I found three other possibles for a place to live, on the internet. One was an agency (sort of) as I phoned it myself.

FfI came round just after 6. She phoned the other two. One was an agency but would take no commission and the other was an agency. Also we phoned the flat-in-the-building-we-both-like but there was no answer as it must be an office or something.

Then we went off to the flat-on-the-perfect-street. I have to admit that I was very nervous. This was for two reasons (but it still doesn’t make it less crazy that I was nervous at all): the first reason was that I was worried that my friend wouldn’t like it (assuming I still did) and secondly, after revisiting the perfect flat over the weekend and thinking that had shrunk, would the flat-on-the-perfect-street, which in my head was already quite small, have shrunk?

I was being apologetic on our short walk to the flat-on-the-perfect-street. Outside, the street was still perfect.

>We rang the buzzer and were let into the building. In Italy, many buildings have a large pair of wooden doors (large enough, when open, to permit a medium size truck in to deliver stuff) and then, in the evening or weekends, in one of the great wooden doors there is a smaller door cut out to allow people in and out when the large doors are closed. It was this door that was opened remotely and through this door we stepped

Into a covered passageway (covered by the building above and the passageway being high enough to permit said truck). At the other end of the passage way is a small courtyard. Overgrowing with green plants but in a structured, ordered way; some bicycles parked around. It is like being at the bottom of a large well. This was what I had always wanted when we came to Milan. One of these secret inner courtyards.

I exclaim to FfI that it is very pretty and that I really like it.

There are three entrances, to three separate buildings that, by their being arranged next to each other form the courtyard. We go to the right and up a couple of steps to the door to ‘my’ block. Inside, straight ahead, is the lift. It’s one of the old lifts of Milan. You open the door and then open the inner doors. In the lift we selected 3, the flat being on the third floor (I think that’s the fourth floor for the Americans amongst you, dear readers, as the ground floor to us is the 1^st floor to you). The lift is in the centre of the stairwell, gorgeously encased in wrought iron.

The lift thinks about our command for a moment and then decides to, ponderously, make its was up to the third floor.

We open the double inner doors and then the outer door and turn left. There are, I think, about 5 different flats on this floor. We turn left and it’s just there on the right. We ring the bell. The lady who is renting the flat is on the phone but bids us enter. The hallway is quite wide but not so long. Every wall is painted white except part of the wall on the left which is painted a deep red, in front of which are book cases that she will be taking with her. It is warm and inviting.

Whilst the lady is on the phone, I show my friend into the kitchen. Here, in Italy, you can have a cucinotta (a tiny kitchen big enough for one person), a cucina (probably like a galley kitchen with units on one side) and a cucina abitabile (big enough for a table). Of course, the table could be small enough for two people or big enough for a dinner party. This one is big enough for a table for four and for them to be comfortable. I had told my friend that the kitchen wasn’t new nor brilliant but was, really, abitabile. I am not disappointed. It remains the same size – big enough. The stove/cooker is not wonderful but will do for a while. There is a washing machine, a fridge freezer, a cupboard built in to the wall. There is space.

We walk out and the next door along the hall is for the bathroom. I had said that the bathroom is so narrow that, when you get up from the toilet you would have to be careful about banging your head on the wall opposite. Thankfully, it’s not true. OK so it isn’t wide but it’s wider than I remembered. The units are oldish, the sink is cracked. The shower is at the end, near the window, and takes up the whole width (since it isn’t at all wide) of the end of the bathroom. But it’s all adequate, certainly for me, who doesn’t spend hours in the bathroom.

We leave the bathroom and at the end of the hallway is the door to the lounge. The lounge is as I remembered. I love it. It seems wider than I remember and at least as long. I can see my (our) furniture in there. The sofa, the coffee table, maybe even the bookcase and, perhaps, the dining table (as long as it was not extended). It could work.

The bedroom is through a door immediately to the left as you walk into the lounge. It is big and square. Removing her enormous, old, wardrobe, would make the space so big. There is room for the bed, the bedside tables, the wardrobe, the chest of drawers and the desk. There is room! It’s not shrunk between the time I saw it last and now.

It is warm and cozy. I can live here. I can afford it. It is old (early 1900s) and, for me, the perfect sanctuary from the hustle and bustle of Milan, from the trials and tribulations of work and life. It is a place where, with friends, I can enjoy an evening with good food and wine. It’s close to everything I know and love about Milan; the dog walks; the park. Maybe, after all it isn’t just the flat-on-the-perfect-street but rather the perfect-flat-on-the-perfect-street!

Later, we leave and catch a tram to the next place. My friend has fallen in love with the pictures that were on the internet. The flat is on three levels and was ‘architect’ designed. We are early so we go for an apero. A great new bar with great apero food although the aperos are €8 each, which, in these times, is expensive, we feel, however good the food may be. However, we note it and decide it’s still a nice place for an apero.  It’s called the Piave Pasticceria on Viale Premuda.

We arrive at the architect-designed-flat.

It is beautiful but it has many buts. She loves it but it remains too expensive; remains difficult for the dogs and the bedroom (which is in the form of a large landing) has a ceiling that is so low I cannot stand up straight. Obviously, this is a place to sleep not party but I still need to stand up when dressing and walking to the bathroom!

It’s no to that one.

I am to call the owner of the perfect-flat-on-the-perfect-street the next day (today) and start the process. I am happy and excited. It is the start of something new that I am truly happy with. Obviously, there is a long way to go, but I am happy with the view of the future and that is very, very good.