Category Archives: Friends and Inimies

Don’t have enemies. It’s not good for you. So, that’ll be just friends, then.

The Chritsmas Spirit; Friends from across the water.

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“Did you like the thing on the table in the lounge?”; he grins as he asks this of me.

“What thing?”, I ask back. Of course, I knew he had been there, dropping off some jars of antipasto stuff for Christmas day lunch. But they had been in the kitchen. Although I had put some washing out to dry in the lounge I had, as normal, failed to look at anything. I am a man. It’s not an excuse – just a fact.

He is obviously excited about it. In fact, he seems very excited about Christmas all round. Which is lovely.

I go back home and look on the table. There is a festive table centrepiece. All green and gold and red. I tell him it is lovely – which it is – but more for the fact that he is making such an effort with everything this year. Not that it is really effort – at least, I think he’s doing it because he’s really looking forward to it.

The previous morning, we had gone for breakfast and, on the way back, we popped into the Chinese shop round the corner from me. He had decided that he didn’t like the lights round the doorways in the lounge. They were not the right shade of white. He bought two more sets of lights that were the right shade of white.

In the evening we went to Baia Chia – the Sardinian restaurant. A colleague (of mine from 18 years ago, he said – and it was probably true) and his wife (whom I had never met) are over in Milan and we had agreed to go out. Also, Stef was over from the US. An also joined us and so we were six.

We had a fabulous meal. I miss Stef and Nicole quite a lot so it was particularly good to see him. He has gone very American though and all the good work I had put into teaching him British English has been for nothing. Obviously, it’s OK but it was funny to hear him speak with an American accent and use words live ‘beverages’ when he meant ‘drinks’.

We also had a lot to drink. Indeed, between the six of us we must have had the best part of two bottles of Mirto after all the wine! F was a little drunk. When we arrived home, he started trying to put up the new lights. I told him not to do it because he was drunk. He did one but left the other until the morning, thank goodness.

And now the flat is nearly ready. The only room which has not had the full ‘spring clean’ is the bedroom – to be done on Christmas Eve.

And, unusually for me, I did some Christmas shopping on Sunday! This just shows how much I am into the Christmas spirit this year. This could be the very best Christmas ever :-D

A day of mourning

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I’m in mourning today.

Blogprolific has died :'(

It’s a very sad day. I have followed Lola through her many blogs and guises but it’s sad that (at least for the moment), we shan’t be able to read her stuff.

I only hope she’s not gone for too long ……….

Speaking Italian is difficult but texting Italian on an Italian phone is even more difficult ……. it seems?????

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Takers. I hate them. OK, so hate is too strong a word. But I dislike it. I dislike it more when the person is supposed to be a friend.

FfI has just moved into a new house in my area – about 5 minutes from me. She wants me to go and see it – but not that badly, I guess.

Having texted to see if she is free I get the following reply:

2.30 my house. Call & I will give you the address,

She never calls. Always ‘doesn’t have enough credit’. But it’s not free for me either and I get a little pissed with it. So, I’ve decided I won’t call until she does next time. OK, I know it’s petty but it’s every fucking time …… call me I haven’t got any credit!

My reply was:

Text address and I will be there

Cant text in italian.phone sucks. That’s why I need you to call. One second.

WTF? I mean, seriously? You can’t text the address but you can text other messages? Are you off your fucking rocker? I mean, street name, number and bell name or number, that’s all!

Since she uses ‘I haven’t got credit’ all the time, I replied with:

Texts are free for me – calls cost. Send on fb

I got:

Not near computer; cant spell street one with this phone: Will contact you later

Sorry, but it just cannot be true. I don’t believe it and if she can’t be bothered then, frankly, neither can I. She’s a strange one, for sure. It’s gone 2.30 now. I guess I won’t be going until she contacts me …….. which won’t be any time soon LOL

Is this really what we have in store for us? God, I hope not (well, at least for me).

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Everyone is different; has a different character and, most definitely, different needs.

I really don’t care if you are married, co-habiting, single (by choice) or anything else (I’m not sure if there IS anything else) – as long as you are happy and as long as (if you have a partner), I don’t want to kill your partner or partners :-)

To be honest, what you do with your life is absolutely none of my business – unless it directly affects my life – in which case it is my business. Of course, if you ask me, I may or may not (depending on whether you’re asking for a confirmation of what you think or really asking me) tell you what I think.

Luckily, for my lovely readers, this blog is about what I think (at this moment that I’m writing, of course – in two hours I could think the opposite although, in this case that’s unlikely).

From Lola’s blog, I read this article entitled “All the Single Ladies”.

The strange thing is that I was quite disturbed by it. I mean, unsettled. Basically it was saying that, given the way that society has changed and the general ratio of men to women, being a single person was now more likely.

Perhaps I was unsettled by the truth of it, for it is not a truth I want for myself.

I understand that some people say they are happier alone. Bar a very few people, I cannot believe it, I’m sorry. True, not every society works in the same way and, for sure, partly why I am happier being ‘with someone’ is that I was brought up to believe in a household where two adults live together (with or without children).

And friends are important. Good friends are irreplaceable, of course. I have many friends. Not thousands but enough for me. Being in a friendship takes work on both sides. And yet, there are friends (like Best Mate and I) who don’t need to be in contact for quite a while and just pick up the friendship where we left off. And I would do almost anything for Best Mate. She is there, even if I am having problems with my partner or even if I don’t have a partner. I love her to bits.

BUT

She is not the same as a partner – and I don’t mean for sex. After all, for sex, if I wanted to, there is a tall, leggy prostitute that hangs on the corner of the street and is there when I take the dogs out for a walk. We even say ‘hello’ now. Well, why not? Anyway, as an aside, business seems to be quite good for her. Maybe it’s one of those businesses that thrives in crisis periods?

But I digress. And, anyway, she is a woman so not really interesting to me.

So, if not for sex then what is a partner for? Why is it that I consider it essential for my life and others (including the woman who wrote the article) don’t?

But, then again, the article doesn’t say that a partner is not essential but that, given the fact that she dumped her (probable) partner some time ago, assuming that she would be getting one later and could settle down when she felt like it, and now, finding that a partner is unlikely to be found, she has, in fact, come to a realisation that ‘this is it’ and that she had better get on and enjoy what she has.

And I think that is my point.

My greatest fear is to be old and alone. Since I don’t have (and won’t have) any children, unless I have a partner, I shall be alone when I am old.

But it’s not even that, really.

After V, I thought that, given my age, I would remain alone. For those of you that have been readers for over three years, you will know this.

But I found, after a few months of being alone, that ‘being alone’ was not an acceptable life for me. I NEEDED a partner to share things with, to cuddle up with at night and, mostly, to not feel ALONE. ALONE I cannot handle. And, as you may know, I thought that I cannot be the only person in Milan who thinks this way and so I went out to find the other person who felt the same (or, more or less, the same).

And I think that’s the problem with this woman. She hasn’t come to terms with what her single life is and doesn’t want to commit. And, by not committing was thinking that when the right man happened along, they would both know and everything would be fine.

However, as I said before I started the online dating search, it’s no good waiting for Mr Right to come knocking at my door if I am stuck there night after night. No, I needed to go out and FIND him.

And I think that, in spite of her positiveness, she is, in fact, ALONE and, possibly too busy to feel LONELY – but she may well feel lonely later and that she is fully well aware of that.

Friends, of course, will be important to her but there are those times when (even when you’re with friends) you feel alone. With a partner, I don’t get this feeling. With F, I don’t feel alone anymore.

Anyway, sorry for the ramble. They are, after all, just my opinions and thoughts.

Fashion, hair and worrying.

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“You don’t care about fashion.”

It was made as a statement. I didn’t try to correct it since, probably, it was a bit lost in translation.

It’s not true that I don’t “CARE”. It would be better to say that I’m not really too bothered about it. It doesn’t rule my life; I don’t have to have the latest things – even if I live in one of the world’s centres of fashion. But I was with people who work in fashion and, I guess, to them it seems that I don’t really care.

R (F’s friend who is up for the weekend) said that he liked my jeans. These are, probably, about 10 years old. I’m struggling to fit into them now, of course, but at least I can still fit in these. I also, last Tuesday night, got a lot of clothes that F was throwing out – to make room in his wardrobes for all the other clothes he has. That’s why R is up – to select a load of clothes for himself.

R also said that he liked my hair. I explained that I was only growing it because I didn’t know what to do with it. He said it looked really good as it was and I should keep growing it. That’s not really “fashion” either, I suppose but it explains why F has been reluctant to advise me on what to do ……… maybe. A colleague at work asked me if it was my real colour. It’s a kind of light, mousey brown. A nothing colour. But, compared to when I had it short and it was totally grey, it is completely different. I was amazed that it has gown with colour. It wasn’t what I had expected at all.

Some people seem to like my hair and they say so. Most people, I think, don’t really like it and so, say nothing. It’s not quite shoulder length but we’re getting there.

To be honest, it feels more ‘me’. Since I was about 11, I always liked long hair. And I wanted mine long. My parents weren’t so keen and it was always a bit of a fight come hair cutting time.

Maybe I am too old for this but, really, who cares. Who knows what will happen tomorrow so I might as well do what I like. And I like it long. And it’s a little bit rebellious and I like that too.

Finally, although I probably shouldn’t tell you this, especially to Gail and Lola, I have a sort of thing with my throat. And, in spite of myself, I am a bit hypochondriac – or I would be if I let myself be. I’ve had it for about three days now. Like it’s a bit swollen but in a particular place, making it a little uncomfortable. Maybe it’s a sort of cold. Of course, I keep thinking it’s cancer or something. It probably isn’t. But it’s a thought that crosses my mind knowing, as I do, that I am on borrowed time now. And, no, I won’t be going to a doctor, not least because I don’t have one and it’s too much hassle to go and get one here. It is, almost certainly, a bit of a sore throat now that the weather has changed. Everyone is having it right now. In a few days it will be gone and then I shall stop thinking about it. So, don’t worry.

But it did make me think for a moment about not being able to eat and, therefore not being able to taste. And that worried me quite a lot. See, I’ve done enough worrying about it for all of you ;-)

I’m back

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I’m back!

J has been here for a few days and I really didn’t get the chance to write anything.

And, after 5 days of eating, eating, eating, I am VERY fat. Last night I went to try on stuff that F was getting rid of from his wardrobe. It was distressing that many shirts did not really fit. I HAVE TO get rid of my paunch. It’s not good. And, next summer, I MUST remember not to eat as much.

Anyway, it’s cold now and miserable and, well, like winter. Did I ever mention that I hate winter?

Doormats or good mates?

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V used to say that I was too nice.

What he really meant that I was a bit of a walk-over.

I always said that I preferred to be a walk-over than be someone who was always in things for what I could get from them.

But, you know, just sometimes, I wish I wasn’t like that? For I get annoyed but suffer it in almost silence.

This weekend we go away. I have arranged a ‘dog sitter’ to come and take the dogs out.

It’s not ideal as they will be on their own most of the day and all night – but there’s not much I can do about that. The dog sitter is a reliable guy. I used to see him in the park all the time, looking after someone’s dog or dogs. He got a lot of business, I could see, but he was really good with the dogs.

And then, yesterday morning, I am Skype messaging with a friend. This friend has some problems (but, then, who of my friends doesn’t?) and I have been empathetic as she will be leaving to go back to her own country soon. In fact, it was supposed to have been at the end of the summer. It’s dragging on a bit.

She has a ‘best friend’ in Milan but it seems they have fallen out. She has some stuff ‘stored’ at said ‘best friend’s’ house. She needs to get this stuff before she leaves Italy. She suggests that she come and stay at my flat (if it’s OK) whilst we are away.

If that’s OK?, she adds.

I can’t think of a really valid reason for it not to be OK.

Except that I don’t really want her there. I don’t know why, really. Is that terrible of me?

Worse still, she was suggesting that she come tonight! F isn’t terribly excited about that and nor am I.

She finishes work at 5 and will call me then. Maybe it will be too late for her to get a train? We would both prefer if she came up on Saturday morning (but early).

If she does come then at least someone will be there during the day and night for the dogs. So I need to concentrate on that.

Other than that, of course, I’m looking forward to this long weekend away with F. Just the two of us and (slightly guiltily) without the need to rush back for or get up early for the dogs.

Parties and stuff

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The preparations are in progress.

The event could be a wedding. The marquee on the lawn, the large round tables covered in blue tablecloths, people working to prepare everything in time for mid-day.

Except it’s a party. A celebration. I’m not a fan of parties but this I dread. This is a company party. Hanging around with people that aren’t your friends, even if some of them are nice and even if some of them can, actually, be counted as friends. It’s not like we have anything in common, apart from work.

But, then, I’ve never really liked these things even when I ran my own company.

I would prefer to be somewhere else.

I don’t do small talk.

You can’t really talk about ‘real’ things.

There will be speeches which I won’t understand, I expect. There will be complaints about the food or the heat (for it is still in the high 20s here), about people, about something. And, probably, I will complain too. One does, after all, doesn’t one?

Ah, well, in 6 hours it will be over, thank goodness.

Tomorrow, F goes to the UK for work for four days. I’ve been helping him with his presentation for some big meeting. I have enjoyed helping him; I like to feel useful as well as loved. Then he goes to Spain for three days. Then Germany for over a week. I miss him already.

I’ve nearly completed my backlog of work and the only thing to complete now is my CV for editing. I hope to finish it before the party starts.

So, sorry, must dash …………

Mantova Festivaletturatura

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Mostly written on 9th September.

Mantova! I’m so happy to be back here.

Everyone says I look so happy. This is true – and not only for being back this year. Even last night, B said that I looked happy. It’s how life should be.

I’m sitting at Grifone Bianco, having lunch. The antipasto was a rather tasty Leek and Cheese Pie.

My Italian is still not that good and sometimes I confuse things. I thought I had chosen a veal pie for my secondo. What came was three, rather large balls of veal tartare. Luckily, I eat everything so it doesn’t phase me – other than it was slightly unexpected. It was, in fact, the most fantastic tartare I’ve ever had. After the meal was over (I was the last diner to leave), the woman behind the counter said that she was sorry she hadn’t recognised me before. It was nice that she had recognised me at all – it being a couple of years since I had last been there!

I only wish that F could be here with me. It’s warm and muggy; the sun hidden behind clouds – moisture hangs heavily in the air.

I got here much later than I had planned. I forgot to set the alarm and so we woke up at 9. 9, I tell you! I didn’t wake up that late when we were on holiday! I guess I needed the sleep. I guess that even more because I have developed a sty – and I’ve always believed they were a result of a lack of sleep. Or, maybe, that’s an old wives’ tale from my mother or grandmother. I don’t know any more. It’s what I believe anyway and so that makes it true, even if it isn’t.

I was asked about V both last night and when I arrived here. It’s to be expected, I suppose.

I’m ashamed to say that, last night, at least, I told all that I had heard. I gossiped with gusto. It was the first person I had done this with. It was the first person who I had seen since I had heard the gossip and who had known us as a couple.

I wanted to stop but I couldn’t. Today, on the other hand, I kept it simple and kept most of the information to myself. It’s better like that.

I asked about editing. I would give up my job and my English teaching if I could earn enough with that. Maybe this was the job I was actually destined for?

Anyway, it’s something I can do even if we move to the other side of the world – but that’s a different post. I’m afraid I don’t tell you everything, especially if it’s only an idea and more especially if it’s not even my idea but one that’s reliant on other people who I don’t really know very well – actually almost not at all!

It’s a late lunch I’m having, having only got here, to Mantova, at 1.30 and to the restaurant at about 2.30.

After lunch, I wander a bit. Mantova is one of those places that you really should visit. It’s a pretty town, surrounded by lakes. The problem with the lakes is that, when it’s really hot like this, it’s also humid – more, even, than Milan.

I go to a talk with Tim Parks, a writer who has lived in Italy (somewhere in or close to Milan, from what I understand) since the early eighties. He speaks Italian very well. I understand a lot. I even understand some of his jokes. This is good, really. It’s during his event that I realise that Mantova is more humid than Milan. He seems a funny guy and enjoys his time on stage. I leave when the questions from the audience start as I have to get back.

I take my leave of the staff. I wish I were able to stay. Maybe I can organise it for next year as this one has been too hectic.

But I’m so happy that I came. If you get the chance you should go to the Festivaletteratura. The atmosphere is great and the weather is (usually) very good. For me it’s another of those things that extends the summer.

To next year! And thanks to M and S and all the other staff who always make me feel so welcome.

Fine, thanks. No fine, thanks. When is it right to fight the rules by disobeying them?

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I’m being a bit crap at the moment.

Sorry.

I have started to update the links on the right. If yours hasn’t appeared yet, it is on it’s way, I promise. But, probably, not until next week.

In the meantime, let’s talk about rules and laws.

I mean, is it OK to break them? Sometimes, if these rules or laws had not been broken by a significant number of people, the law or rule would not have been changed or abolished. But which rules are OK to break and which not? Who should decide which are irrelevant rules and which are not?

There are things that are obvious (although sometimes less obvious here). For example, driving the wrong way down a one-way street. Here, I see bicycles regularly being ridden the wrong way. And the cyclists seem most put out that you, a car, driving the right way down the street seem to think that the cyclists are in the wrong.

I’ve even seen (as I may have mentioned before) cars driven the wrong way. OK so this was at 5.50 in the morning and there’s hardly any traffic – but ….. still …….

I’ve seen a car driven down the tram tracks (which must have done some damage to the car, I would think) where there is no road but it’s similar to a train track (without the sleepers).

I would guess there is some law against these things but the question is, is it OK to break this law?

Cyclists, here, regularly ride on the pavement. In the UK they would almost certainly be caught (I think) but here it’s almost the norm. Perhaps there is no rule or law against it.

Then there’s turning left or right at some traffic lights when there are signs that say you are prohibited from doing so. If I’m behind one of these people, I become ‘all Italian’ and blow my horn like crazy. But, if ‘everyone does it’, surely that almost makes the rule illogical and, almost, unenforceable? So, should that particular rule be relaxed or abolished?

Then there’s parking. They have gone a bit mad with the blue paint in my area – meaning that we should pay for parking (blue boxes are metered parking; yellow boxes are resident permit holders only).

Just after someone had made a ‘prohibited’ left turn and was roundly slagged off by the person who was driving me, it came to light that this person parks in ‘resident only’ areas because ‘I object to paying for parking’. And so, it made the rule regarding parking invalid. Apparently.

I tried to point out that the guy turning left was, in effect, only ignoring another of the rules regarding driving and parking and I was told that it was a different thing.

Ah, yes, of course it was.

The breaking of a rule prohibiting you from turning left is, quite obviously, something for which there should have been a policeman at that particular moment whereas, stopping a resident with a valid parking permit the chance to park outside their home is something that should be tolerated. Ha!

Don’t get me wrong, I’m not perfect. I’m sure I do things that aren’t ‘quite right’ but I can hardly criticise those who turn left when they shouldn’t and in the same breath say that, as I have decided parking in a resident-only parking bay without having a valid permit is perfectly OK, I am not guilty of the same type of fault.

I realise there are ‘degrees’ of breaking the rules and, maybe, illegal parking is not quite as bad as turning left when you shouldn’t. But I’m not sure that I actually have the right to say that it’s OK to do.

Rules are rules. And they are there to make life (society’s life as a whole) more comfortable. With regard to road use (or pavement use, for that matter) I have found that Italians are a tad selfish and I am coming to the opinion that, if you can’t beat them, join them. But it makes me uncomfortable in my English way.

Still, rules are rules and breaking of them can (and should?) have consequences. It’s just that there’s a mentality that says – if I don’t agree with the rule or it doesn’t suit my purpose, then it’s OK the break this one.

In the end, we came out of the restaurant and there was no fine on the car for parking in a place that was not supposed to be parked in.

What do you think? Can we break the rules that we don’t agree with? Or should we abide by all rules and laws?