The new “new” new

Written some time ago but I never published it – I don’t know why.

During lunch I came to a sudden “understanding”.

You see, F has been talking about doing up the house down in Carrara and how, once it’s done, “we’ll go to Ikea and Mondo Convenienza to buy new furniture”.

Then again, about moving house here, in Milan, “I have to accept your furniture”.

And I suddenly realised, when a colleague was aghast at another colleague for not having “changed” their furniture that, in the process of becoming “good” consumers in this throw-away society, we have this thing about buying new things even when existing does equally well (or, in the case of old/antique furniture) even better!

I began to think about F and his “need” to fill a newly built/decorated/moved into place with all brand spanking new things!

And I realised that, in all probability, I have become one of those “old people” that I always warned myself about.

Oh shit!

I just want to scream!

I love Italy. I love Italians.

In general, that is.

Well, apart from some annoying things.

And there’s one, perfectly captured by something that happened last night.

But first, a bit of background.

Before Christmas, my friend A broke his ankle. He sort of fell over and sat on it, more or less. Anyway, it was a bad thing and broke several bones. he was rushed to hospital and had to have an operation to have pins put in and stuff. He came home but, obviously, still cannot really walk far, nor stand on his foot properly.

So, instead of him popping over to me and us going to a bar or restaurant, I have been popping over to see him from time to time.

Now, I’m pretty sure I’ve mentioned this before but going to his house is rather strange. His flat is on the 7th floor. You ring the bell at the entrance to the building and then take the one and only lift to floor 7.

On that floor, there are three flats.

With two exceptions (in fact, the previous two occasions I went to his place), having answered the bell at the entrance and confirming that it is, indeed, I here, at the appointed time, it takes probably about 5 minutes to call the lift and get to the 7th floor. Then, when you step out of the lift and walk the couple of paces to his door, you will, almost certainly have to ring the bell.

After some moments (or minutes), you will hear the sound of bolts being drawn and locks being unlocked. It’s as if it is a surprise that I’m going to be there!

The last two occasions only, the door was already unlocked when I arrived at the 7th floor.

Last night we were back to normal.

I knocked on the door, muttering to myself about how he’s always the effing same and who the hell does he think will get to the 7th floor other than me in the allotted time!

As he opened the door he explained that I had to be patient because he was hobbling about on crutches.

To be honest, this time, I was a bit gobsmacked. He is telling me this whilst holding the door open with one hand, the other hand on the crutches and his head a few inches away from the entry phone through which he had spoken to me and released the main door not 5 minutes before!

I asked, “but why didn’t you unlock the door when you let me in downstairs?”

It seemed a reasonable question to me but he was confused. I repeated it in a different way. He still didn’t get it. I tried to explain it again, differently.

Eventually, he got it.

“I don’t know. I never thought about it,” he said.

And THAT, ladies and gentlemen, concludes my argument for the prosecution!

The problem is that, in almost all instances of Italians doing anything (and, obviously, that blanket statement doesn’t always apply and not to ALL Italians), there is no thinking ahead; no logic; no forward planning. This applies to walking along the streets, driving in cars and, it seems, unlocking doors, etc., etc. These people are just too fucking F R E A K Y!

So, I’ve concluded that, since this can’t possibly be only nurture, it must be in their genes.

A couldn’t understand what I was trying to question (i.e. why didn’t you unlock the door at the same time as you were there letting me in downstairs as it would mean only one journey on crutches and not two) because it’s not possible for him to understand it. It’s simply not possible because his brain is different to mine and there is some missing computer-style logic code in his brain. In the same way that a bunch of people can be chatting together, taking up the whole pavement, see me and the dogs coming some yards away and then be totally shocked and surprised when we are upon them trying to find a path through. And they look as if it’s MY fault!

Or when you’re driving and get stuck in a queue because no one has thought to leave a space to let someone turn across the path of the stuck traffic and the cars lining up behind the car trying to turn are, in turn, blocking the path of the cars that are blocking the path of the car wanting to turn! If you see what I mean?

Sometimes, it makes me laugh. Other times, I want to take the logic and forward planning, transform it into a large hammer and beat it into their brains until they get it.

It’s like the two bits (cause and effect) just don’t connect and the obvious future event remains unseen.

And, sometimes, it just makes me want to S C R E A M!

From Top Of The Pops to Nursery School – timetravelling backwards

I’m what you may call a “quiet” guy.

Those of you who’ve read my blog long enough will know that, although on the surface I seem quite well-adjusted, sensible and, well, just plain ordinary, I am, underneath it all (or, rather, in my mind), quite seriously screwed most of the time.

I have conflicts and dilemmas most of my waking hours. I find it really difficult to be “close” to people.

I have friends, of course. Well, I should say, people that I quite like and that I speak to quite often. But, what I consider “real” friends – no, not many.

And a recent post from one of my links got me to thinking about relationships with people and friends, in general. More specifically, it took me back to when I was younger (much, much younger.)

When I was 12 or 13 or maybe even before that, my Nan bought me my first record (single). The reason was that one of the members of the group came from where she lived and, this being rural Herefordshire, not famous for it’s proliferation of famous rock stars, was a very big deal. From my Nan and Grandad, I learnt about Top of the Pops – because they used to watch it every week.

Apart from this making them very cool (although we didn’t use that word then – maybe “hip” or something), they got me interested in music and the radio and Top of the Pops. So, then, I used to watch it every week. And I got a radio for Christmas or my birthday which enabled me to listen to Radio Luxembourg under the bedsheets at night.

The thing about this was the charts. All these programs worked on charts. And charts I liked. I was, for some reason, fascinated with charts and the moving up and down of songs based on their popularity and sales. And I wanted my own “charts”.

Obviously, I was young and didn’t have any buying power so I came up with the idea of a chart for friends. To make it real, they were “marked” to different criteria (which I don’t remember now but possibly something like – how nice they had been to me this week, had they shared any sweets with me, did I share any sweets with them, etc.). Each would be given a mark (quite possibly out of 10). The marks would be added up and, from that, the week’s chart compiled. This would mean that I would know who was my “best friend”.

I really don’t remember how long I did this for. I had a little exercise book and dutifully recorded the “chart” every week, watching how people moved up and down. It made me feel better if someone had been horrible to me and they dropped sharply down the chart and better too if someone who had been “middling” shot up to number one because of something nice.

Obviously, reading this now, I was set to be on a psychiatrist’s couch as soon as I was old enough :-)

But, then again, I was at school. And children are quite horrible. Friendships are made and broken on a whim. “I won’t let you play with my toys. I’m not your friend anymore. I’m going to tell my Mum.” These are all the things we say and hear. We’re learning about the value of people, how to trust them, how to read them.

So, let’s bring that up to date. Today we have a new Nursery School. But this one is for adults, it seems. In broad terms it’s called social media. In the olden days, we became friends with people that we met, face-to-face, people that were physically in our own circle.

Then, with the invention of the telephone, we could become friends with people that we spoke to a lot.

In fact, I remember, as a buyer, many moons ago, I became “friends” with a guy who was employed at one of our suppliers. We used to chat a lot and, when I left that company, we arranged to meet up. Of course, we never spoke after that. Not because he was a horrible person in real life but because I think we were a bit disappointed that the guy on the phone was not really like that in real life.

Social Media is another revolution. We can become friends with people so easily. Maybe we like their photo or the things they write or the pictures they post.

On Twitter, a while back, I would follow anyone who followed me. So it was that one person followed me and I followed her back. The problem was that, in real life, given the nature of her tweets, I wouldn’t have ever spoken to her after our first meeting. She was (is), in a word, vile. Nasty, small-minded, arrogant and always making out that she was cleverer than everyone else. I decided that Twitter was the ideal platform for her and that, in all probability, she had been the most hated person at Nursery School – she had (has?) no social skills. Zero. Nada.

How grateful was I when I discovered that she had “unfollowed” me – permitting me to unfollow her! She still appears on my timeline from time to time (being retweeted by others on my timeline) and, occasionally, I visit her profile to see if she’s changed. Needless to say, she hasn’t.

There’s a guy that I follow that reported on the Grillo-Renzi meeting, for example. Now, I’ve been following him because he tweets some interesting stuff about Italian politics and the economy. When I read what he wrote about the meeting however, I realised that he was also quite stupid. But, then again, he’s not my “friend” (I don’t even know if he follows me and, to be honest, care less) and, after the tweet about the meeting, is surely never to be.

Facebook too – I have friends on there that are my friends because we used to (or I used to) play games through Facebook. Now that I don’t, I do wonder why the hell I don’t just purge them. I have other “friends” on there that I’ve never met who have become “friends” via other means (they might be friends of friends that I have at Hay Festival, for example.) Again, I sometimes query why they are there, taking up space on my timeline. But I don’t want to be the first to cut them off! Stupid, eh? But, although they aren’t really my friends, I don’t want them to feel hurt – unless they really piss me off, of course. Then there are “friends” who I’ve never met and know little about but who I have some sort of interaction with. I can class them as “real” friends in that we do interact, of course. Whether they would be real friends in real life is another matter – and I simply don’t know the answer to that – I’ve never met them and don’t know enough about them.

Of course, when V “defriended” me on Facebook a few years ago I was both surprised and a bit disappointed. But not so as you’d know. After all, we’d split up in real life and, to be honest, he was right in one way. Still, it’s a shame.

But I really can’t lose sleep over someone who defriends me nor unfollows me. it’s up to them. They have their reasons. I have a real-life friend who I follow who doesn’t follow me on Twitter. Should I get upset or be offended?

Well, no, I don’t think so. Firstly, it’s not like my tweets are so fantastic. Secondly, whether she follows me on Twitter or not doesn’t actually change the way I feel about her and doesn’t make her a horrible person. In fact, she is one of the sweetest, kindest people I have ever met in my life – and whether she follows me or no doesn’t change that.

The thing I DO know is that a “friend” on Facebook or Twitter is not really a “friend” but more of an acquaintance – like someone you know at work. I really can’t take it all too seriously.

But, people do. People get upset and rant and rave. People follow me on Twitter and then unfollow me if I don’t follow back. Well, like Facebook friends, it isn’t the quantity but the quality that counts in my book. If people have interesting timelines/profiles, I follow them. If not, well, I don’t. It’s really as simple as that.

But it is a little like a Nursery School – or it can be. People take offence at something someone says and it blows up out of all proportion. Someone defriends or unfollows someone else and that someone else feels hurt and “excluded”.

But, it’s not real. It’s over the Internet. A true “friend” relationship takes time to develop – over months and years with ups and downs along the way. Physically being in front of someone smooths those ups and downs as you can see, sometimes, the real person. On the Internet, all you have are words and words don’t show feelings and, worse, can be downright lies.

We’ve a long way to go before we are out of the Nursery School that is Social Media. We have (and it has) a lot of growing up to do – made worse by the fact that in this Nursery School, most people are adult and so have already “grown up” and have their fixed ideas on what is right and what is wrong.

So, perhaps, we’ll never grow up!

Just like Christmas?

I arrived home on Friday evening, having picked F up from the airport, to find a stack of goodies that had come in the post.

First there was an eBook reader that I had bought at a discount. This is to stop what happened during the summer where I was left for almost a week without a book. In future, I shall have books wherever I am (in theory). It’s taken me most of the weekend to set it up but now I have one book already on and I shall look for more in the coming weeks.

There were also a number of (real) books that I had ordered. Having finished Bring Up The Bodies by Hilary Mantel, I am now ready for the next one which is a choice between:
The Tenth Chamber – Glenn Cooper, the third in the series;
The Weekend – Peter Cameron, who I saw this year at the Mantova Festivaletteratura;
The Haunting Of Hill House – Shirley Jackson;
Maddaddam – Margaret Atwood, the third in the series.

I also received a calendar for next year. This, you might think, is not so special except that the first photograph (for January) was taken by Best Mate’s eldest daughter, so rather special.

The weather is quite crap now. It’s much cooler and we had a lot of rain overnight although, in spite of the forecast, it hasn’t been raining all day.

All made up for by the fact that Friday night almost seemed like Christmas :-)

…. and almost the day I go back ….

….. I finally get the phone I wanted and so have some semblance of access to the internet.

I’m still getting used to it so no real post until I get back but at least I have internet access and Facebook and Twitter.

Two days from now, I shall be on my way back to Milan and, once again, I’m not madly looking forward to it even if I love the city and my flat. Still, we should have at least one more weekend here, depending on the weather.

See you in a couple of days.

Thank the lord ………….

……………… that it’s over now.

We have a name and, overnight, the newspapers have dropped the coverage to some way down the page (online).

It was driving me crazy.

Woman might have baby soon. Woman starts labour. Woman has baby. Parents leave hospital. Name given to child. Back to normality.

But it all took days. Even my colleague (the one I share coffee with in the morning) kept asking me about it until I turned the tables and kept asking her. Not that I was terribly interested, just to get her to stop bloody asking me – like I had some sort of direct line to Kate!

Anyway, as you were.

Half full

It’s only half.

But why? I mean to say, a half is almost the same size as a full, since to get the half, the cup is filled slightly higher and, therefore a half of that is just a fraction shorter than a normal short.

So, I see no difference really between a half or a whole.

The benefit is that I get free coffee – a short coffee, certainly, but a coffee nonetheless.

My colleague takes a coffee with me in the morning at about 8.45 and then gives me half a coffee at about 10.20.

Occasionally, very occasionally, she takes a half coffee in the afternoon.

We’re taking a centimetre of difference here.

But someone else has also started giving me half his coffee. But I find this one a bit strange. I almost feel like he’s trying to bribe me. You see, I really don’t like him and he knows this, for sure. To me he is the most ineffectual, overpaid, useless moron. He has, in the past, said things that are simply not true and done things that really show how useless he is.

And, yet, suddenly, here he is on an almost daily basis, giving me half a coffee.

Obviously, instead of ignoring him, I have to say “hello” and “thank you”. I’m not THAT rude. But, still, it really does grate on me. And it does feel like a kind of bribe, as if he’s trying to get me to “like” him, and not even in a Facebook kind of way!

However, since I think this whole “half” coffee thing (if you see what I mean) is weird, coffee is coffee and free is free. So I will just have to put with the “hello” and “thank you” that goes with it. Although the fact that he is a quite useless bastard will, quite obviously, not change.

A Free eBook and my very first purchase of another eBook. I am moving into this century … albeit, slowly!

WARNING – This post is wrong – see update below!

This morning I downloaded 2 ebooks from Smashwords.

This is, in my opinion, an incredible site.

The first book is Given Away, A Sicilian Upbringing, by Marianna Randazzo.

Not having read it, I can’t tell you if it’s good or not. But, for a short time, using the code SW100, you can get it for free! And, with Smashwords, you can download it in so many formats that you don’t have to have a Kindle to read it. In fact, I have downloaded it as an rtf file, meaning a Word Document (in effect) and it’s an experiment as with this file, I can read it on my phone – so I can read it on the beach :-)

A second book that I have actually paid money for ($4.50) is The Final Straw, by Ted Taylor.

I haven’t read this one either BUT – Ted Taylor is the guy who wrote The Death Guide To Life – which he put up on the internet and which is in my eBooks section on the right. I really liked it and liked his style so I didn’t mind paying something for this.

Again, I’ve downloaded it in rtf format with the idea of reading it on the beach.

Now, of course, on my phone it will be quite small and, if that becomes a problem, I have two options. 1 – wait until I am at home and read it on my computer OR, 2 – buy some sort of reader or tablet and read it that way.

I have a feeling that, as I really need to replace my phone very soon, I might find myself getting a tablet …… finally :-) Maybe, I can get some sort of special deal if I do the two things together.

We shall see.

Anyway, even if you don’t have a reader, do purchase the free book I’ve mentioned above. After all, it’s free (with the code) and so you’ve lost nothing, have you?

UPDATE. Mr Ted Tayler (the guy who wrote The Final Straw) has pointed out that he IS NOT the author of The Death Guide To Life – which is completely down to me not paying attention and having erroneously “come to the conclusion they are the same person” some time ago – I didn’t check it before I wrote this. However, the book I bought seemed interesting anyway. I hope it is!

Ah well, we all make mistakes.

Why isn’t there a LOT of shouting about it?

We’re bored with the Snowden thing now, aren’t we? I mean the chase has, kind of, stalled. So nothing to see here – let’s all move along.

Except, of course, it really shouldn’t be like this. From what I understand, the UK Government has issued a Section D (I might have this wrong) notice to the British Media – effectively stifling what they can report about it.

Hence, it’s no longer really headlines. Of course, the headlines SHOULD be asking difficult questions of the Government. Asking how come GCHQ (and NSA) are collecting all our data. Asking them when it’s going to stop, etc.

But, don’t worry at all. After all they’re not collecting ALL data. Only the metadata which, by all accounts, doesn’t actually tell you anything much.

Except that’s not even true.

If you have a Gmail account, you can, actually try it (partially) for yourself using Immersion.

And you should. See how your connections are made. Who you email most – how they connect. Of course, you’ve nothing to hide, have you? So it’s not really important, is it?

Well, no, of course not.

But, follow the logic and think about the fact that they’re not just collecting the metadata from Gmail but from all your email accounts (people often have more than one – e.g. a work and a private account).

But that’s OK because if you have something to hide you will just use the telephone.

But, they collect the metadata for that too!

And for the web browsing history you do.

And anything else you do on-line.

It’s a much fuller picture they have of you now, isn’t it?

Are you comfortable with that, ‘cos I’m not?

To see how someone has analysed the Immersion program, go to this rather good piece, here.

Also see the original article, from where all this came, in the Guardian.

But, of course, this is all being done by the “good guys”, isn’t it?

Well, watch the following video:

And now tell me that you’re not just a little scared?

Becoming a hermit has never seemed such a great idea until now, eh?

I wonder when (or even if) Governments will be hounded to do something about it?

Smoke and Mirrors. Are you sure The Matrix isn’t true?

If you’re following the Edward Snowden story then you’re seeing something that’s almost exciting as a film – but without the pictures – unless you count the one of aircraft on the ground, empty aircraft seats and people standing around at airports.

Except,of course, that shouldn’t be the “story” that everyone is following at all. Since the current whereabouts of the man who told us all about what secret government agencies REALLY do is unknown (currently, on Twitter, he is said to be in Iceland, in Russia, in Hong Kong, in Ecuador and, in one extreme case, not actually to have ever been in Hong Kong at all!) and whereas the story of his flight and the reactions of the US government and the Russians, etc. is great fun, it shouldn’t really be what all the respectable journalists are covering.

Instead, surely, the focus should be on the enormous amount of data that GCHQ and the NSA have been (and almost certainly, still are) collecting on innocent people.

Being in Italy I can assure you that many of the ways that the Fascists collected and reviewed data on the common person are still in place, even if a little more relaxed now (I’m sure if I’m wrong on this, I will be corrected). The Fascists wanted to know everything about everybody because knowledge is power and, more importantly, the power to control (the masses).

WWII was all about defeating Fascists and the Fascist idea.

It seems that the whole thing was a waste of time because what we have now is the collecting of all this data and the controlling of the people.

And, yet, the main focus is on one man. Not even a very powerful man (since he’s given away the secrets).

Instead of very hard questions being asked of Obama and Cameron – the very hard questions are being asked of a man who is somewhere that only a few know. All the while, the destruction of his credibility goes unchecked and unquestioned.

To be honest, it’s not really important WHY he went to work for a particular company nor HOW he was able to take the information nor, even, WHERE he is.

What IS important is the WHAT he has exposed.

I would like for it to be stopped, this collecting of data. I would like the real freedom that was promised by the fighters of WWII. I don’t vote any more (because what’s the point) – but I say now that should anyone come up with a plan for ridding us of these Fascist principles of governing, I would go back out there and vote.