A Night Out with Best Mate

A_Night_Out_with_Best_Mate

Best Mate and I went out the other night. Well, it was the same thing but we actually stayed at home. In our own homes. And used Skype with videocam. I drank wine and she drank beer and we chatted and laughed and so on as you do when you’re out for a night on the town. Except we were in our respective bedrooms.

It ended up being for about 3 and a half hours. We had to have a break at one point so she could stock up on beer.

It was necessary. It was good. We talked about everything that’s going on right now, both in her life and mine. I was explaining why I am crazy and what the symptoms and causes were. She understood. She chided me where it was necessary and comforted me also.

It was a good night out with Best Mate…….

……who is looking and feeling much better and that makes me very happy. She will be over again in a few weeks and I am really looking forward to that.

Everything is black or white here (or, rather, left or right)

Everything_is_black_or_white_here_or_rather_left_or_right

We were sitting, having a coffee after lunch. Not a truly memorable lunch in terms of food but not horrible, just not memorable (even if I can remember it). At least the food itself. The rest of it was as memorable as things get for my memory, or, maybe more so, since I am remembering this.

He selected to have brown sugar and I selected white.

He explained that, here, in this passionate land, everything has a political side, even sugar. Selecting white meant you were right-wing and brown, left-wing. I immediately felt quite guilty with selecting white, not because I am left-wing or right-wing, since I am probably neither but because he might have seen it as being one side or the other and, at this stage in the conversation, I didn’t want these preconceptions clouding anything. He said that he takes no notice of these things but you never know and I didn’t want him to judge me. For me it is a practical choice – I select it, in general, because it dissolves better, especially in Italian coffee which is not boiling as it would be in the UK.

Anyway, it was stupid to feel guilty but there you go.

I mentioned that my colleague at work (who so kindly brought back some Boursault (although the goat variety, so I’m not sure if that will be as good) from her holiday at her house (flat) in the South of France) had told me that there was a perfume that was associated here, in Italy, with the left or right but I could not remember.

I said I would ask her when she came back.

I recalled our conversation. I asked her. Yes, it is true, she said. She could not, immediately remember the correct spelling and I could not find it on-line. Eventually I found it. It is called patchouli oil.

She didn’t believe the ‘sugar’ thing, when I had explained. She went on to say that she hates the smell of patchouli oil – but that is because she is right-wing, I’m almost certain.

For me I hate both strong right-wing and strong left-wing because neither of them allow any middle ground and not everything is black or white but, rather, shades of grey.

And that is true for everything.

I did add, to my colleague that ‘you Italians seem very strange, sometimes’.  I’m sure I am strange to them so we’re all equal on that score.