Category Archives: Friends and Inimies

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

I take a trip to the chemist (twice)

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I decide I must go the chemist after all. It’s 3 and I decide to drive, walking will take too long and I can’t use public transport.

I get in the car and start the drive. I know which chemist I am going to. The traffic is light – well, almost non-existent. That is because this is just after 3 in the bloody morning! I got home at midnight with my tooth aching as it has done, on and off, for about 2 days. I know what the problem is – it is infected (again). I had, sort of, hoped it would go away but it hasn’t and now, instead of the pain lasting for an hour or so, it has lasted for several hours and has now woken me up at this ungodly hour.

I am in so much pain (and, being a man, this is tripled or quadrupled, of course) that I cannot do anything. When I got home at midnight the pain was bad. So much so that I texted V to ask if the chemist was till open in Corso Buenos Aires (it used to be an all-night one) and what I should get as I don’t usually do pills so really have no idea.

He says that he thinks the chemist is open and that I should ask for Synflex 550.

So, at just after midnight I trot off to the chemist – to find it no longer did the overnight opening but had a sign to say that it was now open from 8 a.m. To 8 p.m. Damn! I look for the nearest one open at this time from the list they have posted. I know where the nearest one is but it’s just too far to go, I have been out and had a few drinks and I want the pain to stop now.

I phone V. Does he have something? He says that he does but it’s not very strong. I say that that is OK by me. I go to the old flat. He has the pills ready and a glass of water. I take them, gratefully.

I go home. I go to bed. I go to sleep. Then I am up again at three and this time the pain is worse. I cannot stand the dogs who think it is time to go for a walk. I dismiss them and then feel sorry for them because it is not their fault but rather the pain’s.

I leave them to take the drive to the chemist that I am almost certain will be open.

I park, across tram lines, knowing that there will be no trams at this hour. I go to the chemist door. They are not open as such but I am invited, by a sign, to ring the bell. I ring, almost jumping up and down with the pain by now. I wait. This is taking too long. I ring again.

A bleary-eyed man arrives at the door. There is a small metal cover which he can open. He asks what I want. I tell him. Normally, at the chemist, when you ask for this stuff, they question you as to what you want it for; have you ever taken it before; before grudgingly going to get the packet.

He just asks for €10. I guess that, if you’re coming out here at this time to get this you know why you want it and have used it before. I give him 20 through the metal door that he has now opened, slightly.

He goes away. He returns quite quickly. He hands me the box and the change through the metal door. I thank him. It is as much as I can do not to tear open the box there and then and take a whole load of them.

I get in the car and drive back. In the 30 minutes or so that this whole exercise has taken, my parking place has been taken. I curse Italians and Italian drivers in particular. I drive round and find one space in a residential zone. I now live out of the zone for which I have the permit. I don’t care. I need to take the pills. I park, reasoning that between now and 7.15 when I shall leave, there won’t be anyone calling the police to have my car towed away for being parked in a wrong place.

I get back to the flat and once again, cannot greet the dogs who are happy to see me as if I have just got home from work.

I take the pills. I know that they will take effect – but, obviously, not within one second.

I wait for them to take hold. At 4.30 I go back to bed. I don’t really sleep but need to so much.

At 5.45 the alarm goes off and I find that I have slept, thank goodness.

Still, I am grateful for all-night chemists and grateful, in this case, that I live somewhere where it is possible to get to the chemist without having to travel for half an hour.

I am, unsurprisingly, very tired today.

I go to my dentist at 12.30. He will give me antibiotics and everything will be fine within a day, I know. I very much hope that I will be able to sleep tonight.

Will this make me gay?

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As a gay person I must be a bit of a disappointment to the rest of the gay community. Indeed, I have been called the straightest of gay men. Many, many years ago, at a place that I worked, we did consulting to a well-known company based in the East of London/Essex. My work colleague was rumoured to be gay by the people we worked with at our customer. He countered this by telling people how wrong they had got it and that he was married with kids (and showing them pictures to prove it) whilst I was the one that was gay! I didn’t bear any grudge but thought it quite funny that so many people had got it so wrong.

Amongst other things, this straight/gay thing means that, for instance, I don’t wear any make-up; don’t really worry about being ‘toned’ (although these days it is a young, straight thing anyway) and never, never put what I call ‘crap’, on my body. ‘Crap’ includes cream – i.e. hand cream/body cream, etc.

However, since about November of last year, when we didn’t have a working washing machine, I had to do a lot of washing by hand. This played havoc with the skin on my hands which, until that point, had been as soft as a baby’s bottom (well, almost). The thing that really frustrated me is, that, my hands never recovered and, even now, parts of them are very rough with dry skin.

So, last night, after several months of putting up with this I had to phone V to ask what handcream he used, whilst I was in the supermarket. And, for the first time, really, I have started using hand cream. I am really hoping it is a temporary measure and that within a month or so, my hands will be back to normal as I am not keen on this new normal at all.

Perhaps, I am becoming a real gay person after all?

Musing?

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musing

I am taking a break from cleaning, whilst also waiting for the Terminally Ill Techno Guy to come (now just to fix my telephone line).

I cleaned and sorted much of the bedroom and then cleaned the lounge and re-arranged everything as to how it should be.

But, I do wonder, who is it for? What real purpose does it serve? Let’s be honest, V was the home maker. He did all the curtains and the fancy stuff that made it a home. I would live without curtains – not because I want to, just because I couldn’t be bothered. And why spend all that money which could be spent on something else?

I mean, for instance, the bedroom really needs a chest of drawers. I know where it should go; I know what it should look like. And, if I got one, it would look good but I probably won’t get one now and, therefore, I will manage – for ever!

But V would have one and, somehow, it would make the bedroom just so much better. I sit here, at the open window, in the perfect flat, knowing that, if V were here, it would be better than perfect.

Unfinished but posted anyway

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30th April, Early Afternoon.

An overwhelming sense of dread strikes me as we’re walking around town, in the sunshine. I don’t tell Best Mate. She’s got enough on her plate as it is. I just can’t shake it off. Even now, as I write this (still offline) it is with me.

It is warm outside and there is nothing more I would prefer doing than sitting at some café with a beer with Best Mate watching the world go by but we are here because the furniture restorers are returning any moment now to finish off the bookcase.

Then, perhaps, I can get the lounge into some sort of order and open my boxes of books as, now, without a book to read, I feel something is missing, even if, were the books all out and on display, I wouldn’t be reading.

The time with Best Mate is nearly over. It’s far too soon, even if we seem to have done nothing. Maybe that’s why the feeling of dread. Did it come before or after she reminded me she was going home tomorrow?

The sun streams through the window making the right side of me hot. The left is cold so that I may have to put a jumper on.

The Answer to the Final Question nearly done; Swedish Meatballs; Good and Bad bits

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29th April, Early Evening.

I’ve had better days, to be frank. The saving grace was that Best Mate was with me.

At least this morning, when I woke up, there was blue sky and sun. It wasn’t really warm but OK. I was just grateful it wasn’t raining.

By the time I got back from taking the boys out it was cloudy. There were things to do. Namely, completing the answer to the Final Question (this is getting really boring, isn’t it). This meant a trip to work and then somewhere else. Best Mate sat in the car. It took a little longer than expected but now I have done everything I can. I shall know next week. Of course, the “situation” will not be finished then but at least my part will be.

Then to Ikea to get some bits. I had high hopes even if Ikea is one of the very worst places in the world (for me). I knew, more or less, what I wanted – had a list with measurements.

When we got there we first went to Costarama. This is more of a DIY place. I needed some things which I got OK. Good start.

Then to Ikea and, as it was just past lunchtime we went in as Best Mate had a real hankering for their meatballs. They were great. Proper gravy and we had them with chips. They reminded me a bit of the meatballs I had in the Mongolian restaurant here, in Milan>, which, in turn, reminded me of faggots (for my American readers, faggots are not what you think, obviously) once again. Mmmm. Really tasty. As far as I was concerned I could have gone home right there and then. However, we were here so let’s do it.

Although I did get some things, the things I really wanted were short in supply. There was so little choice in bathroom cabinets; not the right storage boxes; not the right things for the kitchen.

So, I am not much further forward which is annoying. Also, when we came out of Ikea it was to a tremendous thunderstorm. Bah!

Then I got a call from work to tell me that I am working the weekend of the show in Paris and having to drive back with the bits at the end of the show.

Well, there are things to discuss when I am back in work on Monday, that’s for sure.

And, once again, I am, in effect, without internet access. This morning there was a very slow connection but, I guess, after the rain again, this afternoon it was gone.

At the moment, I have an even slower connection via someone’s wireless but it is so slow as to not be there. I guess this will be posted tomorrow when they are supposed to have officially fixed it.

Maybe this morning was just a ploy by Telecom Italia to let me think they were not so bad after all. Let’s hope that they have fixed it by the end of tomorrow as Best Mate has bought me a USB video camera so we can see each other when we Skype and we were going to try it out when she called the little BMs this evening.

Ah well, the plan is to do Chinese tonight as I have kept to my word so far and we have been having cheap (but good) meals.

“There are no revelations. Everything you learn, you know already”

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I sit here, with the post below, not posted; with the rain outside – knowing it’s raining because of the whoosh of the cars as they drive through the driving rain; with, as I just told Best Mate, the heater that I didn’t buy last year or the year before that, or, even, the first year that I felt the cold after they had switched the building central heating off, blowing no hot air to keep me from blowing on my fingers to try and stem the feeling that my fingers were gradually shrivelling up – when they had gone cold and shiny and slippery, in the way that they do with the cold – when they won’t work properly.

And, the reason for the post below not being posted, as this one won’t be, when I am finished, is down to wonderful Telecom Italia. I have been back with them less than a week and it already feels like I have never been away. It’s the rain, I suppose.

The difference between this time and the last time I had problems with Telecom Italia (which was just before I moved to Infostrada/Wind/whatever) was that the whole conversation was in Italian. Well, I say Italian. His bit was in Italian and my bit was in a version of Italian that, using a phrase used by one of my ex-students who is now a colleague could only be described as Kill Italian Volume 105.

Still, I made myself understood. He made himself understood to me. Everything was going swimmingly until the end when I asked how long it could possibly take to fix.

“Two days”

“TWO DAYS!” I could barely keep the shock that this information had on me out of my voice. In fact so barely was it concealed that, the reality was, it wasn’t.

He made a noise which I can only describe as a cross between a laugh and a snort. The laugh because I’m sure that’s what it was but the snort because there was a certain amount of the arrogant contempt for which all Telecom Italian employees must have special training in order that they are able to master it to perfection.

I thanked him but I have no idea what for.

Perhaps it is the rain after all. I have noticed that, in general, if anything goes wrong it is when it is raining here. The radio will go silent for minutes at a time; the electricity can be a little intermittent; the telephone lines don’t work properly.

Still, on the plus side, whilst Best Mate was listening to her iPod thing (which is not an iPod at all – just something similar), I finished the book that Peter had lent me at the Mantova festival last September! Yes, it has taken me 7 months to finish a single book. Even I am disgusted with myself. Anyway, the one line that really stood out for me was the line in the post title. I just loved it.

And the book? Kalooki Nights by Howard Jacobson – page 446 in the version Peter lent me. So there you have it.

This will be posted, exactly as it is, when I have internet access.

I remain passively stupid – like any other man!

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“I have to schlep it all across to my house”, she wailed.

I remain without expression. I suggest “Why don’t you just take half?”

“If L were here, I’d get her to pick me up” (L is her daughter who is in the Caribbean as we speak).

“Why don’t you leave it here until Tuesday?”, I ask, helpfully.

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I get very excited!

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My heart starts beating very fast. My stomach has those butterflies doing a crazy dance. The future’s bright! The future is a couple of days away and I can’t believe my luck! For a moment there, all’s right with the world and my place in it.

Let me explain (a bit). Best Mate, due here next week, told me that it might not happen for various reasons. And, to be honest, last night, I came to terms with the fact that she wouldn’t be here. I understood and, anyway, I do intend to be over there come the end of May.

In fact, I had told some people here that I might change plans for next week.

However, this morning, she rang me to tell me that it was, after all, still on and she will be here on Monday evening. And, as she’s telling me this, I did get really excited. We haven’t seen each other since last year and, even though we talk quite often, I really miss her and have felt a little helpless here when she needed help from me.

But now it will be OK. She should, really, have been the first person to come and stay in The Perfect Flat but, never mind, at least she’s coming. Hurrah!

We shall chill out, drink some beer (well, me, at least, as I’m not sure if she will be drinking), talk some and, maybe, do some things depending on how she feels. But all that is unimportant when the real thing about it all is that she will be here.

She is my rock and I just love her to bits.