Category Archives: Experiences

Maybe this will be the last year?

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“If my brother won’t do anything I don’t want to come here any more!”

He goes on to say that the beach place is expensive (which it is) and that he wants to be able to leave stuff in the house without it being moved or other junk being placed (or thrown?) in there all over the place.

I don’t say anything. What can I say? It’s not my house and not my family and not my home town. I don’t have any rights. But I am a little disappointed. But I don’t think he means it, really. I think it’s just frustration coming out. He’s coming down later next weekend, on the Saturday, and then staying a few extra days to do a proper clean and get the grass cut, etc.

I asked if he was going to try and get quotes for the work to be done. He said he wouldn’t have time. As I said to him, I was only asking – it really wasn’t a dig, just conversation.

But, in the event, he is getting the husband of an old friend to come over and give a quote – after the dogs and I have left.

In the meantime, I have finished another two books. This is not quite a book a weekend but quite close.

The first that I finished (weekend before last) was the one I really wanted to read above all, that is, Wolf Hall by Hilary Mantel. And it was good. Absorbing and interesting and, of course, about Tudor times which, to us Brits, was the real “Golden Age” even if the reality was something very different. Now I have to get the next one, Bring Up The Bodies, of course.

Then, FfI lent me a book she said was really good. Which I read, mostly, last weekend and finished it on the Sunday afternoon. Now, I’ve read one of this guy’s books before. And there’s a thing about gay fiction. It’s at once interesting for me and boring as hell. Edmund White is, I suppose, the biggest name in gay fiction and, on the cover, it had some good quotes from famous writers.

But, for me, it leaves something to be desired. It’s not quite as brilliant as it had been made out. And, although the storyline was quite good, the last chapter was a complete let down – as if he’d HAD to finish it and didn’t really know what to write – and so he did it in a hurry. The book was “Jack Holmes and his Friend” and, personally, I wouldn’t recommend it.

In addition, I finally got a book that I should have ordered a couple of years ago. It’s by a friend of a friend and, I think, is self-published (which, to be honest, doesn’t bode well). Still, I’m supposed to recognise some of the characters. We shall see. I don’t think it will be my “next book” but we shall see. The book is “Quinn’s Way” by Steve Gray. As far as I know, it’s his only book. Well, I’ve bought it now and, at the rate I’m going through the books I did buy, I will need it.

But, next, I’m thinking of Dickens. That should slow me down a bit because it’s not really “light” reading although I do like Dickens and his stories and descriptions are always good.

The weather is getting hotter and hotter. The forecast for this weekend (in Milan) is somewhere near 37°C – which is very, very hot. Luckily, for much of it, we shall be by the sea, where it will be considerably cooler (I can’t believe I’ve just written “luckily”!!!!!) and much better for the dogs.

And it’s less than two weeks till the holidays :-)

This weekend

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I’ve spent the last three weekends in Carrara – enjoying the sunshine on the beach, eating at F’s parents or the sagra, taking the (very excited) dogs to the pineta, relaxing.

But this coming weekend is different. This coming weekend, we are going together. F will be there too. And the difference is immeasurable and, for the first time, I am really excited about going down.

We may have breakfast at the café in Marina di Carrara where the cakes (fro breakfast) are particularly nice. Certainly we shall share the dog walking. Then there will be someone to talk to on the beach (not that I don’t talk to anyone – but almost everyone speaks only Italian so the conversations are much shorter.) And we shall be together, which I really enjoy.

The only downside is that, after working so very hard for so many weeks it is likely that F will get some ailment – which often happens the moment that he stops working. Ah well. At least he will be relaxing a bit.

So, for the first time this year, we shall be going down to Carrara together. The car will be clean (obviously), the dogs are brushed and we will leave, more or less, at 5 p.m. on Friday – which also means pizza with asparagus and lardo (for me). Yay!

Driving in Italy – part 945 – actually, driving anywhere, not just here. It’s “holiday” time :-(

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It should be great.

In some ways, it is.

There are, for example, no problems finding somewhere to park. There are always some places around my flat. Not that I have too many problems anyway but, sometimes, a space takes a bit of finding. But not now. Now that people are away because the school kids are off.

There is, without doubt, less traffic on the roads. This can be great and, sometimes, I can be home within half an hour.

When we are down in Carrara, now, people are driving around like they are on holiday. I.e. slowly and seemingly unaware that there are any other cars on the road. One expects people to slow, turn off or completely stop without any warning. One expects someone who is looking for a car parking space near the beach to drive as if they own the road. I don’t get upset with it – after all, I’m on holiday too!

However, it seems that a lot of the drivers left in Milan think that they’re on holiday too! One guy this morning was driving at 30 Kph on a straight bit of road. In the end, after I overtook him (or, rather, undertook him), he followed me for some way – so he wasn’t even looking for somewhere to park!

Last night, driving near my house, the lights were green and there was a good chance we would get through. Instead the guy in front slowed down, pointing out some building to his passenger. I tooted my horn to get, from him, the sign (see this post I put up a few days ago) saying “What do you want?”

However, he then put his foot down a bit and we got through.

But it’s very annoying!!!! Sometimes, like this morning, getting to work takes just as long as in the winter – and with at least 50% less traffic!

Bloody holiday drivers. Grrrrrr.

Am I going to look like I’ve got some dread disease, or not?

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One of the banes of living (or holidaying) in Italy are the mosquitoes. They arrive sometime in May (generally – this year they were a bit late as it was so cold) and keep going through until August/September.

To be honest, as the years go by, I am less affected by them than most but, still, they are a pain in the neck or wherever else they bite.

But, to know whether you should be taking a bottle of spray or 10 with you, you can check out the level of infestation here, at a site sponsored by a mosquito repellent producer.

Happy repelling :-)

No, it happened after I left, of course!

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Can you believe it? I missed it …….. again! And everyone at work has been asking as most of them knew I would be there.

Now, some of you or, more probably, all of you will think this is a good thing and, probably, had I been there, I would be thinking the same but, as I wasn’t there, I feel like I missed out.

I heard about it about 2 hours after I left. Apparently, again, people were “fleeing the beach” at the Marina – where I had been just 2 hours before.

Getting burnt. I had put cream on – a spray cream that I bought especially because F was not there to put some on my back. With this I could spray my back. I put some all over because the sun, even at about 9.45 a.m. was strong and there wasn’t a cloud in sight, unlike the day previously when, after about 3 hours on the beach, I gave up since I was shivering and the few people that were there had towels wrapped round them to shield from the cold. It reminded me of a beach in the UK!

So, I put cream on – even on my legs. It was factor 30 – so not nothing. I lay in the sun but got bored and, so, sat up to read. I did, at one point, later in the afternoon realise that my knees had got a bit cooked and also the tops of my feet. I moved into the shade of the umbrella.

However, by the time I got home to take a shower, I was nicely (?) burnt. Down the outside of one leg and the inside of the other. And, of course, the tops of my feet.

But I guess the cream had some effect since it didn’t really hurt. Much.

The trip down was a bit longer than expected with a couple of accidents and, because of them, long queues. But I took it easy – not driving like a maniac. When we reached the motorway that runs along the coast, the windows were open and Dino was sniffing the air as if remembering the smell (although I didn’t smell anything particular – but, then, I’m not a dog) but when we came off the motorway, he got much more excited. Heavy sniffing (sounds almost pornographic!) out of each window. Oh, yes, he knew where he was alright.

The whole weekend was barely contained excitement for him. The trips to the dog area in the pineta, the trips back, the food, the house – everything. In fact, the excitement was so barely contained that he was, almost, excited all the time. Piero less so but even he remembered the way to go to places – the pineta, the walk after playing.

The nice thing about dogs is that they are easily pleased.

And I finished the first of my books – Cat’s Eye by Margaret Atwood. If I’m honest, I really do like her books that aren’t the usual science fiction/fantasy stuff. It was good and, as always, well written.

I was late up on Saturday. Thank goodness F wasn’t with me or you can be certain I would have been woken earlier. Then I found only one of my beach sandals. I hunted for the other one but couldn’t find it. So I went to buy a pair since I didn’t want to use my leather ones for the beach. I, wrongly, went to Esselunga first (thinking it was Carrefour.) As I came out (with nothing), I heard someone calling my name. It was Fr, an old school friend of F’s. she had a stall in Carrara that evening in the “Marble Weeks” event. She said I should go. I said I would see.

Then I went to Carrefour and managed to find my way (which itself was something of a miracle). I found some. It didn’t really matter what they looked like – they just couldn’t be flip flops as my feet can’t take them – within seconds the place between my big toe and the next becomes red-raw.

Then I came back to the house because, apparently, the towels were there. I found them. Then I went to the beach. The sun was shining through thin cloud, the wind was cool but when it clouded over later, the wind took any heat away.

Saturday night was dinner with F’s parents. I brought some ice-cream. Well, you can’t really go there with nothing, can you?

They were lovely of course. And did too much food, of course. it was too much food even if F had been there. We talked and, more or less, we had a decent conversation.

There was “interesting” moment when, on the news (for the television is on in the kitchen, where we eat, during the meals) there was a report about the first gay marriages that happened in California after the recent ruling by some court in the US that the marriage of gays was legal. It was interesting because I wondered if they would say anything to me. They didn’t although F’s mum gave a dismissive wave of the hand as she walked to get ready for bingo (Saturday being one of her “bingo nights”).

I didn’t go to Carrara. For one thing I was quite tired, I didn’t want to wake up late, I had no jacket and I knew it would be colder in Carrara itself and, finally, I didn’t really want to go by myself. Maybe I shall go next week, if it’s still on.

I was at the beach reasonably early, having done the pineta with the dogs followed by the walk. I had my coffee and pastry at the beach and settled down for the day. F’s sister and niece came to say hello and I said hello to everyone when I left at about 3.30.

I went home, cleaned up a bit and we set off.

Nothing remarkable had happened until I was around Parma when the news said there had been another earthquake had happened and people were fleeing the beach at Marina di Carrara. Damn! That was my first thought. If I had been there I would have taken video – maybe. Of course, after the first few moments I expect (indeed, hope) I would be fleeing too. After all, the dogs would be at the house and I would want to make sure they were OK.

Anyway, I missed it again. But I’m sure, in this seismic country, there will be other occasions.

Going to an Earthquake Zone?

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You may or may not have heard about the earthquakes that have been occurring in the Apuan Alps.

And, even if you had, you may not have thought much about it.

But, let me explain that Carrara, where F has his house and where we spend the summer, is overlooked by the Apuan Alps. In fact, Carrara is partly up the mountains. Where we actually go is the coast – but we’re talking a few miles.

So, Marina di Carrara, Avenza and Massa di Carrara have all felt the earthquakes quite a lot and, according to one newspaper, yesterday, people were fleeing from the beach at Marina di Carrara – which is where we have our umbrella.

And, next weekend, I shall be going there. F is working but we have the umbrella and he wants me to go as, otherwise, it doesn’t really make so much sense to take the umbrella for the whole season (as it’s not exactly cheap) and then only use it for a couple of weeks.

And, with the idea of fleeing the beach, I thought, initially that that was not such a clever thing to do. Of course, in different circumstances, I would stay – however, in my circumstances I would be racing back to the house. Not for me, you understand, but because Dino and Piero would be there and I would be worried for them and, most likely, they would be frightened.

So, let’s hope the aftershocks are all finished by next weekend.

p.s. the title is a bit misleading since the whole of Italy is an Earthquake Zone!

Am I dreaming or what?

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Everything just seems “not quite right”.

I’m not going to be able to explain this very well.

If, at all!

The alarm goes off. I had already woken almost an hour earlier. F had opened the window and turned the fan off. He is Italian and drafts are like some black magic. Drafts make you ill and can, probably, kill you. Therefore the fan, excused by the need for the dogs to keep cool, had been left on for a few nights. But the weather has “broken”. It’s not so hot (although still hot by British standards). Therefore we can now turn the fan off. Personally, we could keep the fan going all summer – however, not for him.

Instead the window is open although the shutters are drawn.

But Friday is bin day. The bins from the apartment block have to be put outside. The guy comes around 5.30 a.m. to do this. He is noisy but it’s not so bad if the windows are closed – open he might as well be dragging them past the bottom of the bed!

I wake up. And then it’s difficult to get back to sleep with all the noise and so I get up and close the windows.

So, back to where we were. The alarm goes off. I feel like I’ve been drinking the night before – which I had, of course. With A. And I promised not to blog about it, so I won’t.

Anyway, that’s not the point.

Unusually, instead of turning the alarm to “snooze” mode, giving me an extra five minutes (not of sleep, of course, since I am always worried that, inadvertently, instead of pressing snooze, I have pressed “dismiss”), I get up.

It’s all a bit sudden. And all a bit early. And, for some reason, it’s all quite wrong as if I have forgotten something.

I go to the kitchen and switch the coffee machine on. This is normal and, yet, it doesn’t feel quite normal.

It’s as if I am not quite in my body and yet I am still controlling it. It is just taking a bit if effort.

I go to the bathroom to shave. I am doing the normal things without thinking and, yet, I am having to think. I am having to make myself and my limbs and my fingers do things. Obviously, I know HOW to make them do things but this morning I am having to concentrate to get them to do anything.

And, yet, they seem, sometimes, to be doing things on their own, as if I am, in fact, not needed nor indeed part of the act.

I shave, shower and get partly dressed and then I go back to the kitchen to press the button to make the espresso pour into the cup below the nozzle and press the switch so the steam can pressurise to make the frothy milk.

I return to the bathroom to dry my hair.

I wonder if I should wake F up. He had said, earlier in the week, that today he would get up at 6.30. But there is something in my head saying that we had a conversation last night and he told me that it was not necessary now because “someone else was going to do it”. Whatever “it” was that he was going to do.

Except that I’m not sure if I had the conversation with him or not.

I weigh up the possibility that I had, in fact, just dreamed that we had the conversation. Was it real or not? Should I wake him to check or not?

But part of me is certain that the conversation was real and not a dream.

And, in my partial, out-of-body-experience state even thinking is by extreme effort.

But something is wrong.

I can feel it in the pit of my stomach. That sort of achy, butterflies thing. As if you’re going for an interview. I push myself forward and do the milk.

Perhaps, actually, I am dreaming. Except this cannot be a dream because everything is real. And, yet, I know that in a dream everything feels real so who knows?

I sit and have my coffee, reading the web pages that I normally read – doing the things that I normally do but with this very uneasy feeling that I should be doing something else. Or maybe that something is about to happen? It’s not exactly a feeling of dread although it isn’t pleasant.

For sure, something is wrong.

I realise I am going to be a little late abut I am finding it hard to motivate myself to move. Much as now, I am finding it hard to motivate my self to type. To think. To do anything.

Yet I do get up and wash up and clean my teeth and gel my hair and go back to the kitchen to put my shoes on. Piero comes to say “hello” and I give him a stroke.

I leave the flat. As I reach the internal courtyard, I light up my cigarette. It’s not the first this morning, of course. I’ve already had the usual three. As I walk towards the door of the building I feel for the car key in the bunch in my hand. But the keys are different – lighter – and missing the car key because, actually, these are F’s keys. Damn! I KNEW I should have changed them last night.

The lift is at the bottom. I take the lift to my floor and go in and swap keys.

I reach the car and get in. It still doesn’t feel quite right. I am worried that, at some point, I shall lose my ability to control my limbs which is still taking some effort. I am still not wholly inside my body but neither am I outside of it.

I drive to work. Things seem to be “in my way”. I try to concentrate on driving like you do when you’re a little drunk. You know? When everything requires you to do something that normally you “just do”. But I’m not drunk. This is the same and not the same. I feel like I’m going to have an accident. Like some sort of premonition.

This feeling of an almost impending doom won’t go away. No, something is most certainly not right.

And I still have it. Not quite so bad as this morning but, all the same, it’s still here.

So, there you have it.

Not explained at all well but I just can’t seem to put my finger on it.

Can’t wait ’till I’m home. Thank goodness it’s Friday.

Dino, the vet and taking temperatures.

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The exchange went something like this:

“Dino did diarrhoea this morning and there was blood in it. Please take him to the vet”
“OK”
“If you can’t do it then I will do it”

Hmmmm. The thing is that he is VERY busy right now with the showroom sales starting on Monday. And then, because he will be involved in the showroom sales, he will be even busier.

So this was not a “I can help by taking him for you” – instead, this was a “I will take him if you don’t but I will make you suffer for it because I am far too busy to take time off work to take him”.

I’m not stupid.

Even if his understanding of English is not always so clear, the underlying meaning to this is flashing lights and ringing bells.

I ring the vet. Yes, bring him along but before 5 o’clock.

Which means that I have to leave work early.

Apparently, I have done everything right, so far. His temperature is taken. It is 38.6°C. It should not be higher than 39°C – so he is fine.

He has an injection of antibiotics for the stomach. Red blood, apparently, is common (although I knew that) it’s the black blood you’ve got to be worried about. Starving them (for a day) is perfect for diarrhoea and not to worry too much if it’s still not perfect. It is, after all, exceedingly warm (we’re getting highs of about 34°C at the moment with minimums, overnight of the low 20s.)

So, nothing to worry about.

Of course, I had also been a little bit worried – but not as much as him – so to find out that everything is really OK makes me feel better and I’m not too upset that I took him. It’s nice to know that all is OK.

Anyway, the weather is about to “half break” – i.e. it’s about to get a bit cooler and, maybe, we will have some thunderstorms. It’s likely to be under the 30s for most of next week.

I was advised by the vet that, if I get worried again, I should take his temperature myself. So, as well as some pills recommended by the vet, I go to the chemist later and buy a thermometer.

Later that evening, we go for a drink in Polpetta with An, his friend. I tell him that I have bought a thermometer and that I have written “DOG ONLY” on every surface of the box – to ensure we don’t get it mixed up with ours.

He is very excited. He wants to try to take the temperature. He thinks you just put it in the dogs mouth – this makes me laugh. However, good the dogs are, telling them to close their mouths and wait for a few minutes is very unlikely to work. Especially in this heat where they are panting most of the time.

I explain how their temperature is taken. He still wants to do it. He is quite crazy.

Weather extremes ………….. and Dino

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A few weeks ago (in the first week of June), travelling to work, I looked up from the road to the Alps (well, not the high Alps but the lower Alps – just really big hills really) – and saw snow on the tops of them.

In all the years I have been here, I have never before seen snow on those hills/mountains in June. But, it was cold. And, by cold I mean it hardly made it above 15°C during the day. And it had been raining a lot and, really, felt more like winter.

Then we went down to Calabria for the wedding. The Thursday was cool and about 18°C but, thank goodness, the day of the wedding dawned bright, clear and warm.

And that was the change.

From 7th June, it went from feeling like winter to feeling like mid-summer.

Now we are in the 30s with the temperature “dropping” at night to a hardly cool 22°C.

Obviously (or obvious if you know me), I am delighted with this.

Except for one thing.

Dino.

I am a bit worried about Dino. I’m not sure if it’s because of the sudden change but he seems to be suffering a little too much over the last few days. I mean, we’ve gone from almost winter to summer – full on and full blast, so to speak. Normally, he’d have a few months to acclimatise. But this year, no.

So, now I’m looking at ways to try and keep him cooler.

We shall shut the shutters in the bedroom (leaving the windows open) as the sun beats down there from about 11 a.m.
We are giving him cool water baths.
The fan is on.
I shall make some ice-cubes to put in their water.
I might fill their dog bed (which is plastic) with some water so they can put their paws in.

As a last resort, I may go and buy one of those portable air conditioners which we can put in the lounge to keep that room cool.

Obviously, as you may be able to tell, I am a bit concerned.

Anyway, this heat doesn’t normally come until the end of June or, more likely, July. Maybe it’s because we seem to have gone from winter to summer bypassing spring that is the problem.

Should’ve, would’ve, could’ve? Yeah, right!

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The problem with violence depicted on film and TV is that it desensitises us to real violence and death.

The killing of Lee Rigby was a case in point. The advent of mobile phone cameras allows us to see the aftermath and not be particularly shocked by the footage on the basis that we’ve seen much worse in films. Don’t get me wrong, it was a terrible thing – but the video itself was hardly shocking in itself. It could have been the scene of a badly shot film.

So, too, we seem to become desensitised to the runnings of those in power. We’ve all seen the Matrix, haven’t we? The Net. James Bond, etc. We know how the Governments and their spying agencies work. After all, it makes for exciting films.

And so we come to Prism. Sounds like title for a film anyway, doesn’t it?

We understand that the US Government, by way of it’s spying agencies such as the FBI, have been collecting a load of data on almost everyone. Instead of being horrified we are saying “Well, what did you expect?”.

Let’s not get this out of perspective. Governments and powerful individuals and organisations have been doing this for centuries. Those of you from the UK will have seen the Tudors and read the books of the Tudor period when it was well known that letters were intercepted and read and eavesdropping was commonplace.

And, of course, if the letters and conversations were innocent, then there was nothing to fear. Was there?

Well, yes and no. History, it is said, is written by the victors. WWII has the Germans as the bad guys. But, of course, had Germany won the war, history would be different.

And now, you will notice that all the whistle blowers of recent times have, within days, been portrayed as bad, mad or just plain vicious. It has always been so. Mary I was portrayed as either a wicked woman or a bit stupid. But, I’m guessing that, had she had a successful marriage and had children, history would show her in a different light.

But, the justification by the FBI for the Prism stuff is amazing.

I read this:

[They claim] such programs could have foiled the 9-11 terrorist attacks and would prevent “another Boston”.

Erm, excuse me. The Prism thing has been happening for a number of years. One has to ask, why didn’t it prevent the Boston thing in the first place? The argument that it “would prevent” just doesn’t hold water. And, in any event, if someone wanted to do something, there will be a way to do it.

But, of course, we are all compliant in this thing now. We’ve read the books and seen the films. We aren’t up in arms because we already knew all about it. We say “Tut tut” and carry on with our lives in a society that seems to become more Fascist/Communist by the day.

But, Mr FBI man, please don’t think that we are all as stupid as you like to think. “Would prevent another Boston”? Well, maybe. But let’s see when the next atrocity happens, shall we? I’m sure you’ll be explaining why, in that particular case, all this data didn’t actually help.

Sometimes, I’m grateful that I’m old now.

Anyway, the title of the post made me think of this great song. One of my all time favourites. Enjoy but remember that they know you’re watching ;-)


Beverley Knight – Shoulda Woulda Coulda