Category Archives: Experiences

I gotta stop; Pictures from Piero’s day in the office

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Really, I HAVE to stop talking about it but so amazed I am by the whole experience that it’s very difficult not to.

I mean to say, this morning was an example.

Last night the dogs ate a lot. Then F and I went out and got home late. We took the dogs for a walk and then went to bed and sleep straight away.

At 5.30 a.m. this morning when, by rights, I should have been asleep, we got up (yes, F got up with me!). I cleaned up the newspapers and, although there were plenty of wees there was no pooh, which was slightly odd. F went to take them out and I was to catch up later.

Which I did – to find that Piero had done a pooh outside!

Unbelievable! I mean, for his age it’s just incredible and that’s why I can’t stop talking about it. It must be similar with parents talking about the first time that their kid stops using nappies or something.

Anyway, now that I’ve told you about that, I thought I might post some pictures, taken by my colleague Pietro, when Piero came into the office that day.

He didn’t like the balcony which is where I sometimes go to smoke, and Pietro was there to take pictures:

But, most of the time, he stayed in the office with me and, just like the Queen, he ‘received’ people :-):

Thanks Pietro.

Eggs or stead

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The growling has stopped. More or less.

Now, when Piero jumps up at Dino, Dino just tries to move away.

But I’m half convinced that, out of shot, so to speak, Dino tries playing with him, even if he’s a bit small at the moment.

Of course, the playing with him has one, quite serious, drawback.

Piero has learned to bark. He barks when he’s excited and when he wants to play. I only hope (very much hope) that he doesn’t get too excited and wants to play too often during the day, when I’m not there.

Still, I’m sure we’ll find out. If necessary, of course, I shall have to do what I did with Dino and Rufus – i.e. separate them when we’re out. But I’d prefer not to.

The place now looks like a bomb has hit it most of the time. There are toys everywhere, there’s bits of the box that has newspapers in it over the floor and, in a slightly worrying development, there seems to be a new game of moving the newspaper that’s on the floor, collecting pee and pooh.

Apart from the getting up at 5.30 a.m., there’s also the need to watch them whilst they eat as Dino wants Piero’s food and vice versa.

However, when Piero has finished his food, he goes to the dog basket and waits.

As usual, Dino, once full enough starts to do the picnic thing, taking a mouthful of food out of the bowl and dropping it on the rug in the dog basket and then eating them one by one. But Piero is there now to snatch what he can. It is very amusing to watch.

This morning, as I came out of the bathroom, Dino was sat with his back to the unit housing the DVDs. The bottom shelf I had cleared, not wishing to leave too much stuff that was chewable and in easy reach of a puppy. Piero has found that he can sit upright on this bottom shelf – making him slightly taller than Dino and right behind him. I wish I had had my camera.

However, this constant need to watch Piero; clean up after him; stop him from barking, etc. coupled with the need to get up so early is leaving me exhausted (as I indicated in the title of this post – exhausted = eggsorstead :-D). I know it won’t be for ever but, still, I wish it were over already.

p.s. F has actually been getting up with me all the time apart from the one day – and then this morning as he is in Venice. I am impressed.

We have successes and setbacks

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So, after yesterday, when he was a model of a puppy for the whole day at the office, we had one slight setback and then this morning a great success – maybe two, depending on how you look at it.

Of course, after yesterday morning, most of the afternoon was spent sleeping.

To be honest, I was wishing I could join him. This getting up at 5.30 a.m. is a killer and, almost, not really necessary at the moment. The getting up so early allows me time to clean up any mess that might be made off the newspaper. In fact, apart from one small pooh on the balcony, everything has been on the newspaper (or pretty damned close). He is an exceptional puppy. Better, even, than Dino was at his age!

But, yesterday, in the office, he did nothing on the newspaper waiting until we went for a short walk to pee and poop. An absolute result! He ate several times during the day and, in the afternoon had to be encouraged to come out with me when I went for a cigarette, so tired as he was.

However, not being completely stupid, he remembered the car.

I think, in his head, it works something like this:

Car = make me feel bad = I throw up = make me feel worse = DO NOT GET IN CAR!

As we are approaching the car he hangs back. When I reach the car, he is some feet away (on the lead, of course) and sits down. When I try to coax him to the car, he is stubborn. When I pull him he fights back. But, I mean fights back with vigour!!!!

Obviously I am a tad stronger than he is. He gets put in the car. I try to drive a little slower, especially round corners. In any event, by the time we reach home I see he has thrown up. Ah well, poverino. He will get used to it, I know – but it’ll mean no food this evening until we’ve arrived in Carrara and we’ll stop at least once to ‘clean up’ I expect.

Dino used to be like this, so I know it will get better.

But my, how happy was he to see Dino last night? The new, improved, sleek, short-haired Dino. Dino almost seemed a little pleased to see him – but, really, how can you tell?

Last night he was playing and generally having fun. Maybe he will forget about the car by this evening? We shall see.

Then this morning, F got up with me (that was the second success) which was a big surprise. In fact, he wanted to make sure he could handle them both together. Bless him, he gets worried that he won’t be able to control them. It was a success in that he handled everything – but at the same time, I could have stayed in bed for an extra hour! Ah well.

But the main success was that, within a few moments of being out, Piero did his first (not counting the ones yesterday) pooh outside. Oh how good is he? Dino didn’t do his first for months.

So, there were mainly successes and the setback with the car journey. It could be very much worse. He is, in a different way from Dino, of course, going to turn out to be a great dog.

In which we go to work.

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Well, the getting up at 5.30 a.m. lasted for 2 days. This morning, no!

Ah well, it’s OK.

We went out for our walk. This morning they got no food. I didn’t want Piero being sick in the car and I learnt this with Dino who had the same problem.

At first, I put Piero in the footwell but it was no good because he wanted to come to me and so I laid out the old sheet in the back and put newspaper on top. Even if I hadn’t fed him, there was always the possibility of vomiting.

He doesn’t enjoy the car …….. yet. For him it is a bit traumatic. His stomach feels bad and so, even without being sick, he drools everywhere. To the point where his muzzle is soaking wet – and, obviously, all over the paper. But at least it’s not sick!

For most of the journey he just lay down in the back.

But we made it to work. He was happy to be out and happier once I had put the lead on and we were walking from the car to the office. We get into the reception and, of course, everyone wanted to stroke him.

We made our way upstairs and into my office.

He doesn’t like my office very much. Near me is the air conditioning unit and it makes a noise which he isn’t used to – and is, therefore, a bit frightening.

However, he is getting used to it. Eventually he came to eat his food from his bowl. Then we went for a little walk to purchasing and on the way he had a little wee on the grass. I am proud of him. He is a very good dog. Everyone is amazed at how quiet he is. OK so he’s had a traumatic journey to work, everything is new and strange – but, even so, this is the way they are, more or less. They play but not so much. They like affection more than anything.

He seems a bit sad – but in reality it’s just because he is a little unsure.

Now he is so tired he is sleeping. This is already a VERY exhausting day for him.

Being a mother?

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To be honest, 5.30 a.m. is a time of morning that nobody should see unless they really want to. All sensible people would still be asleep. For that matter, F too.

Except for the last 2 days.

Yesterday, he said he wanted to get up with me. I thought it was strange and stranger still that he came out with us for a walk before going back to his flat.

Last night he told me that he wasn’t sure if he was going to get up with me but I should wake him and he would let me know.

He came out with us again. I said that he didn’t have to get up. He replied that he didn’t want to miss the walk with the new bimbo. So NOW I get it.

However, I think this may be the last time. We shall see.

He is also acting a little bit like a typical Italian mother (when I say say typical I mean stereotypical, of course. I’m sure not all Italian mums are like this) in that he is a little over protective of Piero.

“Do you think he’s OK out on the balcony?” Yes, I assure him. Even if, I too worry a bit that he’ll fall through the railings (dogs, generally, not being so clever, especially at this age).
“I am a bit worried about taking him out on my own” was a comment made more than once.
“I think it’s a bit dangerous for him” – made on more than one occasion for different reasons.

And, when he’s not at home, he wants to know what he’s doing. Is he sleeping? Is he playing? Is he lying with Dino? How many poohs has he done? Has he eaten? Etc., etc.

Yes, just like a mother, really :-)

Tomorrow, at the suggestion of a colleague and agreement with the boss, Piero will be coming with me to work.

It will be an experience (for everyone!)

In preparation.

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Well, I think it’s as good as it will get – subject to plastic around important legs, which will have to wait.

Of course, I THINK it’s OK but know, in my heart, that I have, quite obviously, missed something.

There are, one hopes, what with F buying something every time he goes abroad, enough toys to keep the little bugger occupied. In the process I have cleared out some food in the fridge and found that I have far too much wine. Maybe I should drink more? ;-)

Tonight, we should be going out with the Austrian friend and her husband. They are here to select clothes for next year, it being the start of the showroom sales.

Next week is the Paris fashion shows, so F is in Paris next weekend. Dino and I will be going to Carrara, even if I prefer to be with F.

I have suggested to Best Mate, that she comes for the first week in August (as F will be working and I shall be in the first week of my three-week holiday) – she can get a cheapish flight to Pisa and we can spend the days on the beach or sight-seeing or something. I don’t think she will come but it would be rather nice. And it would be a weeks holiday for her.

Of course, there will also be Piero, which makes it more fun. We could have barbeques in the back garden and stuff. Yes, it would be all rather fun, I think. I hope she says ‘yes’.

This afternoon, we are going to see Piero and, hopefully, choose. F says that he will like them all and be unable to choose, so I will do it. He says that he will always, then, prefer one of the others. But I think there will be ‘the one’ – and you know that I always believe in ‘the one’ for both dogs and boyfriends :-D

In the meantime, these next few weeks will be SO busy, with hardly an evening or weekend free to do anything. Weekends in Carrara being the only time to relax. And then comes Piero – so even more so. But it’s OK. It will be fun, I know that much.

Summer; slowly; puppy-proofing

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Finally, it is here.

The temperature in my flat, with all windows open, is 30°C. Last night it reached a low of about 25°C (according to the weather forecast I use).

I am happy but slower, of course. I am also, after going to the supermarket, sweating so I am sitting here for a moment, typing this whilst I ‘dry off’ a bit. Before going out again. Slowly, of course. On the other hand, both Dino and F are not so happy. Dino cannot get cool enough and, at times, seems to be trying to dig through the floor (to get to cooler earth???). Obviously, he doesn’t realise that we are on the third floor and so, if he ever did manage to dig through the concrete, he would be in the flat below! Now, he can’t be walked in the middle of the day. It’s too uncomfortable for him. I wait until about 8 when the sun is lower – even then it’s really too hot for him, poor thing.

We are not in Carrara this weekend. F is supposed to be working but has done his back in again and so is currently at home. So this weekend, the plan was to ‘puppy-proof’ the flat. Which I will start this afternoon.

Puppy-proofing will be difficult, I think. When we got Dino we were able to close off the lounge. Here, I am unable to do that and, anyway, I need the lounge for the newspaper.

So, all rugs must be lifted; all books must be put into the bookcase; all videos stored away from the bottom shelf in the hall. There will be other things too. I have an idea for protecting the table legs and chair legs in the lounge which is to get some thick plastic and tie round them. The ones in the kitchen don’t really matter. There will be things that I will miss, of course. It’s one of the prices you pay.

Still, we have not decided. Now I am so busy that, if I don’t go this weekend and choose, it won’t happen. I really want F there too (to help choose) but I’m guessing he won’t come. Maybe I go tomorrow.

In any event, it is summer and Piero should be here in the next 3 weeks or so. I am so excited. It will be exhausting but fun.

There’s the truth and then there’s a whole load of lies!

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To be frank, I never wanted to go in the first place.

I had joked about it raining so much that, maybe, it would all be flooded and then we couldn’t go.

We flew with Monarch to Birmingham. We arrived and had to put jackets on. It was decidedly chilly. We followed the crowd to go and reclaim our bags and then came to a grinding halt.

The ‘hall’ was fuller than full. The queue snaked back and forth on itself, as these things do now.

It took us one hour and a half to get through to our bags.

I noticed the signs on the side walls, explaining the delays. Apparently they were checking that the document you had used for the flight matched the one you were using now.

Except, like all the misinformation about security and stuff, it wasn’t that at all. It couldn’t have been! We got to the desk and I gave in my passport (which must, of course, be taken out of its holder – but only in the UK) and my colleague gave in her ID card. You can travel throughout Europe on your ID card and it was used for the flight.

“Don’t you have a passport?”, asked the surly man. It was said too fast and with a thick, brummy accent. I answered for my colleague knowing that she hadn’t understood. “No”.

I wanted to add that quite obviously, she couldn’t use her passport because you were checking with the flight and she hadn’t used the passport for the flight.

He sighed. He then proceeded to type the number into his computer. But the thing is – why? What’s the point? I mean, she’s from Italy, is Italian and wouldn’t ever want to stay in the country longer than necessary.

So there’s an excuse for the long queues which is, quite frankly, a big, big lie.

Instead, the whole experience left me with the over-riding feeling of being unwanted in the country – and it’s MY country!

Someone said that it was something to do with the Olympics – not that we were anywhere close to the Olympics. But if I had a ticket for one of the events I would now, seriously, consider selling it.

My advice: if you don’t need to go to the UK, then don’t go. Once you get there it’s not that good anyway.

Death Valley – UK High Street

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It was so sad. So down-at-heel. So without inspiration or hope or anything. It could have been in one of the most run down suburbs of any large town. Some shops were closed. Some shops looked like they were about to close. The shops selling things for £1 or less were stacked to the gills with gaudiness and tackiness.

Everything seemed to be on sale. No, everything seemed to be cheap both in price and quality. Every building seemed like it needed a facelift.

Oh, there was no litter anywhere, nor any graffiti. People used the ashtrays provided so there wasn’t even a cigarette butt to see. So it SHOULD have looked better, shouldn’t it? But it didn’t. It looked shabby.

There weren’t many people around either. And those that were there looked burdened by poverty and miserableness and unhappiness and dread. People slouched and seemed to drag their feet. Like all hope had been sucked out of them. Like there had been a plague of Deatheaters (re: Harry Potter) seconds before.

But, then, it’s not a “quaint” town with “things to see” or, at least, not famous ones. No one I have ever known has said “Let’s go to Wolverhampton!”

It only took a few moments to feel as depressed by it as it all looked; as all the people looked! We walk along the street in order to ‘look around’ and, maybe, buy something but within those few moments, all I wanted to do was to go back to the hotel.

There is no ‘town centre’ any more – just ‘death valley’. I forced myself to buy some sandals. I looked at buying a T-shirt. But I really did want out of there. It makes it seem more unlikely I could go back.

It’s not to say there aren’t similar ‘dead’ zones in Italy, of course but not, I think, in what should be a major city. Nor is it to say that we don’t have closed and boarded up shops, nor that we don’t have the equivalent of Pound Shops or temporary stores – even on Corso Buenos Aries (a main shopping street in Milan – not far from my house)! But, somehow, it doesn’t seem depressing …….. yet!

They’ve got some woman in the UK government to try and ‘breathe life’ into the high streets of the UK but I think it’s too far late now. Now people are used to going to out-of-town shopping centres or mega superstores. These, in fact, are the new high street.

With the changes that Mr Monti wishes to make in Italy, I think we could have the same disaster here, in about 10 years, which would be such a shame. Some will survive – as long as they are tourist destinations – then the place will be full of gift shops and clothes shops and antiques shops.

No, it was sad to see and horrible to be walking there. I shan’t be doing that again in a hurry.

Villa Singer and a wedding.

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Yesterday was a wedding.

An Italian wedding. But not like an Italian wedding at all. There weren’t a thousand and one guests; there wasn’t a wedding breakfast which had 100 courses; there wasn’t a white dress or top hats and tails. It was, in fact, more like a small, intimate party. And it was truly lovely.

This was one of F’s childhood friends, P, getting married to a banker, A, even though he looks nothing like a banker should look. I have never known P without A and, so, to me they are perfectly right for each other. She, apparently, was a bit wild in her youth (so was F) but can still be a little unexpected now.

The wedding ceremony took place in Piazza Reale, a stone’s throw from the Duomo. It was conducted by one of her ex-boyfriends.

Apart from the happy couple, and F and his friend R, I knew only one other person – L who bears a striking resemblance to Betty Boop! Only a tad older.

We were late for the ceremony (of course), arriving some few minutes after it all started. It had started at 10.

F took photographs. Lots of photographs.

The day was lovely but not too hot. The groom was dressed in white trousers with a white T-shirt and loose white scoop-neck top. The bride wore white trousers, similar top with an off-white jacket. She had had some braiding in her hair and looked lovely.

After the ceremony we went, by metro to Villa Singer (pronounced singe – er). We arrived about mid-day.

The first picture you see on the link was, more or less, how it was. It’s a not-so-big garden, next to one of Milan’s old canals. Tranquil, beautiful and the perfect setting for a wedding reception. It wasn’t many courses but, rather, a buffet that included fried courgette flowers, oysters, grilled green chilli-like peppers with anchovies, courgette mouse, vegetarian lasagne and a cake that was beautiful sponge covered with lashings of whipped cream and raspberries and strawberries. I had two slices :-)

There was prosecco (Italian champagne) and white wine or, for those who were not drinking, water and grapefruit juice. I wasn’t one of the last group.

We drank and ate and chatted and laughed. There were about 25 people so large enough not to get bored but small enough that you chatted to everyone and I met some really nice people (which is normal). It was all delightful.

Inside the house the rooms, full of antique furniture were open for you to walk round – and I did for a few moments.

But it was all so relaxed and, even if it is an overused word, nice. It was like being at a small garden party with friends, drinking in the afternoon sun (in both senses).

I watched F, from time to time, being the joker and centre of attention – but not in a bad way. Everyone loves him but I adore him. Someone (it may have been Betty Boop) asked if I would marry him and I said that I would. Of course I would.

And, if we did get married, I would want a wedding like this.

We left about 6. It was wonderful and I was really happy that I had been asked to go and that we went.