since and, eventually, I obliged.
Now, of course, I’m feeling hungry. At the moment, as I write this (it’s 2.15 p.m.), my mind flicks over between a nice panini (of course, I should correctly say panino since I am only thinking about one…..no, come to think of it, my mistake was putting the word ‘a’ in front of nice panini) to a plate of pasta. And then, A, bless her, has suggested we meet with her and another friend, B, for a Thai next week (and by that I mean, of course, dinner in a Thai restaurant – not some random person from the Thailand).
Of course, this is entirely all of my own doing – me feeling hungry, that is. I have noticed that, in the last few years a number of things are happening. None of them are really good but I put a brave face on them by saying something like ‘well, I am quite old now’ or ‘at my age why should I bother about that’.
I lie, not only to myself, but also to others, including V but V never reads the blog so I can mention it here.
So, I am not eating anything for lunch. Now, those of you who know me and, in particular, have worked with me, will know that I never really ‘did’ lunch. Lunch was for wimps. Actually, so was breakfast. The only time I ever did lunch was when I had to for business purposes and the only time I did both was when I was on holiday or stayed in a hotel for business purposes.
Not a new thing. I started this at the age of 14 (so more than a couple of years ago). You see, by that time I was hooked on the smoking thing. And, at 14, we moved to a new house and so, to a new school. The fantastic thing about this school was that, at the start of each week, we were given money to purchase tickets for lunch (we used to call it dinner money – strange that, since it was for lunch and not dinner).
But, of course, I soon learned that if I didn’t use the money for dinner I could go into the town and buy something that I really wanted – so that would be cigarettes, then!
And that continued for the rest of my life until …. we came to Italy and, more specifically, when I started this job. The problem was that I used to teach here. I used to do a class in the morning and another after lunch and they gave me free lunch and, since most of my classes seemed to revolve around food (important for both me and every Italian), the offer of a free lunch in the canteen here was really not something I could (or could be seen to) pass up. The other problem is that, on some level, it is still like I’m on holiday – but all the time.
And now I work here. And the canteen is good. It’s not a five-star restaurant, but G (the cook) does fabulous meals.
So, I always have the pasta course and the main course.
And there’s the rub. Because then I go home and we have a meal similar to those we had in the UK (in terms of the amount, not the quality).
Unsurprisingly, I have gained a little weight. Well, that’s true up to a certain point. Not only have I gained a little weight but it seems my body has decided to redistribute itself. Weight (fat or muscle, it’s difficult to remember what it was really) from my top half is going with gravity whilst weight from my bottom half is defying gravity.
They are meeting in the middle. Not really very good. This wasn’t supposed to happen until I was, say, about 70! And others can say that I don’t look my age, but when I look at myself and the redistribution that has occurred, I think only of my grandfather who is (was) always in his 70’s – in my mind. He had the same problem – but, then, he was 70+, for God’s sake!
So, now, I’ve gone from not having lunch (well, hardly ever) to having lunch every day to not having lunch every day. Providing that I don’t go anywhere near the canteen and cannot smell the food cooking, I am fine (more or less).
This week I have done really well. I had lunch on Wednesday. This was a determined effort by me since last week I ended up having lunch every day – and my stomach didn’t shrink. So, this week only Wednesday. To be honest, Monday was easy, Tuesday less so and Wednesday I gave in.
S came back from lunch and said that the lunch was OK (actually, Friday is not my favourite day, the choice is not so good) and I felt rather proud of myself that I had only had one lunch this week. And then that made me think of food and then I felt hungry. Oh yes, and I can’t get rid of the pictures of the very nice salami that is currently in the fridge and I even started thinking about having lunch tomorrow by having some of that salami!
People here have suggested that I only have one course in the canteen or have a salad. But I just can’t do it. G and P are so nice and although I have managed to get them to give me less, it is impossible for me to say no.
And this has been the most dreadful, rambling blog post that I think I have ever done. For which I apologise.
P.s. as I’m posting this, S has just offered me a small piece of chocolate, which, to be polite, I did not refuse ;-).
Many thanks to J, a colleague of V’s, who, yesterday, gave V 160 Tetley tea bags. Hurrah! Obviously they won’t last forever but at least I should be alright for a bit.
Sunday was the start of Men’s Fashion Week. A rang to say she had been to the Dolce and Gabbana or Versace show (I forget which) where a male model (apparently famous but I have no idea who it was) was signing a pair of men’s underpants should you buy a pair. Apparently, he was acting like Father Christmas and allowing the person having their pants signed, to sit on his knee. A and her Texan friend were tempted. Later when they were about to go they noticed that he was surrounded by gay men. Quell surprise!
For me, Fashion Week is less about fashion and more about traffic. Traffic and parking. The lesser shows are put on in available spaces – and some of the available space is in my area, so the traffic becomes unbearable and the parking non-existent.
I feel dreadful, though, that I missed both Beyonce and the Spice Girls. Well, no, that’s a lie. I don’t feel dreadful at all. And, as I’m rushing from my car to get out of the cold and rain, a nice warm house and a glass of wine seem so much more inviting.