It’s not all great, you know?

I don’t want you to get the wrong idea. The last few posts have been quite upbeat. The reality, though, in my head, is quite different.

I am, to be frank, scared shitless. I move on Wednesday. The movers are booked. The gas and Electric and Telephone have all been sorted (although we are in Italy so it doesn’t actually mean that it will all happen without any hitches). But none of this matters.

V has been extraordinarily nice recently. And yet, as I write, he has nowhere to move to and has made no alternative plans. And, in spite of the niceness, I am pretty sure the lies continue. I’m not sure he will actually really believe this is happening until I move out. It should have been him moving first.

I am waiting for something – but I have no idea what. Something that he is going to say or do, at the last moment. Now, with everything arranged, it does not and cannot change anything. And, perhaps, that is what scares me so much. There is a finality to it all.

I remain polite and try to be friendly. I succeed most of the time. The Final Question was asked and agreed to but it became harder to achieve – but not because I didn’t try. However, it almost seem irrelevant now.

This weekend will be packing, for certain. There are many things where it has not been decided who has what. This must be resolved – and this weekend.

I am also very sad. It hit me, again, whilst I was away. For the first time since I can remember, I had no one to phone/text. Little things, I know but, overriding all that was that no one was waiting for me to come home. It will only be the dogs that keep me sane.

I am very excited.

I am. I am almost unable to control myself with excitement. OK, maybe that’s just a little over the top.

The point is that I quite like the look of my blog. I adapted a theme, I like the colours, etc. [This was the old theme – not the current one you are looking at.]

I have upgraded WordPress (although not to the latest version) and it’s running OK. The big problem is that the theme (the way it looks) does not permit all the fabulous features of the newer versions. So, some things I see on others blogs but cannot have because I cannot have widgets.

To be honest, one day I will get around to modifying the theme to allow for widgets but, until that day happens, I have to look at others’ widgets and gasp in awe and amazement at how simply super they look.

And then there’s tags. I’m not sure when they came on the scene and they sort of passed me by for some time. Then I found a plugin (an addition in WordPress) and found that I could just place it into the page code rather than only have it as a widget! Whoa, yeah!

So now, on the side, a bit further down I have, what’s known as, a TAG CLOUD! Not only is it a tag cloud but it REVOLVES!!!!

Oh, happy day!

[p.s. now I DON’T have it :-D]

Make-your-own Chicken and Mushroom Pie – don’t look at the contents and it really IS very tasty.

Make your own Chicken and Mushroom Pie

Whilst away, on business, we were taken to the client’s canteen for lunch. Canteens are canteens – never the best food in the world but this one, whilst nowhere near as good as ours is OK, although the food can be a bit odd sometimes.

We walk in and the main course is, what can only be described as, the results of someone having been very very, very ill.  Globby, congealed, pale and, to be frank, quite sickening to look at.

Our hosts showed us how it was done. Next to the grey/light-brown ‘mess’ were some ‘fancy’ pastry cases. You took one or two of these and filled each with the sickening gloop which, I was told was chicken.

But, then I tasted it. I realised it had been some time since I had eaten Chicken and Mushroom Pie where the pie crust was make from flaky pastry. It used to be quite a favourite of mine although we never saw it served like this, of course.

But, to be honest, providing you didn’t really look at what you were eating, it was really nice. Served with peas, which was always the perfect accompaniment!

And then I realised that ‘pies’ of any sort don’t seem to be that common here, it Italy. I mean things like Steak Pie, Steak and Kidney Pie, Chicken Pies, in fact, most pies really don’t exist. Strange, isn’t it?

My own private jet….and airport…..and security……. aka the joys of travelling these days.

My_own_private_jet_and_airport_and_security_aka_the_joys_of_travelling_these_days

I remember, 10 or 15 years ago, travelling, for me, was still exciting and pleasurable. There was the thrill of the flight as I really love flying; the fun of having an expense account and being able to eat and drink, more or less, as I wanted; the prestige of being one of those ‘business travellers’ that you see or hear about.

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The weekend and other things

The_weekend_and_other_things

This weekend was spent, mostly, working. My other job that is. To be honest the whole thing should have taken about 2 hours. It took most of Saturday because my websites’ hosters had to do things – but, obviously, only after I’d tried to fix it myself!

And still I can’t make it do what the customer really wants but on this one, other than a fiddly work-around, which really isn’t practical, it looks like there is no way to do it. Damn.

And then there were the accounts to do as Year End has just finished. I found that, in spite of thinking I had been keeping it pretty much up-to-date, I hadn’t. So it took me a little while. Damn again.

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When a town is not a town

It was last weekend when I went. It has the word ‘town’ in its name so, I thought, it must actually be a town. Seems reasonable to me. Being an ‘outlet’ town, I was expecting something similar to Bicester Village, Vicolungo or Serravalle.

I don’t really like them, as you may remember but this was one of the first in this area and is in Switzerland and, travelling by road, to and from the UK, I have passed it many times.

In fact, it’s only just past Como, so immediately, one thinks of beauty with the backdrop of the Alps.

And, as it was so famous, I did want to see it. It’s less than an hour from Milan and easy to get to (Motorway all the way unless you don’t want to pay the annual motorway fee in Switzerland.

Apart from the fact that it rained all day; we weren’t high enough to see snow-capped mountains; and the place itself – it was wonderful.

So, why didn’t I like it? Well, it’s not a town. It’s called Fox Town but, really, it’s a shopping centre (or mall, to you Americans). And a very ugly one at that. Everything seems Italian (the language, the people) except the currency which is Swiss Francs. The prices are not so cheap for the fact that it’s stuff that’s already out of fashion – certainly no cheaper than Vicolungo or Serravalle, although on the plus side, the guy assistant in Iceberg was rather cute.

Overall, much more of a disappointment than I thought would be possible. And then, back in Milan and my umbrella was ‘borrowed’.

To be honest, if it’s a nice day, I would prefer one of the other outlet centres, should you be visiting here and insist on doing outlet shopping.

A change in the air?

change_in_the_air?

I can’t tell you of a phrase that V has often used to describe how he finds talking to people so easy (and I don’t). I mean, I could tell you but, really, I won’t. Even now, I cannot betray him.

That’s what comes of 20 odd years together. I know far, far too much.

However, there seemed, what with the retreat and so-forth, to be a change in the air. For a moment, I was caught up in it and started to believe it. Of course, I am reluctant to move too far forward or too fast and I’m glad I didn’t for it is not true.

Well, it may be true to some extent, but nowhere near true enough for me.

He was saying last year that we were going to get married this year. I always kept quiet at this point, not wanting to burst his bubble in front of others. I keep quiet when he talks about the retreat. I’m not such a bastard but I do want to shout out that it’s all lies, lies, damned lies.

He was an actor (before I met him) and I think he must have been quite good.

Rude? Embarrassing? Both?

There have been some great, well-respected leaders in the world.  Clinton, whatever the Americans thought of him and, in spite of his infamous non-sex episode, was well respected.  Bush, unfortunately, was seen as a bit of an ass.  I can’t speak for British leaders as I am British and, therefore, have a biased view, although, from what I can tell and from conversations I have had here, Margaret Thatcher was also well-respected (in spite of the damage she did to the country).

When we are in meetings, it is quite common for the meeting to be interrupted by a phone call to someone, whether it be personal or work, people here answer it as if, whatever they are doing, is completely unimportant and the phone call is a matter of life and death.

If you visit someone at their desk and a call comes to their desk phone, even in the middle of their conversation with you, the phone call will take precedence.

At first, it was frustrating but now, I guess I am used to it.  It is, therefore, no surprise to pick this up from the BBC site.

And, whereas it is no surprise, I cannot believe that an Italian, at the highest level can be so bloody rude.  It doesn’t matter what the call was about.  It would have been easy, as the car stopped, to say he would call back in five minutes and, once inside, out of the glare of the cameras, he could have continued the conversation.  The only good reason for continuing it and keeping Merkel waiting was if his wife was about to give birth or someone was dying.

And for me, if a British leader did that I would be embarrassed for Britons and my country as a whole.

And the whole incident comes almost straight after acting like a hooligan at a football match, shouting Obama’s name at a reception held by the Queen.

Hmm.  I thank goodness I am not Italian for I would certainly, after the phone call thing, be hanging my head in shame.  I don’t care who you are, you don’t keep a head of state waiting and, certainly, head of state or not, a lady.