Monthly Archives: November 2009

Sometimes, I find Italy a little frustrating.

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Of course, I should have known better, really.  There are the three rules:-

1.  Siamo in Italia
2.  Customer Service.  Sorry, what was that again?
3.  Siamo in Italia ancora.

My phone was ‘broken’.  I really believe that they set a ‘useful’ life, at which point, the phone stops working, making it imperative that you buy a new one.  The reason for this?  I had a phone. Nearly 4 years old.  Suddenly, it stops making any sound or giving any screen display to show that a new message has been received or a call missed.

It’s just my phone, I thought.  Someone with the same model lent me theirs as they have no use for it any more.  It does the same.  And yet, if the sim is put into a newer model, it works fine.  Hmmm.

So, the choice was to go and get a new phone or change provider.  Since transferring to a new provider gives you a much better rate and a cheaper phone (special deals for new customers), it seemed the wisest thing to change provider.

First there was Wind (part of Infostrada).  I didn’t want it to go on my credit card (you don’t have the consumer protection thing here like you do in the UK – if a mistake is made you have to prove that it’s not your mistake an, in the meantime, the money is taken from your bank anyway), so asked to set up the equivalent of a Direct Debit.  We spent a few hours in the shop, taking copies of my passport, noting my Codice Fiscale (similar to a National Insurance number and absolutely necessary here if you want to do almost anything), etc.  Then came the fun part of typing it into the computer.  After a number of tries they said I must have either the actual card for the Codice Fiscale or the Health Card, neither of which I have.  So that was that.

Then I tried TIM.  TIM were great.  The situation would be sorted in about 2 weeks and when the number stopped working with 3 I was to go back to the shop, pay a small amount and get my new Blackberry.

After two weeks had passed I went to the shop.  Apparently there was no problem but it would be another week.

Another 2 weeks passed.  This morning I found that my 3 (spit spit) sim didn’t work anymore.  Great, in that the transfer was made.  Bad in that the new sim from TIM didn’t work in my (crap anyway) 3 phone as it is locked to 3.  Never mind.  This would all be fixed this evening when I went to the TIM shop and got my brand, spanking-new Blackberry.

Luckily, I borrowed an old phone to try out my sim – it’s working fine – but it’s not my phone.

As I sit here now at the computer I look at the phone a colleague lent me, very grateful that he did.  I drove from work, rushed straight to the TIM shop.  They were very helpful.  They found the Blackberry and proceeded to fill in forms; enter stuff on the computer and, as is normal here, generally take half an hour to do something that should, in reality, take about 10 minutes.

However, the problem, it seems, is that although TIM have moved the number, it takes 24 hours for the contract to appear on the computer system.  And the other problem is that the ‘special offer’ that applies to my contract has ended.  The brand-spanking-new Blackberry is sitting in the box but I’m not allowed to have it.

‘Can you come back tomorrow?’ she asks.

There was no solution – and, trust me, I tried everything I possibly could.

Tomorrow, I must go again.  That, plus get my suit altered, take the test, do Nan’s Trifle to take with us tomorrow night to R&Al’s, etc. etc.

Sometimes, I find Italy a little frustrating.

The Moment will last

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The 3 words were spoken and it took me a moment to register them.

I was surprised and delighted.  It was unexpected.  It was almost in passing, hence the fact that it took me a second or two.  I said that it was the first time but, apparently not.  He insisted that he had already said them a couple of weeks ago.  I don’t remember and I thought I would have remembered.  Maybe I was asleep?

It doesn’t matter anyhow.  They’ve been said now.  It means he feels comfortable with the ‘us’ that is.

This evening he returns to Milan.  I want to be with him.  I want to hold him and smother him in kisses.  The ‘missing’ of him becomes greater, not lessened by availability nor by the act of living and the mundane.  Obviously, this won’t continue for ever, I know, but I will enjoy it (and suffer it) whilst it lasts and be grateful for it and counting my blessings and realising that I am, as always, it seems, an extremely fortunate (or lucky) person for whom life has a way of working things out.

And it makes me think of the first meeting; how I was convinced that nothing would happen but that he was, in fact, the person from the chat, exactly, and that all the time I was searching and looking and going out with others, he was in my mind as ‘THE GUY’, even if I thought he was unobtainable.

And I think that life is full of strange twists and turns and surprises and, yet, is it true?  Has everything been leading to this moment, the ‘moment’ that occurred and was so fleeting but makes me happy and content and relaxed and fills me with so much joy, so much love, just …….. so much.

A moment is all it was

Yet, the moment will last.

Misunderstanding or Shit-Stirring, that is the question.

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It has been simmering for ages now.  Finally, this morning, I had an email from a friend (we’ll say, F1) which was slightly strange.  Basically, it asked if it was OK to tell this friend of mine (we’ll say F2) to go f%&k themselves.  I’m not really sure why I was asked but I said that F1 should do as they wished.

Within an hour or so F2 was in chat with me and said that they had spoken to F1 who asked about whether F2 had read my blog.  F2 asked why and what did it say.  I said it said nothing that I could remember (which is true since I forget a lot of what I have written).  F2 asked if I had mentioned F and I explained that I had almost every day (which Best Mate has also pointed out) for the last month and a half or so.  F2 then asked if I had ever mentioned them.  To which I replied yes and that I had talked about restaurants, eating at F2’s place, etc. etc.

Then, via Facebook, I get an email from F3.  F3 wanted to explain that they were not a miserable secretive person, in spite of what F2 may have said.  And that they had not invited F2 (nor anyone else) to their new flat because they were treating it as a haven from everyone and no one was being invited.  I replied that F3 should not worry about what F2 said and that I liked F3 (and F2) as they were.

And, so, I put up a new page on the left …… About this blog……

I have always said that I write this blog for me.  It does get very personal but, unless you actually know the people in real life (and only a handful do know each other) you could never say who individuals are much less have enough details to know them well or be able to pick out who they are from the snippets I write.

But, this sudden panicking by F1, F2 and F3 to tell me stuff or ask me stuff is slightly worrying.  I mean why?  And why now?

Of course, there is a single thing linking them.  F2!  I’m wondering if it’s some kind of shit-stirring.  I hope not as these things nearly always back-fire and would, certainly, in this case, if it continues.  Alternatively, it could be all a misunderstanding on mine or someone else’s part.

The Moment

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We were outside for a cigarette.  R asked me, again, how it was going with F.  I said it was going very well and that he makes me very happy and that my feelings for him are growing stronger and that when I’m not with him I miss him a lot.  I added that we were still going slowly because that is what F wanted.

‘But you see each other every day!’, he exclaimed.  I grinned and affirmed this and said that I didn’t push but, mostly, most nights, we were together.  Unless he was away, of course.

R said that this was what F had been looking for for the last five years and I told him that I had been looking for it too.

Then, when we were back at the table, he and Al, his partner, started to give F a bit of a hard time about how he hadn’t declared to the world that I was his boyfriend, etc.  F did the pursing of the lips, the ‘Paddington Bear’ stare and stuff but he wasn’t really annoyed.

They spoke a lot more in English.  It’s for me, I know, to make me feel included as part of their friendship with F.  They seem to want it to work out between us.  I guess I have the ‘seal of approval’, which is nice.

And, later, I could tell that their words had had some effect.  He was more loving, even, than normal.  I said that I felt very lucky to have found him.  He hugged me and kissed me harder.  I think we are a little bit closer to ‘The Moment’.  I don’t need it to be, to be honest, but it would be nice.  But I’m not looking for it.  It is better that The Moment comes when he is ready, for then I will know for certain.

He kissed me and said nothing, since nothing needed to be said.

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“You’re in love”, she said, although with the element of surprise it was, almost, a question.

I couldn’t see his face since he was sitting next to me.  Although, looking at his profile, I could almost see the look in his eyes, the pursed mouth; the withering look he gave her that said that she shouldn’t have asked it.

‘You are, I can see, you’re in love’.  OK, so this was more of a statement.

She looked over at me.  I felt it necessary to help him out; to answer for him.  Some seconds had passed.  He hadn’t denied it.  If he had wanted to deny it then it would have been immediate.  My heart jumped a little at this understated, undeclared but obvious ‘truth’.  Yes, he was in love, even if he didn’t want to admit it.

‘No, he’s not’ I replied, smiling as I did so.  He added ‘We’re taking it slowly’.  It’s a slow, slow road to the admission, that’s for sure.  But I know the truth and so did she.  And so does he.

The only nights we are apart, now, are those that are inevitable or occasionally, when we feel it necessary in order to keep up the pretence of keeping it ‘slow’.  No, maybe that’s unfair.  I do understand that it’s difficult for him.  I think he would like it to be slow but it just ain’t really happening that way.

And, afterwards, I told him that I liked the fact that he hadn’t answered straight away.  And he kissed me and said nothing, since nothing needed to be said.

Making an effort too, even if it’s really no effort.

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OK, so, if there’s one thing that we are completely different about, it’s food.  So far, it’s not been that big of a problem.  Although he will eat everything, more or less, if he’s confronted with not much of a choice.  He even had red wine on Saturday night.  I think it was his way to say ‘thank you’ for picking him up from the airport – not that it was necessary of course.  In fact, he’s always considering me with regards to the restaurants chosen.  He’s always looking for a restaurant that serves meat, even if I keep pointing out that it’s not that important.  It’s his way, I think.  Of course, this only becomes clear to me in the morning (like now) and not at the time.

Yeah, my head works better in the morning.

Also, he got milk for me at his home, so that when we had coffee, I could have some milk.  And, the fact that he comes to my house even if it means waking up so much earlier……..and he’s not good in the mornings………he’s like porcelain, you may remember?  I have a spare key so that he could leave later but he wouldn’t take it.  Perhaps tonight I can persuade him to take it?

And I do things too that I wouldn’t normally do.

Last night we slept in our own, respective flats.  For reasons of this morning (I have clients for two days and, so, probably won’t be posting much).  And I left his place later than I had intended last night.  He wanted me to stay.  I wanted to stay.  He wanted to be at my place.  I wanted him at my place.  But this is the problem when you don’t live together.  There’s time (and, yet, no time).  I was strong, even if I really did want to stay so much.  There was no way I wanted to be late to work today and I had to wear a suit and stuff.

Sunday was brunch with FfI and friends at Indiana Post, in the Navigli.  It was nice and got us out of the house.  He is good in these situations but has explained to me that it is a ‘show’ where he is an actor.  And I get it.  He seems even better than V at this stuff.

And I asked him more about his job on Saturday night.  I had been getting the impression that he was more than he let on.  And I was right.  And he takes it seriously and that is good.  And, on many things we think alike, including work, even his is a field I don’t really understand.  But, even if it is a different field, it is all the same.  There are customers and there are the producers and the same shit happens.

And, he told me again he was worried with so much stuff to do, so many things going on in his head.  And I said, again, I would help with anything I can, even if it is a little the same for me (well, certainly for work).

And tonight we go out with some friends who are from the place he lived as a kid.  Then he comes to mine.  Again, not a huge thing but enough to say that he is making an effort too even if, if he’s like me, it’s really no effort..

Waiting is both agony and ecstasy!

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In an hour from now, I shall be on my way to pick up F.  As the day has worn on, the feelings I have became more intense.  It’s one of excitement, of longing.  Just to see him but also to kiss him, to feel his body next to mine.  This is the Karl Spark, I just know it.  I think he feels the same but you can never be sure.

He’s coming in an hour earlier than he had told me, so the meal I had planned is not done.  However, we’ll see how it goes – maybe I’ll do it anyway – at his house.  Or maybe we’ll go out to his favourite Sardinian restaurant, or get a take-away pizza or something.

To be honest, I don’t really care.  Just to be with him is enough.

My stomach churns with the excitement.  I can’t eat and yet I feel so hungry.  And I can hardly sit still.  I can picture him and the picture is perfect.  His eyes, his mouth, his hair – there, right in front of me.  I want to squeeze him so hard; I want him to know that I’ve missed him, although I think he might get it anyway.  I hope so and I hope he feels the same.

The excitement is so bad I want to leave now, as if by being there it will make the plane early!

Waiting is both agony and ecstasy!

For V

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People ask how it feels to live the kind of life others dream about
I tell them everybody gotta face their highs and their lows
And in my life there’s a love I put aside
‘Cos I was busy loving something else
So for every little thing you hold on to
You’ve got to let something else go

How I wish I, wish I’d done a little bit more
Now shoulda woulda coulda means I’m out of time
‘Cos shoulda woulda coulda can’t change your mind
And I wonder, wonder, wonder what I’m gonna do
Shoulda woulda coulda are the last words of a fool

I hope he does the right thing, if he can and it’s not too late.

Anyway a great song by a great singer for everyone to enjoy.

Who’s the thief?

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My cleaner, one time, asked if he could take some biscuits. To be honest, these were in a cupboard that he never needs to go in. It’s never really bothered me that cleaners would look in places they shouldn’t but……the request made me a little uneasy. However, of course, I said ‘yes’.

I had some apples in the basket on the kitchen table. There were four. The night before last, I went to get one and noticed that there were only three. Last night, I had one of the two that were left.

I thought, the night before last (the cleaner comes that day and I was here when he left), that I must speak to him about it. And, then again, it’s not such a big deal, is it.

And so, tonight, I thought, I just fancy the last apple. I was making a cup of tea at the time. I turned to the table and the basket was empty (and, also, slightly moved).

Ordinarily, of course, one would have suspected the cleaner, coming in for food but it’s a long way out of his way just to come for an apple.

I have a thief and I know who it is. So now, in the kitchen, at least, I shall have to ensure that there is nothing out that is within reach of ………… Dino, of course!

I can’t wait until tomorrow afternoon

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Overall, it’s not been too bad.  I didn’t get paranoid apart from the other night, when he didn’t text back quickly enough.  Oh, yes, and then after Monday night when I got drunk and phoned him so late.

And then there’s today.  And today I start to worry about how it will be when we meet at the airport.  I mean, after a week apart, will I really feel that something again?  And this is after this morning, when I had woken before the alarm and started to think of us, in bed, and sex and all that and how good that made me feel and seeing him and holding him and being with him and being turned on by only the thoughts of him.

So there!  It’s just being stupid.  Although not helped by the fact that I’ve had no message this morning.  Normally one of us texts in the morning and the other replies and then we have several text exchanges during the day.  Today, so far, there have been no texts from him, which is strange.  So I texted and went for the receipt on delivery thing you can do.  No receipt.  This means he has no phone (forgotten) or it has no battery or something else.

Of course, the “something else” worries me.  I am a worrier, it seems; no, it’s not ‘seem’, I know I am.

And, tomorrow, I shall make Shepherd’s/Cottage Pie (one of his favourites) and, maybe Nan’s Trifle or Treacle Tart and then take them with me when I pick him up, so we can have that Saturday night or, if he doesn’t want that ‘cos he’s too tired, Sunday.

We spoke last night as I’m walking back from A’s house where I had been for a drink.  He asked if we were going to FfI’s house on Saturday night.  I said no and that I had told everyone that he would be tired and that, anyway, we hadn’t seen each other for a week and that we wouldn’t be going anywhere.  He was pleased with that and said so.  I remember how it is when you’ve been away.  And then there’s the adjustments that you (have to) make when you’re back together – although we haven’t been together long enough for there to be a real problem with that – that comes later with time I think.

So, there’s me worrying about how I will feel when we are together again………and then, seconds later thinking about how I want to hold him and kiss him and squeeze him and stroke his feet and caress his back and run my hand over his head like I do and play with his ears and kiss those too to turn him on and look at him………..and?

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A friend said to me that V wasn’t very nice (to the friend).  I feigned not knowing and not understanding.  But I knew.  And V was like that sometimes.  It made my life more difficult.  I don’t know what to say/didn’t know what to say.  I said that I still loved him and that you can’t just let 20 years go and that V was a little strange sometimes.  I had to stop the friend bad-mouthing V.

It was true but I don’t want to hear someone else making out he was not perfect.  I can do that but can’t hear it from someone else.  Strange, I thought.  What does it mean?

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I look at his picture on the screen.  I look into his eyes.  I love that face.

I can’t wait until tomorrow afternoon.