Category Archives: General Rambling

For posts that just go on and on and on and on and ……

Snowing in the garden

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We are lying in bed.  I turn my head and look out through the open door of the bedroom, through the hall to where the dim daylight – it is dawn – shows through the window that looks out on to the garden and lets me see that it is snowing.  I see the snow falling and the trees covered in snow.  I turn and tell F, who is just awake, that it is snowing.

Except, of course, that didn’t happen.  Yesterday, my colleagues wanted me to look up the weather on a website that I use and I found that within three hours, it had changed and forecast snow for today.

And this thing that happened, happened in a dream last night.

He doesn’t have a hallway through which I can see a window.  His flat is on the third floor and, like most houses in Milan, he has no garden in which there are snow-laden trees.  And I didn’t wake up to know that it was snowing.

However, as I stepped out of the door of the block of flats, it was, indeed, snowing.  Not as heavily as in my dream and not covering anything but, still………

Not really so strange but, for a moment, it made the dream seem all the more real.

The Lamb and the Penguin

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They sit there, the penguin in front of the lamb staring straight ahead.

As you may remember, Christmas was a difficult time this year.  Not difficult being with F, which was wonderful, nor was it difficult doing the meal, even if we didn’t have goose or Christmas pudding or bread sauce or brandy sauce or any of the usual things.

No, it was difficult because we had been seeing each other for only a couple of months and I had no idea what the hell to buy for him and, in the end, on my wonderful Christmas Eve shopping trip, I bought lots of little things, some very cheap – but, in the end, it was OK and I think he liked them.

The last shop I went to was a toy shop.  I was looking for something particular.  We have become big fans of Shaun the Sheep, an animated figure appearing in stories and by Aardman, the people who bought you Wallace and Gromit.  Below is Sheepless Nights which is the funniest bit I have ever seen.  Unfortunately, it keeps being removed from YouTube and so may not work for long.  Enjoy.

And so, there I am, passing this shop that I know but have never been in and I pop in to see if they have something like Shaun.  I explain that I want a sheep.  She takes me to the rack with the soft-toy sheep.  she picks one up. I just burst out laughing.  I explain that it can’t possibly be a sheep as it looks like a gorilla.  She laughs too because it is true but assures me it is a sheep.  However, since I want something that looks more like Shaun, a gorilla simply won’t do, even if it is supposed to be a sheep.

We (I) settle on one that, although similar to Shaun, does not have the black face or legs.

The other thing he had said he liked was penguins since they were new things on FarmVille, just before Christmas and so, previously, I had bought a small penguin.

And now, on the edge of the wide arm of the new sofa, they sit staring out.  I don’t know if he really likes them or if he puts them there because I bought them or because of how he feels about me or some combination of all of those things – but it makes me feel good anyway.  And I smile even now, as I think about it.

Somewhere between three and four

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I said we are three but that’s not quite correct.

I get up five minutes earlier than ‘normal’ since the walk back is five minutes.  It is certainly easier than the 20 minutes or so that it was before.

In my bathroom I notice the things that have been ‘left’. Except I am sure they have not been left by accident nor forgetfulness but by design.  There is the cologne, the body lotion, the special stuff for his hair.  These are there for ‘next time’.  All I have is a toothbrush in his.

I have keys but only until Thursday as he needs to give them to the cleaner.  I wonder how long that will continue?  How long before that becomes a ‘pain’ and needs to be sorted?  But I shall hold my tongue.  It will be his decision and it’s not for me to ask.

We watched a DVD on his computer last night, in the lounge as the television will be going in the bedroom.  He’s there, lying on the sofa, in his pyjamas, his feet bare, his sexy ‘frodo-type’ feet.  As I take my cup to the kitchen, I touch them.  It’s difficult not to touch him – any part of him.

So we watch Mina on DVD.  Old stuff from the 70s.  Good stuff, for certain.  But then I had to go to bed and he came too.  He knows that it’s difficult for me and I can’t stay up as late as him, getting up a couple of hours earlier then him, as I have to.

And then when I got home is when I noticed the things in the bathroom and thought of the ‘Dino-licking’ clothes and the pyjama bottoms in the bedroom and remembered the conversation from last night when he asked what he had at mine.  I replied the clothes that I have just mentioned and he said that he would need to bring over a T-shirt next time.  And I didn’t really realise the significance of it but that, together with the other things which are not left by accident, means that we are not 3 but rather three and a half, I guess.

I just CAN’T do this…..

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Please put this on your status if you or someone you know is gay. My wish for 2010 is that people will understand that being gay is not a disease or a choice – people who are gay are not looking for a cure but for ACCEPTANCE and EQUAL RIGHTS. Will you make this your status for at least one hour?

I absolutely HATE chain letters, chain emails, etc.  And, for me, this is the same thing.  It was a post appearing as one of my Facebook ‘Friends’ status.

Now, what to do?  The thing is that nearly everyone at least knows someone who is gay.  Therefore, they should put it on as their status.  If they don’t, then what does that say about the person?

But, really, what difference will it make?  And, really, this is not a perfect world and there are more things to worry about than whether I have exactly the same rights as everyone else.  Yes, I know I should have and yes, it would be nice to be in a perfect world where I am recognised as equal to everyone else – but this is not a perfect world and I really don’t want to put it on my status for all my FB ‘Friends’ to feel at all guilty about not having put it on their status – lest they should offend me.

And, maybe, that’s what I find annoying?  It wouldn’t offend me if they didn’t but perhaps I would look and be somewhat ‘upset’ that they didn’t?  But, why should they?  And why should I put them in that position in the first place?

And, although I want equal rights (because, well, why not?), I’m certainly not looking to force people to accepting me.  It’s a free world.  As long as they don’t do me any harm, if they don’t want to accept me then that’s their right.  And, anyway, forced acceptance is really no acceptance at all!  Education is the key (or bad education is the opposite – one or the other – or both).  I don’t accept bigoted people or racist people and the thought that I should be made to accept them fills me with horror.  And, even if they ‘made me’ accept them – I wouldn’t really….at least, not in my head.  And, if that’s the case, then where is the acceptance?

And so I won’t put it up.  Unfortunately it may turn into one of those viral things like the ‘looking up your name in the urban dictionary online’ – which, amusing though it may be, became a little annoying after seeing it for the fifth time within a few hours.

I worry though that my FB ‘Friend’ won’t understand why I haven’t put it up?  But there’s not a lot I can do about that unless I try to explain – but no explanation really explains it.

Not a brilliant time but there are things I can do

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The day before I was angry.

Yesterday, I had a bit of a shock.  It meant that I was a bit ‘out of it’ whilst I sorted my head out.  Luckily, F came home early (well, earlier than I expected) and we watched Mamma Mia.  I haven’t told him about any of this.  Perhaps I should but, well, he’s got enough on his plate right now.

And, anyway, I needed the time to ‘sort it out in my head’.

And, this morning came the answer.  Well, I hope it’s the answer.

And, so, it’s time to get off my ass and do the things that I should have done before.  And get myself sorted and move forward and stop relying on others to do what they say they will do and just do the things that I can control and have influence over.

I should feel better now but I don’t.

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I’m a bit pissed off.

Well, actually, I’m really bloody angry.

I can’t put my finger on why.  Or with what or whom.  It just seems to be everything and everyone.

Last night, as I was leaving work I found out that I had cocked up and that what I thought was happening (according to my plan) was not happening because the plan was never transposed to the official plan and so we’re stuck with the official plan and can’t do my plan and so we will be late and the customer will go ape-shit.

Which made me late.  And I had promised Best Mate that we would speak at 6.30.  And I had only just arrived at 6.30 because the traffic was a pain and the lights were all against me and people were driving like Italians and also slowly.  And that continued into the supermarket where I had to go to get some stuff and the queue was horrendous and full of little old ladies and the little old lady in front of the woman in front of me couldn’t get the weird trolley through because the lady before her had just abandoned her trolley at the entrance to the till and the little old lady would have had to lift it up which, quite clearly, she couldn’t do but the woman in front of me was in the way and so I couldn’t help and then the woman in front of me turned slightly and I could see she was reading a book.  Reading a bloody book!  In the queue!  And that’s why she didn’t help.  And then it was her turn but she didn’t put her stuff on the belt for ages ‘cos she, too, was blocked by the trolley that the lady before the little old lady had abandoned and she ummed and ahhed about how to get her trolley through before abandoning it and I just thought how bleeding inconsiderate and stupid some people are.

And then I got home and realise I had forgotten camomile tea for F and that just annoyed me.  We have enough for now but that’s not the point.  And then I found that my useless bloody cleaner had not done all the ironing like I had said and had ignored my text about just doing the bathroom and the kitchen and doing the ironing and had not ironed sheets which meant I had to iron them but I couldn’t ‘cos I was Skyping Best Mate and Best Mate was more important than ironing sheets but by the time we had finished some 3 hours plus later it was too late to iron them and then change the bed.

And so now I do it tonight.  And then F arrived home (he had been to the new flat to paint the final coat on the bed) and it was late and I was tired but we didn’t go to bed straight away and so I am more tired than last night now, as I write this.

And so I’m pissed off but, actually, a little angry.  And if, today, one more person, whilst I’m talking to them answers the bloody phone and then spends ten minutes having an ‘important’ conversation which, in reality is not important and, certainly, no more important than the conversation that I’m having with them – I will, most definitely, KILL THEM!

There!  I should feel better now but I don’t.

The problem with Italian men……..

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“I hope I don’t get …………..”

or

“I think I’m getting………………”

Two of the staple sentences for Italian males.

As happened a number of times on Saturday/Sunday.

It’s not a big thing, nor that important but it does make me want to say ‘Oh, for fuck’s sake”.

So, a shaving rash (which is quite obviously what it was) together with a headache (which I always struggle to accept fully) means that it could, possibly, maybe, perhaps – be the start of a fever.

The problem is that their loved ones pander to this and so reinforce the idea that it’s OK to come out with this crap each time you see something or feel something.  It starts with the mother and continues with the partner.

And I am not better than any other partner but, you know……

A habit that I like

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I know he’s awake.  Well, when I say ‘awake’ I mean semi-conscious, at least.

People have habits.  Each person has different habits.  Things they do that are not necessarily strange in themselves but are done to excess (comparatively) or are fashioned only by some ‘freaky’ way that their body is built or their mind works.

I have the ‘habit’ of washing my hands.  I do it a lot.  My hands feel ‘dirty’ often and I take every opportunity to wash them.  Well, that’s not entirely true.  I am aware this is some sort of Obsessive Compulsive Disorder and so I actually stop myself from doing it quite often – aware that, in fact, it is not really necessary.  But, for instance, when I put hand cream on (which I have to do since the end of 2008, at least from time to time) my immediate thought is that I want to go and wash my hands.  Which I don’t do, obviously, since it would negate the effects of the hand cream and, anyway, it was because of prolonged ‘wetness’ that they became like this in the first place.

I am sure I have many other annoying or funny habits.

F has, for me, very peculiar (but quite beautiful) feet.  If I say they are similar to the Hobbits feet from the Lord of the Rings films – but less hairy – that would give you the wrong impression.  But, in some way, they are.  Not large like Hobbits feet, nor, as I have said, hairy but he really has no ‘little toe’.  I mean to say he DOES have a little toe it’s just that it’s not so little.  In fact it looks the same as the other toes and almost as big.

But there’s a thing about his feet.  When I move my toes, including the big one, they all move together.  they are not like fingers.  What F can do and does subconsciously, I am sure, is move them individually.

And so, in bed, if his feet are pressed against my leg or feet and he is semi-conscious (i.e. as he’s waking up), he will (and this is the only way I can really describe it) drum his toes against my leg/foot.

And, like almost everything about him, I love it.  It’s a peculiar thing to him (as far as I am aware although readers may put me straight on that, I suppose) and, so, ‘special’.  And, every time it happens, I like it and think of his feet and feel safe and warm and comfortable.

Thank goodness he doesn’t actually read this blog!

Hanging pictures on the floor

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We’re hanging pictures on the floor. As one does.

Obviously, we’re not really hanging them since they won’t hang on the floor. The wall was measured and then the floor was cleared to make room and the floor was measured out. Bits of masking tape were used to mark the corners.

I brought in the pictures from the living room, a few at a time. I am acutely aware that I must not break any or drop any. It, of course, makes it so much more dangerous, me having this knowledge. I place them carefully on the floor (outside the area marked, of course) or on top of each other.

The pictures are laid out on the floor. They are changed. There are too many of them. The top right corner doesn’t look right – too many small ones. The order is changed. And changed. And changed again, and on.

Eventually, they are right, it seems. It seemed that way to me before now but now, after the final few changes, it seems right. The wall (for it is not all of it) is measured and masking tape used to mark the point where the pictures will start.

I bring the first one in. The picture is positioned and the nail point secured. The nail is hammered in and the picture hung. It is the first of very many. They are all photographs of the same woman. I go and fetch the next one (in order, as they will be positioned on the wall at the top) – the first row first – as they are positioned on the floor.

Nails are taken out sometimes as they won’t go all the way in. Or, rather, enough of the way in to allow the picture to hang correctly. Everything is, almost, very precise. Each picture is hung, not in a moment, but in a minute or two, placed, centred on the nail, hanging perfectly. Row after row.

It takes some time.

Then we are to unveil the sofa and move it back against the wall – the wall where the pictures are.

Ah, but wait!

‘I don’t want you think I’m a maniac’, he says, ‘but I want to clean the pictures first’.

‘Of course I think you’re a maniac, but a lovely maniac’, I reply, smiling.

The pictures are cleaned. The covers are taken off the sofa. It is in two pieces and they are slotted together. We do this and push it back against the wall. It is perfect. Of course it is perfect. It’s F’s flat.

I think that, tomorrow night it will be three whole months since we first met. It seems it cannot be true. Surely, it is longer than that?

I told him I loved him last night, when we had got to bed. He answered that he knew I did. I was pleased as it means he can see it even by the things I do.

And I do. So much and, when I’m with him, I am not scared. And, as he was on the ladder, banging another nail in the wall and his shirt rode up and I caught a glimpse of his stomach and looked at him, I also thought that he is a really sexy guy. It’s perfect. Well, not perfect but perfect all the same. And he loves me too and, sometimes, I feel I must be the luckiest person ever!

Sometimes, I get scared

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Irrational feelings, these, I know.

Just like going to by fresh prosciutto (I might not be understood and look a fool in front of the busy queue), going to a hospital (they might spot something is wrong with me and I might never leave), going to a garage to have the car fixed (they spot me as a fool and stitch me up), etc.

These are, indeed, irrational feelings and, although I know them to be so, it doesn’t stop the feelings and, sometimes, I feel like a deer caught in car headlights – doing nothing would seem to be the correct answer, which, of course, it is not.

And the same is true for the current situation.  What if we have nothing in common after all?  I mean to say, right now, there is the move, Farmville and so on to keep us ‘occupied’ when we are together.  OK, so we both like the cinema and films but you can’t be doing that all the time.  He has books but I would say that they’re more ‘coffee table’ books than real books.  He loves music whereas I just like it.  What shall we talk about?  What will we do?

And, right now, we don’t spend all day together.  We do different things because we live in different flats and so, for a number of hours during the day we are in our own flat (in his case the new one or the old one) doing things or, in my case, sometimes, doing nothing of any importance.

But what if we HAD to spend all day together?  In the same place, in a constricted place.  In a flat with only a couple of rooms.

Let’s face it, I am lazy.  I will happily lounge around all day (and then be completely unhappy that I have wasted the time).  From a list of things to do, I may do one or two.

I’ll do that right after this cup of tea, I say to myself.  But, then, I think, I’ll just have another cup of tea and then do that.  And then I run out of time and so, from the list, if I’m lucky, I will have done up to two, no more.

How will that ‘fit’ with F who seems to be busy doing things all the time (mainly cleaning and stuff which a) I hate and b) I’m not good at)?

Maybe, I’ve been thinking, it would be right to do as he says, i.e. NOT move in together.  But how do I reconcile that with the thing that, to be a ‘complete’ relationship, we should be living together?  Am I saying this just because I’m frightened of what he may see and what he may not like?

Right now, of course, being with him is enough – even if we don’t talk or do anything in particular.  But later………

And so, sometimes, I get scared.