Monthly Archives: August 2010

F has an idea!

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“I’ve had an idea”, he says. I have many ideas, most of which I keep to myself. I now know that he does too.

He doesn’t tell me straight away. Cleaning teeth, playing the new game on Facebook all go towards a delay in telling me. It isn’t until we get into bed that it is explained.

I should, perhaps, first explain that, the holiday plans go something like this:

We go back to his home town and stay with his brother (AKA Johnny Depp) and sister-in-law, taking our dogs (I can say ‘our’ now – see previous post). We go either next Tuesday afternoon/evening or Wednesday morning (possibly early).

We stay there until Saturday (so three or four nights).

On Saturday we (the dogs and us) go to the flat we have booked in Umbria. We stay there until the following Saturday.

The following Saturday we return to home town and he said he wants to go and stay at his parents place. He has an extra week’s holiday. I come back to Milan and go to work and the following weekend I go back down for the weekend and to pick him up and we return to Milan.

You may notice that the dogs are absent from the last paragraph.

I had thought that, maybe, I could leave the dogs with him – that was until he said he would like to stay at his parents’.

I had not mentioned my idea – but although Dino was really good on both car journeys last weekend and was not sick and drooled a lot less than normal, I didn’t fancy a couple of hours back to the home town and then another 2 or 3 hours to Milan. Dino, however good he may be, may struggle with that one.

But, as I say, my hopes were dashed, somewhat, when he said he would be staying with his parents. Luckily, I hadn’t said anything.

Back to his idea.

“Perhaps I could take the dogs for the week when you come back to Milan”, he said, continuing “but I’m worried about Rufus”.

His worry about Rufus (and there is another post coming up on him worrying, probably) is because Rufus is old and I know things that Rufus does that other people (actually only him) worry about but which are fine, really, because I know Rufus. When he does the teeth chattering thing, for example – it’s OK – I know why or, rather, I know the cause. So when F gets worried, I assure him it’s OK.

We need to see the other house that he and his brother owns. We aren’t stopping there not, as I thought, because the flat is not clean but rather because the garden is overgrown and, therefore, is full of mosquitoes and other parasites that might affect the dogs. I’m not overly worried – but I need to see it first. Perhaps next week.

I suggest that, if he would like, he can keep Dino and I just take Rufus with me since Dino and F have that special bond – they love each other so much.

I also suggest that it would be OK and I would take the dogs back with me because then he can have more of a relaxing holiday. The key (for me) is the other house. I need to see it to determine if I can allay his fears or if he is correct. Maybe next week.

Still, I’m glad that he came up with the suggestion and I thanked him for the idea. I also said that he shouldn’t worry about Rufus and, anyway, I was only a telephone call or text away and, if anything really bad happened, I could be there within a couple of hours.

They have two dogs.

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The differences between us and the Italians are many. I think we Brits like the idea of Italy so much because of these differences. They are little things; in themselves, of no importance but adding them together, there is a whole world waiting to be discovered or ready to trip up the unsuspecting ex-pat from the UK (and, probably, other places too).

Take one as an example. We have lunch – in the garden, in the gazebo, under the trees which are ten times the height of the small ‘holiday home’ but which help to lower the temperature to a very comfortable level. We spend nearly all the time in the garden. The dogs enjoy it and we enjoy it. We sit and chat (or, rather, they sit and chat – I sit and listen…mostly) or play cards or eat.

Lunch was what one would expect. Simple but beautiful food – slices of tomato with a slice of mozzarella on each, drizzled with good olive oil and sprinkled with parsley; slices of prosciutto and coppa; good bread and foccacia; lettuce leaves coated with the same olive oil – and my favourite – celery and parmigiana with some seasoning (I must find out what). All served with wine or beer and water, of course – siamo in Italia.

It wasn’t the meal that was different. Hell, in the UK we have similar, if not quite so good and fresh. No it was afterwards. And this bit I have never known happen in the UK – we got in the car to drive to a café for coffee! And, of course, not like you do it in the UK – it wasn’t a big thing in itself – we stood at the bar and drank it within a few minutes. The big thing was that it was run by the daughter of someone that F had gone to college with. But I’m not sure that’s the reason we went!

But we would never have gone out for coffee in the UK. It is strange but nice but always reminds me that I remain a stranger in a strange land.

Of course, no one knows that F is gay. Well, apart from his brother and sister-in-law. Oh and his sister (and, I presume, brother-in-law and nieces). But his parents ‘don’t know’, apparently.

So during the birthday lunch, his sister-in-law was talking to his sister. They were comparing animals.

“We’ve got two dogs and one cat and you have four cats”, she says, before adding “and they’ve got two dogs”.

F turns to me, excitedly, and says “You see, she said “they’ve got 2 dogs”” – meaning that everything was alright and everyone knows anyway, even his parents – which, of course, they do and on which I had very little doubt! And, also for him, the fact that he is included in the ‘ownership’ of the dogs is important. Which is fine by me!