Category Archives: Friends and Inimies

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

No changes here, then?

Posted on by
Reply

Although the Buzz Lightyear-owned press and media tried to bury all the latest about Mr Berlusconi and his shenanigans, most people do have something to say about it. But I read, today, that he and his party are gaining in approval rating.

This is not a surprise, really.

I have an American friend (As), born, I learnt yesterday, of Italian parents and, actually born in Milan (although she was really brought up in New Jersey) who was exasperated and annoyed with the whole thing and was saying that this country (Italy) was terrible and that she didn’t want to live here any more. She just couldn’t understand how people could accept what was happening.

So, I put my point of view (at that point I knew nothing about the Italian lineage she had).

My point was that these things are so deep inside [all – with some few exceptions, it would seem] Italians that it is almost at the very root of their life.

I have said before but it’s worth repeating. There is an acceptance, nay proudness, of mens’ ability to have sex with a beautiful woman (of whatever age) that when an old codger, past real retirement age, can be so successful with the women, he is not seen as a bad person but rather there is an almost heroic quality that Italians seem to see. I’ve had quite a few men here allude to the fact that they have a mistress – or, even, speak proudly of the fact. It’s the ‘done’ thing. And it is becoming more acceptable for women too. This is not seen to make any difference to the perceived qualities of the person – this is just normal life – at least, in many Italians’ view.

Then there is the Mafia connection. As I said to As – how many people does she know here who would not, given the chance, pay a little less for their meal – as long as they accepted they wouldn’t have to have a receipt? She agreed that it wasn’t many. And that general culture means that the Mafia (as a loose term) thrives here. You scratch my back and I’ll scratch yours.

Both these things seem so ingrained in the ‘people’. As asked how it was supposed to change. I replied that I didn’t know that it could be changed. And, so, Buzz epitomises your average Italian who has ‘done well’. He is rich and successful (and who doesn’t do the best they can to pay less and do favours for people) – and so his supposed Mafia connections are, in fact, only an extension to the normality of things here – and who would throw the first stone when you had €10 knocked off the bill from your restaurant meal last night? It’s the same thing, more or less.

And he is so virile that he can have sex with a number of women in the same night (apparently) – what Italian isn’t envious of him – or, if not envious, then a hearty ‘Good Luck to you mate’ would seem in order.

And so he remains. He is a ‘good’ man, apparently. He’s a little bit ‘squidgy’ round the edges but who isn’t here?

In most other European countries he would, of course, have had to resign. But these bad things he has done are to some degree a way of life, even THE way of life and for all the huffing and puffing, there’s no real will to relieve him of his duties.

And, Lola, before you comment, I know that not all Italians are like that. It just seems that there are too many of them all around (probably a majority?) to be able to fight the good fight and make real changes when really, most of the population don’t want things to change – at least, not these things.

Well, they’re fashion people of some sort, I suppose (but how would I know?)

Posted on by
4

Well, I guess that I should be telling you about meeting some of the good and the great of the fashion industry.

Except that, apart from them all appearing to be very rich, I haven’t the faintest clue who they were. There were some fat men. There were some, ahem, ladies past their prime. There was a hat designer who came late, sporting a hat that (for those of you from the UK) would be best suited on some working class, washerwoman – a lot in the style of the wife of Andy Capp or, even, not unlike the way that Hilda Ogden used to be dressed on Coronation Street (but without the rollers in her hair).

Some woman, of a certain age (which was, actually, very uncertain – but O L D nonetheless), with a bright orange bouffant but very thinning hair-do and a very pale complexion caused either by her being very ill or by her applying a whitening mask to hide the liver spots, which, by the way, was unsuccessful, thought that the hat was wonderful. She is like Anna Wintour, apparently. Everyone had to agree with her even if they, secretly hated it (and, certainly, the few people around me DID hate it).

Some woman next to me kept jabbering at me in Italian. I understood some of it. We had a conversation …… of sorts. F says sorry to me for having to be somewhere where everyone is speaking Italian. I tell him not to worry and that, if it becomes a problem, I will tell him.

I was there, after all, not for my pleasure, exactly but to be introduced (or should it be ‘shown off’) to some friends of his.

“It will be very fashion”, he tells be beforehand. Everyone will be from the fashion world. Although, as it turned out, there was also C, Fi’s husband and he’s NOT fashion but a chef. These were the people with whom we were supposed to spend Christmas and New Year. Apparently, they had organised a special party for New Year, in F’s honour. He is their ‘jewel’, so I was told.

I am to like P, even if I don’t like her. She is part owner of a rather large business in Italy. She has a house in Venice. And a ‘Guest House’ nearby. This Guest House is lavish and huge, apparently. F wants to take me there. P says that she doesn’t like Venice apart from going there a couple of days every so often. I don’t say it but for me it is the most romantic city in the world. It beats Paris, hands down.

We are at a ‘chic’ restaurant. Ristorante da Gaspare. I won’t link to it as it would be unfair. I am led to believe it is expensive. We had some antipasto of shrimps and clams. Some pizze and foccia. And then the biggest branzino I’ve ever seen was wheeled to our table – then taken away to be served up in smaller dishes so that we could help ourselves.

I don’t know how much was paid but I think it was a lot. The branzino was wonderful – but I didn’t get much. Nor did most other people (except the fat bloke almost opposite me – which explains his fatness, I would think). A couple of people had sweets. I tried one. It wasn’t up to much. The rest of it I could take or leave, really.

The atmosphere was great – for the people we were with. The place itself lacked atmosphere being bright and more like a canteen. I’m sure the fish was very fresh but it wasn’t really anything special.

Fi and C were lovely. They bought presents – for us for Christmas – some stone dogs which, apparently, in Austria (or in one town/village in Austria anyway) people put outside their houses to warn people that they have a dog. It was sweet of them. There was one for me and one for F. F pointed out that, if we put them outside our front door they would be nicked. Fi hadn’t thought of that. There was also a special cake for F’s birthday. Bless them. They think the world of him, I can tell. I think I passed the test :-) I think they liked me.

They were all nice people, really. Even the small fat guy who, if I hadn’t been told he was married – with a grown-up son – I would have placed as being the most gay of all gay people at that table (there was only F and I). He wore, round his neck, a black scarf – no, more like a shawl – with beads round the edge. It was more feminine than all of the ladies at the table! His wife was lovely.

F told me that the lady wearing the Missoni dress was a journalist. Married to the old guy with the pin stripe at the other end of the table. I’m guessing he was ‘something’ in fashion. I was more amazed that it was a Missoni dress. It looked much like something you could pick up in a junk shop – something from the 70s. I didn’t say anything. F surprises me sometimes and he obviously has a great deal of knowledge about his industry – but doesn’t say anything to me, much.

Before the event, though, he did say that, as it was very ‘fashion’ I should dress accordingly. I dressed in my normal ‘smart’ way – as I would for any night out with friends, or, even him! I don’t know whether that was right or not. He doesn’t ever tell me and I don’t want to ask.

We are, apparently, to meet up for an evening out with P. She seems nice although with her head somewhere else half the time. Still, I don’t dislike her and she is a good friend of F’s – or maybe Fi’s – I’m not really sure.

Fi didn’t really stop talking. She is almost as bad as F’s sister! We are to go there in May or something, when the weather is better. And, probably, after Rufus has left us.

This morning I took F to the airport. He is away for 11 days. I can’t wait for him to be back ……. already!!!

p.s. below is a clip where Jennifer Saunders is wearing almost the same hat as I mentioned above – except hers is a dark colour and this one, the other night was bright pink! Enjoy the clip anyway, it is very funny.

French and Saunders version of The Exorcist!

Stop looking for your soulmate

Posted on by
2

For those of you who have been reading this blog over the last 2 years or so, you will know that, having thought I had found my soulmate, I found that I hadn’t, apparently. At the end of it I thought that, given my age and, having already done it all twice before, I wouldn’t even be able to find someone else to live with but then I changed my mind. I decided that I DID need to be with someone and that there had to be someone out there, somewhere, who was looking for me. I did the internet dating thing to save myself having to go to bars and clubs, seeing it, as I do, as an alternative to those social places.

I was determined. I don’t know that I ever thought I would find my soulmate or, even, if that was important. What was important was to find the ‘person for me’. I had some preconceived ideas about who that would be. The criteria narrowed after a short while. They couldn’t be too young nor too old. In the end I found someone and, to be honest, that someone was a surprise and (partially) unexpected. But I remain intrigued about how people find their soulmates and, even, if that really exists or if it is your soulmate but only for a period of time (that period being undetermined and indeterminable).

I remember my sister. She, as I told her more than once, always tried too hard. Her criteria, it seemed, was always non-existent. If they moved and were male it was enough. Now I look back on that as probably her trying to hard to be straight and conform, since she has a girlfriend now.

I was at a friend’s house on Sunday. She is setting up this internet dating lark. She is very clear. She doesn’t expect to find the perfect man on the internet – only to determine exactly what she DOES want. To be able to refine her criteria. But, I wonder, is she just saying that?

Anyway, I was interested to read this:

Relationship gurus expend enormous amounts of energy debating whether “opposites attract” or, conversely, whether “birds of a feather flock together” – largely, it seems, without stopping to reflect on whether relying on cheesy proverbs might be, more generally, a bad way to think about the complexities of human attraction. Should you look for a partner whose characteristics match yours, or complement yours? The conclusion of the Pair Project, a long-term study of married couples by the University of Texas, is, well, neither, really. “Compatibility”, whether you think of it as similarity or complementarity, just doesn’t seem to have much to do with a relationship’s failure or success, according to the project’s founder, Ted Huston: the happiness of a marriage just isn’t much correlated with how many likes, dislikes or related characteristics a couple does or doesn’t share. Compatibility does play one specific role in love, he argues: when couples start worrying about whether they’re compatible, it’s often the sign of a relationship in trouble. “We’re just not compatible” really means, “We’re not getting along.” “Compatibility” just means things are working out. It simply renames the mystery of love, rather than explaining it.

According to the US psychologist Robert Epstein, that’s because a successful relationship is almost entirely built from within. (He cites evidence from freely entered arranged marriages, arguing that they work out more frequently than the unarranged kind.) All that’s really required is two people committed to giving things a shot. Spending years looking for someone with compatible qualities may be – to evoke another cheesy proverb – a classic case of putting the cart before the horse.

For F, of course, his most ‘successful’ previous relationship was with a blue-eyed, English, Taurean. He cites this often as if to explain why he is with me. He is saying that it is ‘inevitable’ that we would be together. Conversely, of course, it could also be inevitable that we will split up!

I look for things that we like ‘together’ and find few. I worry that we don’t have enough in common, the most obvious being my love of all food whereas he is so picky. As I said to my friend (mentioned above), if F and I had met in some bar or club, I’m not sure that either of us would have given the other a second look. We met only because we had chatted for some time first.

Yes, the pictures I saw of him – he was sexy. But, mainly, he was funny – he had the ability to make me laugh and feel better. He still does and may it long continue.

As his friend R said, he was ‘ready’ when we met. So was I. We both wanted the same thing and so, together, we can get the same thing from each other.

And, I suppose, that’s why V and I split up. We no longer wanted the same things. F is not V in any way. V wasn’t M in any way. F and M are not similar either. Being compatible or not seems, as it says, to be unimportant as to whether it works or not. You (both) just have to WANT it more than anything and be prepared to step off the deep end and see how it goes.

And that, together with making those small sacrifices to make your partner happy seem to be the only requisites to have a happy and loving relationship – for however long that lasts.

For the above ‘piece of advice’ plus other tips (that can replace your New Year’s resolutions) go here and enjoy :-)

F’s Birthday and stuff

Posted on by
6

Well, further to my post below, Rufus seems much better. Ain’t it always the way? But I know better than to assume that he will remain this way for long.

Last night we went to Giacomo – it was F’s birthday. I had raw scampi to start (and some of F’s raw tuna) and branzino (sea bass) with artichokes as a main. F had the mixed raw fish to start and then a cooked tuna steak (he loves tuna and has it whenever he can). A nice bottle of wine, some mirto and then home.

This being a restaurant that is, as F would say, very fashion, there are the great and the good of Milan and many of the rich tourists or others who are here for business. In this case, there was a model who, apparently, used to work for Helmut Lang. However, I didn’t even recognise the name. Apparently, Giacomo has opened a new restaurant near Piazza Duomo, with views over the city. We are to go there for my birthday, I am advised :-).

Yesterday, I went to see FfC and go out for lunch. She is getting ready to return to work next week after months off whilst she had a baby. The baby is about 7 months old now. He is big. She suggested he looks like his father and asked me what I thought. As I’ve said before, babies, to me, just look like babies and not like either of the parents or anyone else for that matter. So that’s what I said.

Then, later, after we had been out for lunch, she was sitting on one of the sofas opposite me and the baby waved at me. Apparently they’ve been trying to get him to wave for a while so she was delighted that he had, finally, done it. She was going to phone R, the father, as soon as I had gone, to tell him.

She told me, during lunch, that she had, really, given up on the idea that she would become a mother and that was when she found herself pregnant. Maybe there’s a thing about trying too hard. We also spoke about FfI. FfI went back to her home country for Christmas and New Year. She planned to spend Christmas with her family and then New Year with her daughter who is in another part of the country. Her common line is ‘I hate Milan’, quickly followed by ‘I want to go back to my country’. I always thought – well, go then!

I email her to wish her a happy New Year. She emails me back to tell me that she cried every day (and that everyone except her one brother, she had fights with), she spent New Year’s Eve in a motel room all alone and that she was cold and miserable and couldn’t wait to get back to Milan. She also promised that she would never say that she hated Milan again. We shall see. To be honest, I feel sorry for her. What a dreadful way to spend Christmas and New Year! But FfC and I were talking (and we have much the same views on most things) and agreed that it’s really important to be ‘happy’ with what you have and where you are.

Milan may not be the most beautiful city in the world, nor with the best climate but it has charm and a character of it’s own. Without coming to Milan there are so many experiences that I simply would not have experienced, both good and bad, things that I would not have enjoyed and have made my life richer and more fulfilled as a result. Of course, the main thing is that I would not have met F and, for that, I would never want to change the past because it is the past that has led me here and to this point.

We also spoke (FfC and I) about V. She was quite disappointed when he didn’t turn up one evening because he was shopping for a new outfit for Christmas, after she had prepared food and everything – and he didn’t even text or phone but relied on FfI to tell her. It made me so grateful that I am no longer responsible, in any way, for him. I explained to her that my thinking on the reasons why he had, effectively, cut me off from his life was that (and I learned this from FfI) he had been telling the new boyfriend that ‘the breakup had left him with so much debt’. She was as incredulous as I had been. But it is his way and if I were too close, there would be questions from other people which would lead me to tell the truth and the truth would not be what he wanted others to hear. Ah well. At least, now, I can understand the reason even if it’s a poor one. I remember telling him, when there was the previous boyfriend – ‘don’t lie about stuff’. For lying always, at some point, bites you in the ass further down the line. But, with him, he always seems to get away with it. He is, as FfC says – always being ‘fabulous’. Fabulousness is all about show and does not necessarily have any substance. And it’s so true of him. I just hope that the fabulousness doesn’t wear off any time.

New Year with people you don’t even know!

Posted on by
2

Well, none of it was quite as expected. We didn’t exactly plan anything but we both had a rough idea as to what would happen, how things would go down. But none of that really happened.

And, yet, it was really most enjoyable. I mean both Christmas and the New Year. But let’s get on to New Year’s Eve.

So, P, my neighbour and her friend came round about 9. We suggested P bring her dogs so that they wouldn’t get frightened by the fireworks. I said we could give it a try. Her rescue dog is a mongrel but quite vicious. Always barking when she sees Rufus or Dino and actually attacking them. However, together, in the house they were fine and so busy concentrating on each other that they didn’t even notice the fireworks – which was a very good thing.

Dinner was good – plenty of wine and food and conversation (although mostly in Italian). F, at one point, mistakenly called me by the name of his ex, S. I found this really funny and it wasn’t a bad thing (although I know that most people won’t agree). I look at it this way – now he is relaxed with me and we are so much a ‘couple’ that we can, almost, be compared to his other long-term relationship, so that he is comfortable with it. And this is only after just over a year! Anyway, that’s how I see it.

Then we played burraco until about 1.30 in the morning. It was the first time they had played it so, apart from the last hand, we played open hands. However, it was nice and P’s friend especially enjoyed it. F decided that he wanted to clean up afterwards. I’m afraid this is not my thing really. Before they came round he spent about 2 hours cleaning my flat. He has even bought some cleaning stuff that he likes and uses. Bless him. Anyway, I took the dogs out and he started cleaning. When I cam back he told me that the sink was blocked. This is from the fat that we poured down the sink from the zampone. Damn! I had forgotten what it was like. It was the same last year except that, last year, we had only just got together and so I did all this on my own (the next day, obviously).

And so, about 2 a.m. I am dismantling the pipes under the sink. Of course, I was not at my best at that moment and completely forgot how much water the two sinks hold. Although I had a bucket to catch the water, one was not enough and so there was water all over the kitchen! And then we had to clean that first before F could continue with the washing-up! He was really angry about it all whereas I was just laid back about it – like I am. I mean to say, there was nothing we could do about it except clean it up, so why get angry about it – it doesn’t make things better. Such is life. And so, in the end, we got to bed about 3.30 a.m. But F was right, it was much nicer to get up to in the morning.

And this morning, I asked him if he could remember the name of P’s friend. He said ‘no’ and that he was sure they were never introduced or introduced themselves to each other. I know I was and I know it was a strange name (or, at least, I think I know it was a strange name).

And, so, we spent New Year’s Eve with a woman I barely know from next door (although F knows her from years ago) and her friend that I don’t even know the name of! It’s a strange life I lead here. For certain, that would never have happened in the UK. I like my life here. It continues to be strange and challenging and improvised and with many surprises (most of which are good). Long may it continue this way.

In spite of everything, I hope he cheers up a bit.

Posted on by
4

The alarm goes off at 4, as I had set it. I reset it for 10 past. But, as I have actually made the appointment, I get up within 5 minutes and get ready and go.

I arrive. He doesn’t recognise me from yesterday. I am, after all, wearing exactly the same coat, scarf and hat as yesterday. He is, to say the least, quite a miserable barsteward.

I give him my surname. He finds the appointment. I give him my phone number. He mistake a nine for an eight. I know my Italian pronunciation is not good but for goodness sake, otto and nove could not really be confused. I decide he is quite stupid really.

He tells me that if he doesn’t phone me that I am to come back before 7 (when they close).

I walk away, happy that I am, at least, doing the something that I should have done a month or more ago.

About 6 he phones me. I walk back to the place.

He is there. Some car is jacked up, without wheels. He gets inside. A man standing with him (who I realise is the car owner) wants something from inside the car. Between them they retrieve it. They speak some more and the man goes away. He starts swearing in Italian. The man has, obviously, pissed him off. I smile at him as if I understand what was going on. ‘Stupid customers’, I thought. He doesn’t smile back. I guess it’s not a good day for him.

I pay for my tyres and he gives me my keys. I have already seen my car and noted that, where they had parked it, there is a car blocking my way out. I ask him if he knows the car that is blocking it. Begrudgingly, he comes out and looks. Well, now, that’s a surprise, it is one of the cars in for a tyre change. He realises and retrieves the key to move it. We walk to the other side of the street and he goes to move the car but before he gets in, I notice some ‘packages’ on my back seat. I question him about why the tyres are not being stored in their storehouse – as we had talked about yesterday. He is not happy. He mumbles something and moves the car that is blocking my way out and then returns to the ‘shop’.

I follow. I don’t know what the hell is going on but I ain’t moving nowhere. He comes out and crosses the road. He gets out the tyres and puts them in the warehouse. This is not done with any joy. In fact, he is using the same swear words that he used with the last customer. At times like this I do wish my Italian were better – just so I could say something really sarcastic to him. This new law must have given them so much business and yet he is not happy about it! I imagine nothing makes him happy, really.

I go into the office with him. He takes down all my details. I ask if I need a receipt or something to prove that I have my tyres in their storehouse. Apparently not. He has all my details and that’s enough. I say I will come back in March. He suggests April is OK too. I set the date in my calendar on my phone. I set it for March because, if I am like I usually am, it will take me a few weeks to build up my courage to go back and go through all this shit again.

On the bright side, I have tyres and don’t need to worry about snow. Yay!

I hope that he cheers up a bit too.

I go to pick up F to go and get the lasagne. We were so impressed with the one for Christmas we have bought the same for New Year. It’s for 6 people so will last three days and it was truly wonderful. So creamy.

We talk about the fact that I have met P (a neighbour on my floor that knew F at the time when he was working in the shop). She has two dogs. She is staying home on New Year’s Eve for much the same reason as we are. The dogs don’t like fireworks and people go a bit crazy, here, with them. We agree that we shall invite her round for dinner. We have champagne, good wine, the lasagne, antipasto stuff and then the zampone and lentils. I will also do mashed potato (because F likes that). What more could you ask for?

That was the Christmas that was!

Posted on by
8

And so, that was Christmas.

In the end, it wasn’t just the four of us. Christmas Eve, I was chatting to one of my students on Facebook chat and she asked me what I was doing so I told her. Obviously, I asked what she was doing and she said that she was on her own. So, more obviously, I invited her to join us for Christmas lunch. Well, it is the season of giving and goodwill to all men (and women) and all that sort of stuff, isn’t it? The thought of someone I know (even if only a student) on their own on Christmas day would have been unbearable.

There was plenty of food. In fact we didn’t do everything that we had planned. But we did have antipasto and cold meats, followed by the lasagne (which was fantastic) and then my roast veal (which was OK – but not as nice as it should be) and the Yorkshire puddings failed – I have to find out why – it doesn’t make sense – but everything else was good – including my mince pies.

And we had presents. F was really happy with my main present to him. After the camera thing (that he decided to buy himself), FfI suggested I buy him a printer to print pictures – and knowing he likes doing compilation CDs for everyone, I bought him a printer that does photos and CDs as well. He was really happy. And I bought him a jumper from Zara that he said he had looked at in Madrid and nearly bought. So, a great success. Luckily I had also bought the scarf made by Lola – so instead of F getting it, I gave it to S (the waif and stray student). She was overjoyed with it. So, thank you Lola – without that I would have had nothing to give her.

So, although it didn’t all go as expected, I think it was a success. After we took the dogs for a walk and S had left, we went to watch ‘Prancer’ (La rene – in Italian) – that I gave F last year because it is his favourite film for Christmas. But he fell asleep within a second – and so we stopped watching it. Then there was Ratatouille (in Italian) on the TV.  We watched it for a little.  F fell asleep again.  So I tidied up the kitchen and took the dogs out and went to bed.  I was asleep before 11.  F was still asleep lying on the bed, fully clothed.  He woke up and felt cold so got into bed with me and we both went to sleep.

During the day he had phoned S (his ex) and we chatted for a few moments.  S asked what we were doing for New Year.  I said we were just staying home. He laughed and said that F never wanted to do anything except stay at home.  And it is true.  But now I realise he has always been like this.  But, for me, it is fine.  In fact, it is good and exactly what I like to do.  I suspect that this thing was one of the reasons that they broke up in the end.  After all, that was more like V &; I – V wanting to go out more than me.

And, we have had more of cleaning.

“I’ll just clean a little bit the flat”, he says.  I have never corrected his English on this.  It’s kinda cute and I like it a lot.  There has been much ‘cleaning a little bit the flat’ – although the bedroom remains a major thing to be ‘tidied up’.  In fact, this morning he says ‘That has to go’ – to a bag full of envelopes.  It’s OK.  It means he is much more comfortable here.

Rufus has been bad again since yesterday.  And he ‘staggers’ sometimes – falling forwards or sideways – unable to stand upright so well.  Poor thing.  However, it’s a good job we didn’t go to Vienna with him like this.  I would have felt so guilty.  And it’s much more comfortable for him to be in his own environment – the place that he knows.  Bless him.

And now F has gone to work.  He has to re-do the shop window.  I need to do some shopping and I have a lesson tonight, unfortunately.

In the meantime, I give you the photo of the mince pies :

Homemade Mince Pies

It seems I collect plastic carrier bags. Who knew?

Posted on by
Reply

I can’t find the post where I first mentioned it but I’m sure I did.

I certainly told a lot of people.

And then, yesterday, finally, it happened.  It starts off like a normal day except that it isn’t a normal day at all.  Firstly, I am on holiday.  Secondly, I have found a recipe for mince pies – which includes making your own mincemeat.  I’ve never done it before and finding all the ingredients was, shall we say, a bit of a challenge.  In the end I didn’t find everything but I did, eventually, find stem ginger which for me was the most important part.  Mixed spice doesn’t have to be mixed spice (but can be a mixture of spices I can find) – suet can be replaced by butter, special sugar can be replaced by other sugar, etc.  But stem ginger couldn’t really be replaced.  I found some and so it was a green light.

So, I start the mincemeat.

I had promised to go visit FfC, picking up FfI (who is now living, not in Isola but in V’s flat) so I could pick up my cushions for the sofa.  I was late.  When I got there, as usual, she huffed and puffed about the fact that it was too late and she didn’t think she would go now.  I’m like ‘whatever’.  It’s the cutting off the nose to spite the face thing and it annoys me a lot.  I don’t bite.  I don’t say ‘Oh. please come’.  I really don’t care.  If she comes she comes and it will be nice and if she doesn’t then it will be nice too.

She decides to come.  I think ‘Don’t try these games on me lady – I lived with V for over 20 years!’

She tells me that FfC has done lunch!  I wasn’t expecting that.  We go.  FfC’s mother is there, over from Canada.  FfC now has a baby.  It is lovely (the time, not the baby).  I have a nice time and I really love FfC.  Her baby is a baby.  Her Mum keeps trying to give it to me.  I decline.  Several times.  She asks me who I think it looks like.  I explain that I don’t do that.  Babies look like babies and I can never see any parent in them.  They all look, more or less, the same – like a baby.  I’m not really a baby person.

I agree to take FfC to the butchers so she can get her turkey.  F calls and suggests that I call by at his office to collect boxes, as I have the car.  I then drop FfI off at a bank and make my way to his office.

He has shoe boxes.  A lot of them.  We fill up the space in the car that remains after the cushions had been put in (they are BIG).  We drive home to my place. He helps me with carrying stuff up and decides to stay rather than go home.  In itself, this is unusual.  But I like it.

He starts suggesting that, perhaps he should do a bit of sorting out of the lounge.  Or the kitchen.  This thing that he has been threatening to do for a while now (and for which I can’t find the post).  I am nervous.  We would have done it last Sunday but An couldn’t get back to the UK. But I’m not really prepared for it now. However, if he wants to do it ………..

It seems he does.  He starts.  I am supposed to ‘throw things away’.  Hmmmm.  He is shocked by my collection of carrier bags.  I collect them to line the rubbish bin.  We find so many I will never need to have another bag for a year, probably!

Things get put into shoe boxes with the contents written on the outside.  Boxes get stacked in cupboards.  He is going to be here next time my cleaner is here, he says, to explain to him how to clean properly.  He is like a mad man.  Every surface has to be cleaned.  It is quite scary..

The kitchen is slowly re-ordered.  Everywhere is cleaned.  It seems he is in his element.  All the items on the top of the kitchen cupboards get put somewhere else (inside a cupboard).  All the bottles and things on top of the fridge get put inside cupboards.  It is hard work and, mostly, I am watching!

I would have stopped after about 1 hour.  He is going to finish it because ‘I won’t sleep if anything is left to do’, he says.

At half past ten, I take the dogs out.  At midnight I go to bed.  At 2 a.m., or thereabouts, he comes to bed.  The kitchen is the same and yet changed.

‘I will check it once a week’, he says.  I laugh.  ‘I am serious’, he says.  ‘I know you are’, I reply, laughing still – laughing because I know he will.

This morning, it being Christmas Eve, I must go to the supermarket and get the veg.  He tells me I must also get some things for the bathroom.  He is going to ‘do’ the bathroom.  Maybe later today.

Tomorrow, he will do the lounge as I am doing the cooking and as he is preparing the dining table.  He will too.  He says he enjoys it.  He is, in fact, quite crazy.

But, I wonder?  What if this is the start of us living together?  Maybe he has this idea, now that we spend most of our time here, that he might as well make the house more as he would like it.  And if I can keep it more or less the same (i.e. perfectly neat and tidy), he will be happier to stay here.  And then, his house becomes more like ‘a room’ that is his?

And, so, gradually, he moves in without there being a definite move, if you see what I mean?  No point at which we are ‘living together, officially’ just a point at which he doesn’t really go to his home much any more?

Maybe?  We shall see.  In the meantime, the kitchen is better and I do, quite like it.

But now I must get on and make the Lemon Meringue Pie (for a birthday party tonight) and finish off my mincemeat and make the mince pies.  The mincemeat, after being left overnight does actually smell like mincemeat now, too!  I am very happy about that.

Have a good Christmas everyone.

And lots of love from me, F, Rufus and Dino.

Given a second chance the restaurant serves up a good meal

Posted on by
Reply

I’ve tried to find it but I can’t – unless I didn’t give the real name, of course.

I can make mistakes.  Well, sort of mistakes.  I remember going, one time, with A.  Not long after it opened.  I suggested it.  It was an alternative to K2 since I never rated K2 that highly.  I came away from this one disappointed too!  For me, it seems that Tuscan restaurants outside Tuscany were, in some way, lacking.

An has been over.  She is Milanese but has been living in London for the last 6 years or so.  She came over for an interview for a job here, in Milan.  She got the job.  So, Friday night we went to the Imperiale for L’s birthday.  An came too.  We had a fabulous evening.  L and her partner, D, were fabulous hosts and, anyway, it was the Imperiale – what could possibly go wrong?

In a word – nothing.  It was fabulous.  By far the best Chinese in Milan ……………. AND, I live round the corner!

Saturday lunchtime An was leaving to return to the UK.  Unfortunately (for those of you in the UK), in case you hadn’t noticed, they’ve had a bit of what we could call ‘weather’.  The UK was almost closed.  No problem, the flight was delayed.  It would be leaving at 8 p.m.  To be honest, reading about what was going on, I didn’t think so – and I told F that.  He decided not to tell An.

So, about 7 p.m., she returned to the airport.  She was back about 9.  The flight had been cancelled because the crew had to go off shift (which is what I thought may happen).

Sunday she re-booked whilst we went out with the dogs.  Then F suggested we go for a plate of pasta at lunchtime.  He asked me where would be open.  I love that I can advise Italians who live a stone’s throw from me what is likely to be open and, mostly, give an idea of what might be good.  I remembered that the restaurant would be open and that it was Tuscan.  I told him that I thought it was a bit expensive but that it was OK.  To be honest, I didn’t remember it that well.

We walked up the street (since it is in my street) and looked at the menu displayed by the door.  F said that it wasn’t too expensive (and he was right, really).  We decided to go for it.  And, so, we entered Alle Colline Senesi.

It was full.  It is only a small restaurant.  Probably about 30 places.  There is a couple before us.  We, on the other hand, ‘are in three’.  A table for 4 becomes available and so we get to have it.  We offer to share with the couple but they really don’t seem to do that here, very much.

The menu was tempting – as was the food we saw being delivered.  We decided on some mixed antipasto.  Followed by some pasta for me, some soup for F and some melanzane parmigiana for An.  F asked about having some mix of meats but he also wanted crostini (small slices of bread with, usually for Tuscany, some rough liver pate or meat or tomatoes).

The meat arrived.  It was good.  the prosciutto was hand cut so was thicker than usual and much more like it would be in the UK.  I love it.  F was a little bit worried as the crostini (which, we were told, would come anyway, without the need to order) didn’t appear.  Then I remembered what was the worst thing about this restaurant – the service.  So slow.

We had finished the meat and were about to ask about the crostini – when it appeared.  F was happy.  The crostini consisted of one each of the rough liver pate, lardo and tomatoes with garlic.  Wonderful.

Then the main course came.  F’s soup (brodo) was thin and clear with huge pieces of ravioli; An’s parmigiana looked like something the cat had thrown up (but tasted wonderful) and I had pappardelle with cinghiale – a kind of roughly cut up lasagne or larger tagliatelle with a wild boar sauce.

The food was fantastic.  After, rather than have a main course (the portions having been more than a little generous), we had sweet.  F had zuppa inglese (like a tiramisù without coffee and with chocolate instead), An had the chestnut (or as she says, chesternut) tart and I had the poached pears.  The tart was nothing special (to me) and the poached pears could have done with cream or mascapone, in my opinion – but still, they were nice.

The whole lot, including a bottle and a half of house wine (quite good) and a bottle of water came to about €90.  Not bad really.  The service was so slow but, as F pointed out, it’s not the waiting staff that are causing the problem but that the kitchen was making everything (more or less) at the moment of serving and the waiting staff had to wait until it was ready.  And the tastes were great.  I think I could have eaten the roast pork chops with potatoes as well but I was full enough.

The thing is not to expect your meal to be done and dusted within half an hour.  We were there a couple of hours – but for a Sunday lunch that is perfect.  And, if you are prepared, for an evening meal it is fine too.  Worth the effort and I only give it 4 stars because it was a bit too slow for me.