Category Archives: Experiences

Books 5 and 6

Posted on by
Reply

20 – 22/8

The Thirteenth Tale by Diane Setterfield.

Books, to me, are like films. Films that last a few days rather than a couple of hours.

With both films and books, I “lose” myself whilst I become involved, encapsulated into the story. I love both but, with exception of some films, books provide a greater satisfaction. Except, I do like a more “open” ending.

I really don’t want a book to “finish”. And they lived happy ever after is not for me. I want a book that is like a dream or a nightmare where the end is left hanging so that I can decide, based on my mood, what should happen next.

So, I start this latest book and find it is (at the moment) about reading. About the joys of reading. About the smells and the requirements for good books.

And I wonder why I was never really involved in “books” at some level.

The book was good but, given the ending, I think that, probably, I am in the minority when it comes to ending. It seems most people like to have the ends tied up with a neat bow.

Although the ending to this one (with one small exception) was not really ‘happy ever after’ and so it scraped through into the reasonable catalogue, in my brain.

Now I have started Visibility by Boris Starling.

So that’ll be book 6 then. In fact, as F is not here, I took book 5 home and finished it last night. After all, I wasn’t going anywhere and, after dinner, it’s nice to read with a glass of wine. The only problem is, now, that dusk falls too early and I had to finish reading indoors – even if it was really to hot to be inside!

Interestingly because here, in Italy, it seems twins are everywhere (I have NEVER seen so many twins as here), both books 5 and 6 include twins.

Maybe more on that later.

I am not a child

Posted on by
8

You would think that, at some point in your life, you would grow up. I wonder what it takes? I wonder what it is for others to be “grown up”?

I am not incapable and, as an adult of some advanced years, I can DO things. It’s not as if I’m helpless.

And yet ……

I dropped him at the station. We were early. Of course we were early. For he is worse than me when it comes to public transport.

“I will wait with you”, I had said.

But no, it was not necessary.

“But I can help you with your suitcase. Lift it onto the train for you. With your bad back, it will be better.”

“And who will help me in Milan”, he said, dismissing my argument.

I tried to suggest that, by me helping here and after over 3 hours relaxing on the train, he would, maybe, have a better back. But it came out mumbled and wrong. I was incoherent putting my clear thoughts into words that he would understand.

I offered to stay a few more times but he was having none of it. And my arguments were weak.

He stopped the car and got out, opening the boot. I got out and got his suitcase out.

“Are you sure you wouldn’t like me to wait with you?”, I asked.

No, I should get back and go to the beach. There was, apparently, no reason for me to stay.

“I would wait with you because I love you”.

There, finally said. The only reason. He kisses me on the lips.

And then he walks away.

And every time he’s not there leaves a hole as if I’m not quite whole without him.

I drive back and, suddenly, everything I do in this strange and foreign land is a battle, something where I must force myself into action.

When I get back home, Dino looks past me as I open the door. Looks past me to F, who isn’t there. It’s as if I’m not quite good enough, as if it’s all not quite complete. Which, of course, it isn’t. And Dino knows that well enough.

I come to the beach. People greet me as I come or, later, as I’m sitting here, reading my book or typing this, as they come.

But it’s not the same.

Tonight I have some leftovers from our lunch at his Mum and Dad’s (our first meal there this holiday – but that’s another post) and I have wine and the dogs.

He has suggested that I take a walk to the centre of the town (and, yet, here it’s not a town – more like a really large village or a suburb – even if there’s a castle tower in the centre) with the dogs, like we often do, and buy an ice-cream and take them for a while in the newly discovered and rather nice dog area.

But these things frighten me. Not so that I won’t do it but enough to make it doubtful. For there I will have to interact and I don’t have his charm or style. Or language, of course.

If I were about 5, I am sure I would wail and howl with this feeling of abandonment, with this feeling of being so alone.

But that’s quite stupid, as I well know. I can get by. I can walk the dogs this evening and get and ice-cream. But it all takes such an effort and such resolve by me to do even the simplest thing.

Without him.

And yet ……

I am not a child.

A trip to Pietrasanta and back to the Garden

Posted on by
4

My forecast says that, in about an hour, it will be 35 degrees C but it will feel like 41!

In fact, I suspect it is more since, this morning, on our way to Pietrasanta to meet Lola and G, many of the displays outside chemists were already suggesting it to be 34 degrees.

For certain, it is VERY hot but, whichever way you look at it, it’s much, much better than being cold – well, unless you are F, of course.

I have forced the dogs to come outside in the garden. They weren’t keen to leave the house – which is the first time I can remember. But it is equally cool (or, rather, slightly less hot) at the back of the house, which remains in shade all day. There is the chance of a small breeze outside, from time to time.

And it is peaceful.

And, I am British, so outside when the weather is nice is a “must” – which, to be honest, is not Italian.

We had a nice (though smallish) lunch in Pietrasanta with Lola and G and the dogs.

Lola is getting a new dog tomorrow so is very excited. And, in September/October, we shall go to their place so the puppies can play in their garden – which will be lovely. I would tell you the type of dog but can’t as I have been sworn to secrecy by G. However, it’s a fantastic dog and I think Lola will be very happy even if it’s not going to be like Duick.

Now I am alone with the dogs whilst F goes to get his hair cut.

It’s perfect weather for a nice glass of cold wine or beer so, once I’ve posted that, I think I will be drinking just that.

Enjoy your weekend.

What it’s all about

Posted on by
Reply

Holidays are for relaxing, unwinding and doing what you want. I’m doing a lot of reading this holiday. It’s one of those pleasures I have with not being near a computer. I have the phone, sure, but it’s not the same.

This year, however, I have not read my usual book – Blind Assassin but a few books from my bookcase that I never got round to reading or that were recentish presents..

One of the books that I finished a few days ago was The Beach. I didn’t really want to read it, having seen the film and thought it was a bit pretentious. But I’ve read it now anyway. I got it given to me from someone leaving Milan, I think.

As usual, the book was far superior to the film and it all makes much more sense now.

The other book I really wasn’t crazy about reading was Vernon God Little. It’s a bit like 50 Shades of Grey or The Da Vinci Code – I don’t mean the story nor, God forbid, the atrocious writing, I mean as in one of those that everyone has read. In this case, however, apart from the end, which, to me, really spoilt the whole story, the book was, well, interesting. I doubt if I would re-read either of them but they turned out OK in the end.

I have also read “Old Age and How to Survive it” – an amusing book given to me by Best Mate. And I can now say – old age, bring it on :-)

I am currently reading “the Various Haunts of Men” – a complete change from the others as it is a thriller. It’s very good and hard to put down.

Luckily, I have another 4 books to go and, although I probably won’t read them all, as F goes back to Milan on Sunday, I may get through a couple.

And I have found it so nice to be able to read. To have the time for reading. Damned computers that take up (and waste) so much time!

Piero makes a break for it!

Posted on by
Reply

Piero is growing fast. Now he is half the height of Dino. He is also getting more mischievous.

Take this morning. F took them to the pinetta and let me sleep for an extra hour. Then we got ready to come to the beach. Piero was, as usual, outside. This time he was round the back of the house, discovering some new thing, something new to chew or somewhere colder than elsewhere.

It was nearly time to go. I walked round to the back and could see him the other side of the low wall, tucked in by the back fence.

I called him. He pricked up his ears. After another couple of calls, he got up and came trotting towards me. Dino had appeared by now and so they followed me back round to the front. Dino went ahead up the (marble) steps and I followed. I got to the door and looked behind me. Piero had got halfway up the steps but, realising that we were going inside, paused.

I noticed that he half turned and knew it was because he didn’t want to come in and went to get him. He turned full circle and bounded down the steps.

Luckily for me, he headed for the gate so I got him but it’s only a matter of time before he realises that his best bet is to head towards the back where he will be more difficult to get.

I can see us now, running round the garden with him thinking it’s a great game!

Woof Woof Sands

Posted on by
2

Today, as it was cloudy, was the day for bau bau beach.

Bau bau is what young kids get told are dogs, much like we say ‘doggy’. Bau bau is also the Italian for woof woof or bow bow, being the noise a dog makes when it barks.

We took them to the pinetta first so that they would be tired. They were definitely tired – just not tired enough, it seems.

Actually, bau bau beach is one of the free beaches – i.e. one doesn’t have to pay. But you don’t get any facilities – like a bar, tables, a cabin, loungers or umbrellas.

Except, for €15 per season, you can use one of the loungers and one umbrella (that you must put up yourself).

Unlike a normal free beach, however, on this one you can take dogs.

It was Piero’s first time. He wasn’t keen on the water but, as it was the only way to get to some other dogs, he went in.

Dino wouldn’t go in further than his belly – until we threw a stick in. Then he went to retrieve it. Dino’ hair is short now so getting wet made no difference. Piero has never had his hair cut so when he got wet, he looked so skinny and drowned!

We did the paddling/swimming thing a few times and then went to sit under our umbrella for a bit. Piero found his voice. He wanted to be with a couple of border collies that were playing on the shore and, sometimes, swimming in to retrieve a ball that was thrown out for them. Piero didn’t like not being part of it so barked – a LOT!

But it was good fun for a few hours.

Then we took them to the pinetta again and then had breakfast (it being nearly 12.30). After doing some supermarket shopping we tidied up the garden a bit.

F is now having a bath, after which is dinner – stuffed tomatoes, watermelon and fruit salad.

Today was the dogs’ day. They are exhausted. And so am I!

Social or Anti

Posted on by
2

I don’t know why but during the weekend I kept thinking of my parents. Well, not thinking of them, exactly, but rather how much they wouldn’t like this. This thing that I do now.

I always thought that I would never pay to go onto a beach. But I used to hate carrying everything. Not that I actually carried everything, of course, but as I was the eldest, it was always more. And, instead of setting up camp near the entrance to the beach, we always had to go where there was no one else. Which meant walking on the beach. And walking. And walking. Laden as we were with deckchairs and windbreaks and costumes and food. And walking until I thought I would die. Or felt I would die. Or wanted to die with shame and embarrassment.

Even when we arrived at what seemed to be the furthest possible location, it wasn’t finished. For there was the setting up of the windbreak, the deck chairs, the changing into costumes, one at a time, using this thing that my Mum had fashioned out of, what seemed to be some sort of toweling but was almost like a curtain – but a very ugly curtain, with elastic at the top or drawstrings or something so that it covered you from the neck down. I absolutely HATED changing on the beach.

Then there was the food. We were a family of 6 so there was a lot of food. Sandwiches made that morning, sausage rolls made last week and kept in tupperware, rock cakes, hard boiled eggs. And other stuff.

It all seemed such a palaver.

But, being 6, I guess they couldn’t afford to go to restaurants and we didn’t have burger places then – except Wimpy, which was dreadful (not that the burger places now are much good). I understand now and I think I understood then.

That doesn’t mean I liked it. I didn’t. I HATED it. I hated everything about it. It’s like we were some sort of tribe, invading the beach. But with the embarrassment of it all I was, kind of, glad that we weren’t near other people. But they seemed to hate it when other people came near. If someone pitched up near to us they would complain and ask (themselves) why the person had to park themselves so close to us.

And, on reflection, perhaps that is one of the reasons I find it hard to socialise, in general. I wasn’t brought up to socialise, I guess.

Of course, in the early evening (unless the weather was not so good) we had to reverse all this. Packing away the food left-overs, uprooting the windbreak and rolling it up, collapsing the deckchairs. Getting changed again using the stupid and hateful changing robe thing. And then carrying the whole lot back to the car.

However, now, I love the fact that we just go to the beach. We take towels. We take personal stuff. But we don’t have to take deckchairs or food or an umbrella or a windbreak. It’s not a 6-mile hike to the spot we have. Of course, there are people always nearby. It’s not like we can hide away. And because F is from there and so are many people on the beach and that we share an umbrella with another couple (who only come for about an hour), you can’t really NOT talk to anyone.

But it’s nice.

And, coming back to the point, a lifetime away from anything my parents would have done.

I am not 20

Posted on by
Reply

Personally, I think it was the last mojito that did it. After all, it wasn’t a mojito at all but, rather than rum, was something else entirely.

I was, as said by one of the characters in the Fast Show, Rowley Birkin QC, and shown below, very, very drunk.

Of course, I didn’t go out with the intention of ending up completely wasted. No, no. It was just a meal out with friends. We didn’t even start off by drinking much. OK so an aperitivo at the bar we all met up in. And, I suppose, I did drink most of E’s drink since she didn’t like it.

Then we ahd some wine with the meal. Well, three bottles of the good stuff and a carafe of the house wine but that was between six of us.

OK so one person hardly drunk any, another only slightly more, so I guess effectively 4 bottles between 4 which, I suppose, is a bottle each.

But it was the beach party that did it really.

One of the nice things about Italy is the cocktails. There’s no such thing as gills. Or is it gils? In any event – measuring. They don’t do it.

Since the barman was the son of E (who’s drink I had nearly drunk earlier), he did the mojitos for me and Alf. I’m not a fan but it was a disco (with the dreadful Italian summer music) and there was sand beneath my feet and it was warm and people were dancing and it seemed to go down quite well.

At some point, someone mentioned going for a swim in the sea but, even in my inebriated state, I knew that was dangerous and declined – saying it was dangerous. In the end, no one did go for a swim. Maybe I had frightened them. Or, at least, made them think.

I wasn’t going to have another but, you know, it seemed we weren’t likely to go home any time soon and so, I thought, why not?

Of course, in the light of day there were a million and one reasons why not. But it was not the light of day but about 1 a.m. These reasons did not even cross my mind. But, apparently, they had run out of rum and so our wonderful new friend, the barman, suggested something else which we agreed to try.

To be honest, by then, it could well have been antifreeze and I would have drunk it. Perhaps it was antifreeze? I drank it anyway. And then I remember very little until about 7 a.m. when I first woke up.

Not when I GOT up, mind you. Just woke up. The dogs were being a bit of a pain so I let them out in the garden.

F woke up about 10.15. I had woken up several times between 7 and then. We got up and took the dogs out.

In the end, we got to the beach about 12.30 – about 3 hours later than we usually do. As F said, we shouldn’t really do this very often and I totally agree. It’s not like we’re 20 any more.

Still it was a nice evening. From what I recall!

It’s time to move on.

Posted on by
Reply

“It will be fixed within 3 days”, he states.

“What? Another 3 days?”, I query with a certain amount of incredulity.

“What do you mean?”, he asks.

“I rang on Friday evening”, I reply, “and they told me that it would be fixed by Monday”.

“One moment”, he says, “I will check our records”.

I wait. I can hear the clicking of keys on keyboard.

“No, I’m sorry but I don’t have any record on the system”.

“But I did ring on Friday evening”.

“It’s not that I don’t believe you, it’s just that there’s nothing on the computer and that means that we can’t do anything until the 26th. If it still doesn’t work on the 26th, call us and we can send an email to the Technical people”.

Well, on the bright side, I now know how it works.

They receive a call to say that it isn’t working and they do nothing for three days. If, in three days, their technical people haven’t fixed the problem, then, and only then, will they contact the technical people.

They are, in fact, a bunch of tossers.

Today I look for someone else to provide me with the Internet as Telecom Italia are a fucking disgrace.

Things that make you go grrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr

Posted on by
Reply

“Come here and look at this”, he shouts from the bedroom.

I have just left the room to do something and, in fact, may be in the middle of doing that very thing.

Like last night.

And then this morning.

Last night I was setting my coffee maker for this morning to ensure I had my huge mug of cappuccino ready to help me feel ‘alive’.

This morning it was as I was switching off the computer and putting everything back in place for my cleaner.

Last night, on hearing the call, I muttered something along the lines of “What the fuck now?” and tried to ignore it. Of course, ignoring it is NOT an option. “Andy, come and have a look”, is the different shout. I’ll go in a minute, I think, as I take the coffee out of the fridge to fill up.

“Andy!” I start filling the coffee container of the machine. “Andy?”. It’s no good. It cannot be ignored.

Clutching the tin of coffee and the scoop used to fill the small container of the machine I go into the bedroom. In my head, I am stomping into the bedroom. In reality I am just walking. I wonder if my carrying of the tin and the scoop will ‘say’ anything to him – even if I know it won’t. I make some sort of sound when I see what I’ve come to see and go back to doing the coffee. I suppose the ‘some sort of sound’ could be misinterpreted as an OK. But that would be a misinterpretation. the correct interpretation would be more on the lines of “this was NOT worth me coming all this way for”. I feel sure it’s seen as OK.

This morning, when the same sort of thing happened, I said, out loud, but to myself “I do love you but sometimes…….”

Of course, when I say ‘out loud’ I don’t mean anywhere near loud enough for him to hear! In fact, I could barely hear it myself!

Still, I can’t be annoyed for long.

Except sometimes when he does this thing more than once, each time waiting a few moments after I have disappeared from view. That makes me go grrrrrr more than once and, therefore, for longer.

Thank goodness we don’t live in a larger house :-D