Nearly there …. in more than one way.

OK so the problem I had with the websites that I have been working on (and off and on) over the last couple of weeks is finally solved. I think. I hope!

It included over a week of inactivity whilst the hosting company detected and solved the problem with some (I suppose) hack on their servers and then me fixing the WordPress parts. The main thing is that the hack that made the Dashboard really crap (for both the customer and me) has now gone away, which I like. I had a few hairy moments today but, now that’s it’s fixed, I am so much happier. It’s been weighing on my mind somewhat.

Now, once the backup is complete, I shall do a bit of tidying up on that one site and then, maybe, update my site.

So, I think that’s nearly done.

The editing I have been doing in my waiting times is also nearly complete – although that is no chore but rather lovely, to be honest. But, I reckon on finishing it by tomorrow. So that’s nearly done too.

And, then, this lunchtime, I went and paid the deposit and agency fee for the new house. Tomorrow evening, we go to sign the contracts and, in theory, it will be ours to furnish and sort out from 1st June. This is good because, as I may have mentioned, F’s flat has already been rented to someone from 1st June.

So the flat “getting” is nearly done. Obviously the moving part isn’t but that’s not so bad.

But I’ve stopped worrying (for now) about the moving in together thing as I was sorting out the website and that was much more of a worry.

So that’s good too.

So, nearly there in more than one way! :-D

Invitations

Well tomorrow, we were invited to go on some yacht sailing off the Ligurian coast, no doubt drinking champagne and eating fabulous food.

And Sunday we were invited to Udine to some party and stay the night.

Instead, tomorrow we shall be going to some place to choose fabric for the three-piece suite (and the the second-hand shop to look for doors, I hope) and Sunday we shall be sorting things out before moving.

The contract will be talked about today and, probably, we shall sign it next week.

Or that is the plan.

And, in the meantime, I am still as busy as hell.

So I’ll leave you now.

Have a good weekend.

A rabbit frozen in the headlights of an oncoming car. What happens next?

I admit it, I have a problem.

My problem is simple. When there are too many things to do and some of them are difficult to do, I enter a state of inaction.

I am here now.

It’s even quite difficult to write this post and I’ve been considering it for about half an hour.

I know the solution. The solution is to start something. But the starting is difficult because all the other things needing my attention are crowding my brain and won’t allow me to think straight on one thing.

I try very hard to put all the other things out of my mind. But they sneak back in, uncalled for, unwanted. And, before i know it, they are clamouring to be first, to be THE one, pushing aside the actual one – the one that I’m doing.

Take tomorrow. I have many things to do (aside from the things that will roll over from today – and trust me, there will be a few of them because each of those are also difficult). Some of the things for tomorrow, must be done in the morning. I can’t leave them because, possibly, next weekend, will be full. And by full I mean some yacht cruise thing on Saturday and then a trip to Udine for Sunday and Monday. Maybe. But I have to assume that F will say “yes” to those invitations. And so, the things that must be done tomorrow morning MUST be done. And then there is the afternoon where I have promised to help someone. And I shall probably have to help that someone on Sunday too. That’s fixed in that they will arrive at my place so I can’t put it off.

And, then there are the roll-over things from today plus the things that I should be doing this weekend as well, such as packing, brushing the dogs, supermarket shopping, laundry, etc., etc. In addition to which, there should be the sorting out of stuff prior to moving.

And the main thing that I’m supposed to be doing today is really difficult because I don’t have the answer and must find it. I’ve already tried several things that I’ve found but with no success which means delving deeper and trying to find different solutions. So, it’s a bugger really.

Not helped by my feeling like a rabbit frozen in front of the headlights of an oncoming car – knowing I must move but being unable to do so.

Add to this that the weather is quite nice now which is making me think of dog walking and beers at cafés and it’s not the recipe for success!

So, having written this, I will now start to try and do one of the many things to do.

Wish me luck!

Moving forward, slowly, slowly

Well, I suppose I’d better give a bit of an update whilst I’m waiting for our IT guy to update my Java thing and wait for the download of a website that’s been hacked which, I sincerely hope, I can then fix.

So, our final offer was accepted.

Tomorrow, F will go and get a draft version of the contract and we’ll look at it this weekend. Or, rather, he’ll look at it since it will be in Italian.

So, I’m guessing, next week we will sign and agree a date to move in (which will be either the end of June or the end of July, I think).

There will be lots to do and, probably, there will be no trips down to Carrara until after we move in which is a bit of a shame but it’s OK.

Also, on Friday, a guy will come to talk about recovering the sofas and chairs.

And I have to sort out my clocks.

And clear loads of things out before moving. And I’m incredibly busy with lessons, editing and other things in the meantime, so less time to do things and relax.

It’s all good fun, probably, isn’t it? Certainly, no time to worry about what it’ll be like AFTER we move, which is, absolutely, a good thing.

Still, one thing at a time ……

What is a camp hotel anyway? The best birthday present.

It wasn’t on purpose; I swear I had no idea but I managed to book us into the campest hotel I’ve ever been to in my life!

I should have had the idea when looking at the rooms over the Internet. They were, shall we say, Gothic, elaborate and immensely over-the-top. That was in the pictures. In real life, more so.

They did “dark”. The walls were black, the lighting subdued and yet, in the bedrooms, the lights by the side of the bed seemed to have come straight from Liberace’s house. Still, comfortable rooms, once you got used to the darkness of everything.

They offered us a drink, on the house, whilst we waited for the receptionist. We sat outside in the “garden” at the rear. The waiter was ever-so-slightly “gay”. The next table had a couple of ever-so-slightly gay people. And, of course, when I say “ever-so-slightly”, I mean really camp. It seemed like the whole place was heaving with gay people or that I had booked into an exclusively gay hotel!

And, as many of you who read my blog know, that’s not really my “cup of tea”.

However, the hotel was nice, the breakfasts (for me), reasonable, the bed comfortable and the position was good.

I say “good” except for one thing. It was under the flight path from the airport and they didn’t have double glazing and so at dark o’clock the next morning, I was woken up by aircraft accelerating out of the country. More or less, where I wanted to be.

But this particular morning was my birthday. And I wasn’t at home.

Of course, F texted me and then texted me later to tell me that we have got the flat! So that was nice. Well, nice and slightly terrifying too, as you know.

So, now, lots of things will have to be done and organised. I don’t mind that but, still, unlike other moves I’ve made, many more things must be sorted and many things thrown away or got rid of. I guess the next couple of months will be really, really busy!

And, then, of course, there will be the “living together”. But, I’m sure it will all be OK, more or less.

Won’t it?

Notes from a far-off country

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!

Awry!

You know how sometimes, everything seems to go a bit awry?

Well that’s how it is. I mean, it’s nothing major or really important, just little things that are annoying and involve trips to shops and buying some stuff.

So, it started last night. I got home from work and had to take the dogs out quickly and I noticed that my ultra-cheap shoes seemed a bit funny. Sure enough, the sole was coming apart. Of course, these are ultra-cheap and, so, don’t last. But, my thinking is that, if they last even 6 months, it’s still worth it. This is because I wear them to work and, somehow, all the shoes I wear to work quickly become tatty looking. Rather than spend a fortune on decent shoes, it seems better to spend next to nothing and throw them away once something goes wrong. In fact, even when a lace breaks, I’m almost inclined to bin them :-)

Anyway, this means going to buy new ultra-cheap shoes.

Then, I noticed my watch had stopped working. It needs a new battery is all – but that means I’ve got to find somewhere to get it done. Last time, the jewellers I went to wouldn’t do it and I ended up getting it done in Hereford Butter Market – so now I have to find a different jewellers here, in Milan.

Obviously, I checked my other watches and found about half of them needed new batteries.

See, I told you they were little things. It means Saturday will be busy. And, as my next post will show, there are a million and one other things to do too!

Plastic People

I am way, way over my head here.

And how different this was from the previous night!

I am introduced to various people, only one of whom I will remember – and that’s because we’re going to his wife’s shop (or, rather ex-shop) soon.

Eventually Si and I go to get a glass of prosecco and I manage to grab a small chocolate sweet from one of the waiters passing by who, until now have passed close to me but not close enough for me to grab anything and, anyway, seem to be moving through the room at something close to the speed of light. Most of the time, the ones that get close enough are carrying empty plates back.

The people around me speak mostly Italian and far too fast for me to understand. The men are dressed in suits with ties (no jeans) and the women have on their finest designer outfits and are all “beautiful” and “thin”.

This may be Design Week but one could be excused for confusing this with Fashion Week.

Si had only texted me when she had arrived at the shop (or, as we should now call them, Flagship Store.) Initially, I thought I’d say “no”. I was already tired from the night before but then I thought that I never really do these things and that I really should. What’s the point in living here if I don’t experience the “high life” once in a while. So I had rushed to change and to get there and I was now hot and bothered. She is dressed with a pink theme but doesn’t look out of place. I feel out of place since I have jeans, a casual white shirt (a little unusual – as is my wont) and a “suit-type” jacket.

After a little while we go to our next place. Si’s colleague, M’s wife used to own one of the most famous jewellers in Milan (apparently since I had never heard of them). We walk to the shop. On the way, in Via Montenapoleone (one of the main fashion streets in Milan), we pass their other shop. M goes over to say hello to someone there and then beckons us over. Apparently we should be going to this shop and not the other one. This shop, though, is not their historical main store but, rather, one that is exclusively for Rolex watches. In fact, I learn, this was the very first Rolex Flagship store in the world.

The party is in full swing. As for most places, there are people on the door checking if you are “on the list”. If you’re not “on the list” or know someone inside, you won’t get in. Of course, we are with the husband of the ex-owner (her cousin now owns it but she goes because it’s expected as she can meet and greet some of the long-term clients that will be there), so we get in.

Si seems very pleased with all this. She works in Marketing for a Luxury Brand (but not fashion) so there could be a tie-in.

Here the clientèle at the party are richer than the previous party. The men are not all in suites but, then, the crowd is older. I say older and that’s not entirely true. The men are older, some of the women are older but some are there because they’re not. However, there is so much plastic in the room – most women seem to have been under the knife, some with disastrous results (in my opinion.) There was fur; there were jewels; there was plastic – everywhere.

The shop is not that big but opulent would be a good word to use. The carpet thick, the wood special and lots of it and, of course, the watches. Now, personally, I really don’t like Rolex as a watch. Too much – I prefer simple watches – simple faces, preferably white or blue – even if mine are quite expensive (not as much as a Rolex though.)

The food was fantastic. They did little burgers that were so tasty (and, obviously NOT McDonald’s) and some proper Risotto Milanese. Si knew the chef (I’m not sure how she found that out) who is quite famous here, apparently and has a restaurant near Bergamo. Anyway, she mentioned something to one of the waiters and the next thing was that the chef came out to say hello to her – and me – and bearing another tray of the delightful mini burgers (just a mouthful each time – I had about 5!)

The shop had a “vertical” garden at the back, a roof terrace on the top floor and, on the same floor, a very large balcony that overlooked via Montenapoleone. Quite stunning.

It was all very nice but, to be honest, I preferred the previous night. There weren’t any real “designers” at these parties, just people who were to be “seen”.

I wasn’t way over my head because of the people so much as the fact that I don’t have the “culture” knowledge that they do. I mean, I know stuff but when people mention this designer or that artist, quite often I don’t have a clue who they are. Mostly I say I don’t know them. Sometimes, just because otherwise it gets boring, I say “Oh really?” – thank God they don’t ask too many questions.

Although, obviously, these people, especially at the Rolex shop, do move in a different world from me.

Still, it was all very nice and I’m glad I went but I did prefer the previous night where I got to meet “real” people rather than “plastic” people.

Design Week – the parties, the exhibitions, the fun of it all.

The weather is quite nice now. Not really hot but warm and then, in the evening, pleasant – but you need a light jacket or coat.

That was certainly one reason why, when I arrived, the place was heaving. In fact, I’ve never seen it so full.

Obviously, I know a lot of people now so it took us a while to get to a place to grab a drink. At the start, S hung on my coat tails but, after a while she relaxed.

The shop looked great and F had done a really good job although people would “touch” things and move them out of place and that irritates F. There were four stunningly nice chairs onn hooks on the large wall they have and on one of the bottom chairs, F had placed a bird (it was a theme). Some guy who looked like he had come straight from a Harry Potter film set as one of the teachers of the school – long, slightly crazy white hair, beard and glasses – had just reached up to the bird and dislodged it. We watched him as he tried to put it back on the chair. He couldn’t. He laid it on the chair and, with F seething, we watched him look around, trying to work out if someone had noticed. He looked and, almost certainly felt, very guilty.

We eventually got a drink from a roving waiter and picked up food as it came round. S was introduce to everyone that I talked to.

F told her she looked very elegant, as he does to almost all females. So, even today, all I am hearing is F said this; F said that!

Anyway, she loved it. She felt more special, I know. I remember when I used to feel like this all those years ago (before F). Now, I’m just interested in finding really nice people that I can become friends with. Not because I’m looking for friends, you understand, just because it’s nice meeting new people who are intelligent, funny, experienced and, with any luck, have something really interesting about them. Still, all the people that S met were, so she said, very nice. Of course, F was the best and she kept on about his trousers and how I should get some the same which, of course, I won’t, since I don’t really do trousers unless they are part of a suit!

We wandered about and chatted with all these people. Colleagues of F, friends of ours who came, other people that I know that are friends of F’s or his colleagues or used-to-be colleagues. Even our (my) old neighbour came.

At 8, people were still trying to get in and soon after they stopped people because they started to clean up. Si had arrived late and she and I stood outside; waiting for F who was polishing all the glass table and cabinet tops and resetting everything that had been touched and moved, ready for today. S left as she had her daughter to collect. But you could tell that she really wanted to come with us.

Then, we walked down to Via Tortona and a street that ran parallel. There were crowds and crowds of people and, as we commented later, it’s a nicer crowd during Design Week, more relaxed than during Fashion Week. Obviously, there were the people with the strange idea about dress – a little bit quirky or downright weird. But it is more casual, in general.

We met up with F’s best colleagues and visited some places that were open (most were open) including the studio of L’s sister, B who is very, very nice.

Everyone is “wowing” about the designs she does. I’m agreeing but inwardly thinking “Well, this is OK but I wouldn’t have it in my house”. But, of course, you can’t say that.

We did meet a 50-something dancer who has a one-room flat in London, speaks very good English and has just opened a dance studio here in Milan. She might also design jewellery. She might have been quite interesting to get to know but it was late and I was tired and we were about to go to Bar §Basso. I’m sure that I’ll meet her again – if it’s meant to be.

And then a taxi to Bar Basso. Si, who is more like F’s age, seemed genuinely “excited” about the whole thing and the atmosphere at Bar Basso because it was “very International”.

Then we went home.

Also, the people who own the potential new flat are very interested in us taking the flat but want us to come closer to the asking price.

We go this evening to update our offer :-)

How excited are we?

Well, it seems, very excited.

Bordering on hysterical.

Now, when I say “we”, I don’t actually mean “we” as in F & me. I mean my colleague, S.

She is a bit “snobby”. Not in a horrible way, of course, but she does like to think of herself as better than she is. More elegant, more beautiful, etc. I find it funny, to be honest.

Anyway, it’s the Furniture Fair in Milan this week and F’s shop has a display of some furniture, the fabric for which was designed by the designer (of the clothes, obviously). And there is a kind of small “party” which is really just an aperitivo, tonight. I am going, of course and, as F requested, invited certain people (it means that the shop will be full and that’s always good). There will be prosecco and the event is catered with some very nice “finger food” and there are waiters mingling to hand out this finger food. I go because F wants me to go and he can introduce me to English people and I can talk to them, which he likes.

Anyway, amongst the people I invited was S, my colleague. I knew she would like to be invited and half expected her to say no but, instead, she said yes. What the hell, I thought. She almost certainly knows of the existence of F (being quite good friends with some people that know of F here, at work) and I’m sure she is being just slightly nosy. But, in addition, it is a party with, for her, the glamour of Milan fashion and, so, something to be seen at.

However, I wasn’t expecting the reaction we have so far – she is wearing something but has bought a dress to change in to if I thought what she was wearing wasn’t good enough!

As I’ve tried to explain, this is just a small party in the shop. It’s not really something you have to wear a cocktail dress or evening gown to. It starts at 6.30 and will be all over by 8!

However, she is VERY excited. and a little bit apprehensive, which surprises me.

So, we shall see. The “tension” will be mounting throughout the day. Probably.