Category Archives: Friends and Inimies

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

Families

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Just so you know, we have no Internet access at work – so no visiting of blogs and these posts have to be posted in the evening – and I have so little time. Hopefully, all will be back to normal soon.

In the meantime ……….

I had done a long piece about the falling out F had with his Mum. That was the weekend before last. There was a walk out, things were said and, afterwards I was told that now, he doesn’t feel obligated to go there.

Except I lived with V for over 20 years.

Let’s be honest, if I fall out with someone, I really fall out with them. It doesn’t go away. I guess that’s why, in the last 30 years or so, I don’t speak to my parents and have only seen them twice in that time.

It’s not that I bear grudges as such, it’s just that I don’t feel it can all be ignored. If there’s a problem then it remains a problem. I realize it’s my problem really but it’s the way I am. I tried to change when V left but V wouldn’t let me. Perhaps more of me rubbed off onto V than I had thought?

So, last weekend, I was, at once, surprised and unsurprised when, after we had arrived on Saturday, F phoned his Mum to say that we were down but we wouldn’t be going round for something to eat that evening.

On Sunday, he said he was sorry but we needed to go and see his Mum and Dad before going to the beach. He bought some cakes to have with coffee. I said it was fine (which it was). I may have a problem with forgiveness myself but I have no problem with other people being able to forgive – at least, between themselves.

And so we go. His Dad is on his own. He makes us coffee and he and F play cards, as normal. Hi Mum comes. She makes faces at me as if to ask ‘Is he OK now?’ or ‘He’s a strange one’ or something like that. I smile and raise my eyebrows and shrug my shoulders.

Finally, he and his Mum sit down (when his father has gone to the other room) to talk about a lunch at some restaurant to be arranged for his Dad’s birthday which is in a few weeks. I don’t suppose his brother will be there. But, who knows?

I don’t really understand families. Well, I understand my own – it’s everyone else’s that’s a mystery to me.

Sons and Daughters

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It’s going to be a busy few weeks before the holidays.

Apart from that, it’s also going to be a fattening few weeks with lots of meals out.

So, by the time the holidays come, I shall be, at once, fatter and slimmer – although, probably, the ‘fatter’ part will win through.

I am quite looking forward to next weekend when my son and his wife will be over.

For those of you that have just thought, ‘Have I missed something?’, no, you haven’t. I’m not really being serious. But it’s sort of like that. It’s the guy who got married last year. They’re coming to celebrate their first anniversary here, in Milan. Aw, bless.

Actually, in all these years, only 3 people/couples have come here to Milan to visit me (previously, us). This will be the fourth. In six years.

I hope to be able to help them to enjoy their stay and am taking some days off to do so. During their time here we shall be eating (rather well, I think :-) ), drinking and doing some other things that are less important. Mainly eating and drinking. Oh, and seeing the Last Supper. And, maybe going to the Duomo and, if it’s nice, up to the roof. And, did I mention? Eating and drinking.

I will be enjoying it.

But that’s the weekend after this one. In the meantime, have a good weekend.

From hot and sunny Carrara to the Chicago rain.

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“I hate being in love”

“I always fall in love. I can’t stop it and I hate it”

“I fall in love and then I fall out of love. I’ve had enough of it”, the American girl behind me whined. I wanted to say something. I thought of turning round and saying “That’s life”, but I didn’t.

The morning was on the beach. The temperature was, probably, in the 30s (°C, of course). We had lunch, courtesy of F’s sister at which, because his sister and niece are both taking English lessons, there was an impromptu lesson.

Then we left. I could have stayed there all day but we had Chicago later.

It wasn’t supposed to rain. The forecast said no rain. Everyone’s forecast said no rain. The clouds in the distance were laden with rain. And the lightening, as always, was great to see – as a backdrop, of course. I don’t want it coming any closer. But it did. The spots of rain were large. Wearing sandals, a shirt and some linen trousers didn’t keep me dry.

On the plus side, it stopped the mosquitoes which, until then, had been on a feasting orgy and the smell of Autan was all around. I hate the smell of Autan and try my best never to use it. My thinking is that, if it’s potent enough to ward off mosquitoes, it can’t possibly be good for your skin. A couple of nibbles by the zanzare can’t be as bad. And, anyway, even the people who liberally spray themselves, seem to get bitten just the same.

There was another plus side. With the onset of the rain, many people started to get up and leave or, at least, try to find some shelter. Leaving a number (quite a sizeable number) who headed to the front. The front, for sometime, protected us from the rain but in the end it got us too.

I never did festivals. When you’re young, you can do this ‘staying in the rain’ for hours whilst you watch your favourite band. Firstly, this is NOT my favourite band and secondly, I only know a few of their songs and only one that I can sing along to. However, what was I to do? Everyone in my group was at the front and so, I followed.

To be honest, even without knowing all the songs (I knew about 5), the band were brilliant. Not only were they good but they obviously enjoyed themselves which makes a whole lot of difference. The trombone player was incredible – not only for his playing but also for his energy and enjoyment.

Once again, it was Milano Jazzin Festival and Chicago were great. It was worth the money and the rain to see them.

Anyone who had a heart ….. wouldn’t want to miss this

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One of the girls, N, who was with us had said, apparently, that she didn’t know who he was.

She meant, of course, she didn’t know his songs. But everyone knows a few of his songs, even if you don’t think you do.

And, so as this 83-year-old man shuffled on stage last night at the Milano Jazzin’ Festival, although I knew that I knew many of his songs I was blown away by both him, his playing, his songs (I knew all except a couple of them) and the atmosphere which was much like a party.

It was fun.

It’s difficult to pick just one song since there are so many of them. As it is, I shall pick two.

The first, although first sung by Dionne Warwick, was a hit in the UK by Cilla Black and so Cilla and this song always go together for me:

The second is a song that I don’t know that well but it’s sung by Elvis Costello – God Give Me Strength (although, obviously, not last night):

Burt sung some of the songs and he can be forgiven for not having the perfectly strong voice of a young man.

His contribution to the world of music is immeasurable and I am so happy that I’ve been to see him since you don’t know if he’ll ever be back in Milan. Although, if he is, I really want to be there :-)

At least I am in no danger of getting pregnant.

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I have to make an apology.  To all ladies/women/girls who may read this.  It’s an apology in advance.  In advance of me writing the thing for which I am apologising.

So, I’m sorry.

It’s just that, this week, it’s been terrible.  Well, not all of it.  But it’s like I’m going through my period.  Even if, quite obviously, I don’t have them.  OK, so I’m not getting the stomach cramps (ache, as it used to be before it became a new thing to differentiate it from the less serious and rather ordinary ‘ache’) but I am so irritable and irrational.

But, only at work.

I’m fine when I’m out of work.  Or, rather, I’m fine when F is there, with me.

And now I know why this is.  And I tried to explain it last night when we went out with An, his friend who used to live in London.  We were talking about past relationships and I learnt a little more about the breakup between him and S.  He was saying that he has remained friends with all his ex-boyfriends.  I wish I could say the same.  And then we were talking about friends, in general.

And I tried to explain that it was him that was the key to this on-going friendship he has with so many people.  He was saying that it takes two – which it does but, a little like the guy C, who is my ‘official’ boss at work, sometimes, you’ve got to look at the common factor.

In his case, he is a useless, self-important, misogynist, bigotted, racist, pig of a man.  Nobody likes him and he has many arguments with almost everyone.  And, if arguments keep happening and there is one person who is almost invariably part of the argument, then you’ve got to say that this one person may be the reason that the arguments take place.

Unfortunately, even with me on Monday.  Which annoys me in itself but he just makes my blood boil.  As, it seems, he also does to others.

Whereas F has an opposite effect on people.

And he is the common factor in all of this – in all his friendships with ex-boyfriends.  So it’s him that is the key – not the others.

And, so, maybe that’s why, when he’s around, I feel a different person.

So I feel like I’m having my period – which is good because it means I can’t get pregnant.  See, there’s a bright side to everything :-)

p.s. I also did the booking of restaurants yesterday so that’s another thing off my mind.

Pizza with pig fat

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Ruth wrote about it back in January of this year but I’d never seen it before.

However, as I now ‘weekend’ nearby (how jealous are you, Ruth?), it seems only logical.

Friday night we were late getting down.  Too late to go and eat with F’s parents and, so, F, having not eaten much lunch, suggest we drop the dogs off at the house and go for a pizza.

Seemed a good idea to me.  I don’t know any restaurants in the town and so learning of which ones to go to is important (for me).

We went to Bati Bati right in the centre of town.  It looked nice.  Rustically rough but clean looking.  We went into the back part of the restaurant.  Everything was white except the floor.  Unusually for the town, not everywhere was marble!

I then saw – pizza with lardo di Colonnata, aubergine (egg plant to you Americans) and asparagus.

Now, I do really like lardo and lardo di Colonnata is produced in a town (maybe village) nearby and is reputedly the best.  They serve it thinly sliced – but I mean really, really thin – almost see-through.  The combination of the lardo, the aubergine and the asparagus was divine and, surprisingly, very light!  I loved it.

F has now promised to take me up to Colonnata where we can get some of the real thing.  I resisted suggesting that we should do that first thing in the morning.

The only problem will be to slice it thinly enough.

But there is a bakery that bakes bread in a wood oven (so the sign says) near to the house and the idea of a thin slice of lardo di Colonnata on a piece of warm bread is making my mouth water already!

I guess it’s official now.

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I guess I have reached the ‘I am an old codger’ stage of my life.

It’s not really my age, as such, it’s my attitude.

Saturday night was the ‘Notte Bianca’.  This is an Italian thing.  Once a year, roads are closed to traffic and the shops and bars stay open until late.  By late, I mean 2 or 3 or later.

There are often ‘discos in the street’, stalls and street traders selling tourist-type crap.  There are food and drink stalls.  And people wander about.

I suppose the reason it can be done here is the weather.  It’s warm and it lends itself to staying up till the early hours of the morning.

F apologised a number of times and checked I wasn’t bored.  St, an old friend of his, has been having problems with her 30+-year-old marriage.  Or rather her husband has been having problems, if you see what I mean.  She has lived in the town all her life and feels she cannot confide in anyone who lives there – so F was an obvious choice.  It seems a lot of people are having problems right now.

Anyway, obviously they were talking in Italian.  I suppose I could have tried to follow the conversation but it seemed rude to do so, me not being an old friend.  So, I didn’t.

We went to a bar and found a seat (which was lucky).  And they talked whilst I looked around.  And I catch myself wondering why the young people (especially the girls) think that wearing a pair of shorts or skirt that barely covers your bum when you have tree trunks for legs, think that it can possibly be attractive?

I suppose it is the same as when I was a teenager and I suppose the older generation thought much the same about us as I think about the youngsters of today.

But, that’s not entirely fair.  There are women of F’s age wearing the same sort of thing although it’s noticeable that the women of that age generally wear something that suits their figure.  Not always, of course, but mostly.

We left about midnight as F didn’t like a friend of R (his best friend who had joined us with his entourage later) who announced to everyone, and in front of her 10-year-old daughter, how she really needed a fuck tonight.  I only learnt later that was why we had left as I hadn’t understood.

Possibly it’s as well that I don’t understand sometimes but F and I do agree on stuff like that.  As we used to say in the UK – it’s not big and it’s not clever.

However, I did enjoy the evening.  Watching the people.  And St seems very nice.  Bless her, she’s still in love with her husband after almost 40 years of knowing him.  Shame he’s such a barsteward really.

Inexplicable procrastination

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It is, truly, incomprehensible.

On some things – I procrastinate – for no reason. Or, no ‘apparent’ reason.

On the other hand, some things that I could leave for a day or more, I do immediately.

So, all my editing work is done. Completed. Sent back to the authors.

Lessons are prepared.

Booking of a couple of restaurants – not done. The alarm goes off on my mobile phone calendar. I reset the alarm ‘for later’. Even as I do it, I wonder why. The call will take about 2 minutes. And, yet, I put it off again. I really don’t know why.

Well, writing this post has made me get the telephone numbers, at least. I suppose that’s something. It’s like ‘I’m getting there’ but oh, sooooo slowly.

The first is in a couple of weeks. Someone who had been my best friend for quite a number of years, is coming to Milan. With his wife. It could be nice or ‘strained’. I don’t know. I’m not even sure if I want F to be with us or not. In some way I do but in another way, I’m really not that bothered in ‘showing him off’.

It reminds me of a time, many, many years ago. A really good friend and I were always competing with each other. You know the sort of thing. “We’ve just moved to a new house”; “I’ve just got a new car”; “I’ve just been promoted”.

Except, for some strange reason I decided to ‘opt out’ of this competing game. I decided not to tell him that I had got a new car. When he and his wife arrived to stay for a weekend soon after, they saw the new car in the driveway. I got some sort of sadistic satisfaction from seeing his jaw drop. In a way, I was still competing. Just in a different way. As if, by NOT bragging about it, I was actually bragging more! If you see what I mean.

And so it is with this ex-best friend. If F doesn’t want to go, of course, then I’m certainly not going to push. I don’t know how awkward it will be. And, as he’s not English, it will be all the more difficult to follow, for him.

The next is a booking I must make for D&S. They are coming over for their first wedding anniversary. I have a restaurant I want to book for them which is ‘magic’ in terms of place and food (if not service). I think it is perfect for their first anniversary. We shan’t be with them that day as they want to spend it together – which is how it should be, of course. But I do want their evening meal to be a bit special.

And, yet, I still haven’t booked these restaurants. And I can’t possibly tell you why.

It’s completely inexplicable.

The last few days

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We did bitch about Italians quite a bit. It makes me feel a bit guilty but it was really all about shared experiences and, unfortunately, most of them would be about Italy and Italians.

It was beautiful weather. We arrived late – very late – after I had been to Bologna to pick her up.

Saturday was walking the dogs, having a coffee at the cafe in the centre of the town and then the beach.

Saturday night was dinner at La Brace (see restaurants on the right). This was fabulous and some spectacular wine except for one thing – we had Fiorentina (a steak from Tuscany) but, unfortunately, it was overcooked.

However, very nice.

Sunday, I had planned to take her to Le Cave (where they extract the marble) but I woke up really late and so, after the dog walk, it was just the beach again.

We left later than I wanted but, still, it only took 3 hours to get back – the traffic queues being at the start instead of the end.

It was nice but I miss F when I’m there. Still, from now on, he should be with me :-)

Rice Pudding with anchovy sauce.

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It looked like rice pudding. It had the right, creamy texture and when I took the first mouthful it was sweet and, really, like rice pudding.

Of course, the anchovy sauce and mozzarella made it risotto and not rice pudding at all. Still, in my head it had been rice pudding and not risotto and so, it tasted strange. Not unpleasant, just not what I thought.

I was introduced to customers and staff (that I didn’t know) as his boyfriend. Apparently, some people didn’t really believe that. He is proud of that fact even if he did say that I was lucky to have him as my boyfriend – which is true, in any event.

The people are nice, even if they are in the fashion world.

The food was mountainous. Too much even for the hundreds of people there. I didn’t eat much. I’d eaten lunch and had been stuffed full last weekend.

I had a glass of prossecco but then saw they had a bar with Campari and Cinzano – so, from then on it was Americanas. I probably should have stopped at the fourth – but didn’t. F told me he was quite drunk. Then the next time I saw him was with a very full glass of wine. I guess he was going to enjoy himself.

Some people went outside to smoke a joint. Outside – on the pavement, on a busy road. In the UK I’m sure (but I really don’t know), they would have been hiding away. Here, it seems better to do it out in the open.

There was dancing by the end. All a little bit crazy. All a little bit drunk. We got to bed about 12.30, completely shattered – and we had to be up early this morning as F was going away and I was taking him to the airport. He’s gone until Thursday.

During the evening, I looked at him doing his thing and thought how much I truly loved him.

It was a great evening with the designer, at one stage, cycling round the showroom whilst a photographer took some pics and, afterwards, dancing with the ‘girls’ some of whom are, of course, not really young enough to be called girls (and I’m being quite polite here).