Tag Archives: Friends and Inimies

More Tourist stuff to do in Milan

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Jean was here for a few days. She had just turned 70 and, for her birthday present, I bought her the ticket to come.

The first time she came, about 18 months ago, we did all the things I do, if possible, for first time visitors – Duomo, Duomo roof, Dialogue in the Dark, Villa Necchi.

So, what to do this time?

Well, although it involved an early start, the day after she came, we went to Venice. I didn’t tell her where we were going and, in spite of the fact that the train was for Venezia, I hoped that Venezia and Venice were different enough for her not to realise. Luckily I was right. She has only started going abroad in her 60s, so is a little more naive than most – but in a good way.

We passed Verona (which she had heard of) and the sun was shining. As we approached Venice, the weather was a bit more miserable – fog – and it seemed cold. We got to Mestre, the stop before Venice and the sign said VE Mestre. She asked me what VE stood for and I said it was just part of the name. I said that the weather didn’t seem so good so at the next station we would go back to Verona.

When the train pulled up in Venice, we got out (with everyone else, of course as it was the end of the line) but she didn’t seem to notice. I said that we needed to see when the next train back to Verona was. And then I said I had to have a cigarette first. So we walked outside to the front of the station which looks out over the Grand Canal.

She cried, which was rather sweet. Anyway, we had a rather lovely day, although, in Venice, there are just too many people/tourists. Living there must be a nightmare!

Day two was much easier. I took her to Casa Museo Boschi di Stefano, which is only a short walk from my house. Then we sat at a café on Corso Buenos Aires, then did a bit of shopping, then another café. As we were sitting, we saw one of the sightseeing buses and I asked if she would like to do that for the next day. She replied that she would. After all, we had walked so much in Venice I was a bit worried about over-doing it.

So,day three was a trip to the Castle where we caught the City Sightseeing bus. It costs €20 per person and there are three different routes (the €20 covers all three) or you can get a 48 hours pass for €5 more! The automatic guide (you get headphones to plug in) are in a number of languages. We went on two of the routes and, if you’re a first-time visitor, I think it’s well worth it. You get to see all the main tourist sights, can hop on and off at any of the stops to visit something you want to see and/or enjoy the ride. It was the first time I had been and I wish they had had them when I first came to Milan.

I’ve put a link to the right (in the useful sites for Milan section).

If you come, do it. It’s a great way to see the city.

The Lives and Loves of Hana Lee

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I’ve just read my first “real” e-book (or is it ebook like email. Perhaps, in time, it will become an ebook).

This is one written by someone I know. Well, I say “know” in that I’ve been following his blog (The Ugly Truth) and he came to stay one night at my place on his way somewhere else and we had a pizza and a beer.

Anyway, it’s good and you should read it and not only to support him in his first venture in self-publishing (but not his first book).

The book is The Lives and Loves of Hana Lee.

It’s rather good and I read it in a few days (which tells you that it’s good) even if I would have preferred a paper copy.

I warn you now that it has quite a lot of sex in it – but, for those of you who like sex, I guess that’ll be just fine.

I recommend it. Read the sample in the link above and then, of course, buy it. You will buy it ‘cos you’ll like the sample and you’ll just HAVE TO find out what happens. :-)

Piero is nearly as big as Dino!

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Piero has grown.

In fact, everyone who hasn’t seen him for more than about a week comments on how fast he has grown.

And he has. His shoulders are now just a few inches below Dino’s. He hasn’t got Dino’s bulk (not that Dino is fat, jut muscled) nor power but he’s working on it. The games of ‘tug’ that they have every night prove this.

Piero is still very ‘cute’ though, even if he is nearly the same size.

And it got me to thinking about whether Dino was this big when he was seven months old. I thought I might have commented on it in the blog so went back a way to see if I could find out. I didn’t find it. Instead, what I found was the end of V and I (Dino was just about 10 months old at the time). I should go back, from time to time, to see what was happening then.

For example, I found the post where I had been to see the flat that I am now living in.

I found some posts that were quite well written. But then, a tortured mind seems to a requisite for good writing. Perhaps I should randomly go back and have a look at some posts I wrote? It’s interesting to see the change from a different year. After all, this blog has been going for nearly 7 years now and a lot of things have changed in those seven years.

Anyway, back to Piero.

He is cute, he is much bigger, he is more affectionate, he is very, very playful and he is a right little bastard.

But wonderful too.

However, Dino is still the best dog ever.

But I love them both, just the same. And, as my friend C, from London, wrote recently, F REALLY loves the dogs. So all is well.

I was exhausted

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It will rain all day on Saturday so I can’t escape to the park with the dogs :'(

As someone pointed out – it’s the wrong time of year for it.

Not the weather, of course. The weather is typical.

Last Saturday, it was still the wrong time of year but, at least, it wasn’t raining.

Saturday.

Morning.

Too early. I was told to take the dogs out for a walk.

I came back and he had already started. He hasn’t even dressed – just in underpants and T-shirt. He stays like this all day. I busy myself with going shopping, doing bits and pieces, occasionally responding to requests for something or for something to be held or for something to be found or something moved.

I also sit in the chair just outside the kitchen. Playing a game on my telephone, smoking, being bored. But there’s not a lot else I can do.

When it’s finished, I am completely exhausted. My legs feel as if I have been up the ladder all day. I can barely walk – and, yet, I have done very little towards the actual ‘work’.

This Saturday it is the turn of the hallway. He didn’t really like the orange wall in the kitchen but painted it the same anyway. I think it was a compromise. He definitely DOESN’T like the red-painted alcove in the hallway – but it will still be red after Saturday. I told him that I liked it, which I do and, if you’ve been reading this blog long enough, you will know that it was one of the reasons I fell in love with the flat.

So it will remain red.

This Saturday will be different. This Saturday I will be cleaning everything which has been moved out so that, when it’s put back, it will be clean. Apparently.

And, yes, it IS the wrong time of year – but it’s necessary, apparently, for Chirstmas.

He is already planning the tree. We have talked about his main present (it is a turntable to permit him to digitalise his vinyl record collection – and, as a by product, he will be able to digitalise mine too (although he doesn’t know that yet :-) )). We have talked about my present (which will be a new television).

But, Christmas preparations are a seperate post, I think.

For this one is about preparing the flat. And, this year, it’s not just a clean. It’s a paint-job.

So, kitchen down. Hallway this Saturday. Lounge the Saturday after. The bedroom the week after. Really it’s for him and, quite possibly, so that he can have his friends over during the Christmas period.

Christmas has never been this much of a pain in the arse. Nor as exhausting.

Last Thursday – Eating and Drinking – I’m in Italy, so what else would there be :-)

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There’s this wine that we got last year. It’s delicious. I’m no wine expert but this is a smooth, deep-red, full-bodied, tasty wine. It’s called Roverone.

Last Thursday, we went to get more, with friends. The same friends who we were with last year. It’s a vineyard, set in the low hills south of Milan, between Pavia and Lodi. It’s still in Lombardy so it’s Lombardy wine they produce/sell. The vineyard is Nettare dei Santi. We got one bottle of white too, for F. The Roverone will be my wine for Christmas, for sure :-)

After we were there, we went to the same restaurant as last time, the Trattoria Righini, which I have posted about before.

You get served all at the same time, with many, many small courses. Having been there once already, i was much more careful this time – NOT to eat F’s left-overs and NOT to ask for seconds. I succeeded with the first but not always the second. In any event, we got there at 12.30 and left sometime after 4.30!

The food is fresh and they use in-season vegetables. You don’t get a choice of menus – you just decline (or in my case, accept) the dish they are serving you at the time.

In any event, we ate and drank far too much but it was fun and great food and drink and a rather wonderful day all together.

I did go and have a lie-down for an hour when I got home.

Also, I didn’t actually feel like eating anything at all until about yesterday!

p.s. I DID eat, of course, I just didn’t really WANT to eat :-)

1 Englishman, 1 American and 2 Italians in a pub.

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There’s an Englishman, American, two Italians and two dogs, sitting in a bar ………

Sounds like the start of a good joke, doesn’t it?

OK then, let’s continue …..

The humans are talking about this and that, having a few drinks. It’s a pleasant evening, quite warm and, whilst not exactly outside, they are in a semi-covered area, stuck in a corner. It was the only place available. They are sittiing around a small, round table.

They haven’t seen each other for a while and it’s good to chat.

Suddenly, and without warning, there is this awful, retch-inducing smell.

The Englishman, being English, says nothing but pretends that nothing is happening.

The Italians, being ‘out’ say nothing and pretend that nothing is happening.

The American, having lived in Europe long enough, politely says nothing and pretends that nothing is happening.

The dogs, being non-human, say nothing.

The position in the bar means that there is no escape. And, to move would be to ‘know’ and no one wants that, do they?

Two, three or maybe four times this happens.

Each time it seems worse than the last.

Eventually, everyone leaves to go home.

____________________________________________________________________________________________

“It was Piero,” says F, as we are walking home. And I agree.

We had brought the dogs with us as our friends wanted to see the puppy, even if he is 5 months old and quite large now.

I mean, you get this problem with oldeer dogs. Occasionally, Dino ‘drops one’. But for such a young puppy – but it’s true and I agree. That night, when they were in separate rooms, it comes again and confirms it’s Piero.

Bloody dog! I haven’t even changed his food!

In any event, it wasn’t a joke at all. But what were we to do?

Mantova Festivaletteratura

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Note: I wrote part of this on the train, on my way to the Mantova Festivaletteratura. 6th September. The rest is from memory.

It’s 8.15. I’m on the train. I have butterflies in my stomach, partly because I am always like this when using public transport and partly because, since last night, I have been quite excited about going to the Festival.

It is far too early to be up on a holiday but I decided, this year, to take the train rather than drive. It means I don’t have to worry about drinking, the traffic, parking, etc. But also, I think, it is much cheaper, even if I am travelling 1st class against motorway tolls and petrol.

So I sit in leather seats, in comfort, with room to move around and can relax.

As I write, we have left, exactly on time. The rail service, here, is really very good. And 1st class is worth the 5€ extra.

The countryside is not really beautiful, to me. We are in the Lombardy plain, there are no hills. The flat fields to either side are full of ready-to-harvest rice – which plants look similar to sweet corn (maize to Americans, maiz to Italians), like dead stalks rather than food, or just-harvested fields with the few inches of dried stalks left.

Occasionally we pass buildings. Old, abandoned buildings – except they aren’t really abandoned. There are telltale signs – window shutters open, a car parked outside, washing hanging from the window.

Or small villages or towns, clustered houses which end abruptly to fields of sweet corn or rice or hay.

We pass through a station called Pizzaghettone (or something like that) and then, immediately over the river Po, I assume, the other side of which is a small village – which reminds me of Crespi d’Adda – a factory (still operating) with purpose-built houses and blocks of flats nearby. I must check it out sometime.

There are points on the line where the rail is single track. the train slows and passes through wooded areas. It looks so beautiful as the early morning sunlight shines through so it is not gloomy. We could be anywhere.

We arrive, on time.

This is, in fact, the first time I have come to Mantova by train and, if I am on my own, it is certainly something to consider next time.

I walk from the station through to the centre and the Festival office. I arrive at the square near to Piazza del Erbe. There is a café there that sells some special Mantovan pastry. I stop and sit at a table. In any case, I need coffee. It is hot and perfect.

The waitress comes and I try to get what I want but, either they have run out or they don’t sell it any more. I have coffee with a doughnut. It’s not brilliant but it’s OK.

I walk round to the office. It’s the first day of the festival but there are plenty of people around. I go into the office. They have changed things around a bit. I look for Marella but can’t see her. I see Sara and the guy from Sweden or Norway or somewhere of whom, to my disgust, I can never remember his name. He’s such a nice guy too. But I am crap with names. Sara explains that Marella is not feeling well. I am disappointed because I usually spend 10 minutes chatting to her and it’s always a nice start. However, Sara sorts me out, including which events to see. I have all day and only three events so plenty of time for sitting, relaxing, drinking and eating.

So, I leave the busy office, not wanting to be a burden, knowing, having worked at the Hay Festival, that you really don’t want people just hanging about. There is work to do, after all.

I make my way up to Piazza Sordello and one of the outside cafés. I sit and, even if it is about 11 a.m., I will have a beer :-)

Except the waiter ignores me. And I read about my first event. I check the time – it starts in less than 15 minutes. I abandon my idea of a beer and get up and walk towards the location. As I near the place, I pass another cafée and decide that I will have that beer after all.

I sit outside and order. I have 10 minutes. It’s enough time.

As I drink my beer, a ‘minder’ comes with two people. Americans. Since the couple have a minder, he or she must be an author or, at least, speaker. I look at him but don’t have any idea who he is. The minder is obviously bored with them or cannot find things to say. She checks her phone. I contemplate the idea of talking to him (for his partner has gone across the street to take photos) but don’t. After all, I don’t actually know who he is and just because I speak almost the same language, doesn’t mean I have to speak to him. Indeed, just because you’re gay doesn’t mean I will like you – in fact, I don’t really have many gay friends – I find I have little in common.

I suddenly realise I am going to be late and finish my beer, pay at the counter and go to the event. It is called Translation Slam. It may have been wonderful if it had been an English author but, unfortunately, the author was Spanish – so although I understood some of the Italian, the whole thing was quite difficult to follow.

After this, it was time for lunch. Lunch, of course, had to be Griffone Bianco (see link on right). I wandered up to Piazza Erbe. I could see some of the old buildings fenced off – the earthquake near Modena affected Mantova too – but none of them seemed to have fallen down – just a few bricks or slates having fallen to the ground.

As I walked up to the restaurant, I saw Peter, sitting on his own. I went to say hello and he invited me to join him, even if he was already on desert. I had a very pleasant lunch time and we chatted and ate and drank (although he only drank water) and it took about two and a half hours.

The next event was just after 3. Steven Greenblatt. It was OK and, obviously, all his bits were in English which helps a lot :-)

On my way back to the office, I passed a shop which sold belts (amongst other things) and called in and bought a belt which I had needed for ages. Then I went to the office to enquire about Marella. Apparently she was going to come in later. But then I was off to my next event. It was Peter interviewing Aiden chambers – so all in English (with translations for the Italian audience. Mr Chmabers did seem quite a crazy guy (in what he thought) but it was interesting none the less.

During the event, Marella texted me to ask how it was going, were there many people, etc. There were a lot of people – almost full and I thought it went very well – the audience seemed to appreciate it.

Then, as Marella was now in the office, I went down to see her. Whilst waiting for her, Peter arrived and she grabbed him to ask if he would go to dinner with some important people of the Festival. Then she asked if I could come too. Is said I could for about half an hour as I had to catch a train. She said that was fine.

We got a taxi and ended up at the ‘staff canteen’. Mantova has an enormous number of volunteers – mostly kids from schools and universities and the one thing that Mantova does well is look after them. They have a huge canteen serving food all day and evening. I found it amusing that we were going to dinner there – what with such important people in Mantova!

We followed Marella into the ‘authors & special people’ dining room – away from the hordes of kids (thank goodness). There were about 10 very large, round tables, with tableclothes on. We were introduced to these people (a couple – the woman of which I had seen at Peter’s gig). Then we got food from where they were serving and sat down.

Considering these people had really wanted Peter to come, they hardly spoke to him which both Peter and I found quite strange. In fact, the guy spoke more to me – about the dogs, as it happens.

And, finally, Marella and I got a few moments to talk when I promised to try and bring F (and, maybe, the dogs) there next year. Well, he’s met Lola now and likes both her and G, so I’m on a roll right now!

Of course, because the time was short, I completely forgot to ask about Marella’s daughter – which I felt terrible about afterwards.

I left quite soon and walked to the station. I arrived with a few minutes to spare and got on the train. It left on time but, unfortunately, there was a delay on the way back (another train in front had some problems) and so I didn’t get into Milan until 11.30.

But, I thought as I caught the tram back – here (as opposed to Hay), I can wear my sandals all day and night – and that makes everything so much more pleasant.

However, I had a super day and was so glad that Marella (even though slightly sickly) was able to come. I’m sure that, without her (sorry Sara), the festival wouldn’t actually be quite the same at all.

So, next year, I have to try and persuade F to take a day off and come – even if it is his busy time of year.

Mother of My Children – Apply now!

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“Family are important”

He wanted me to blog that I had said that since he found it strange or funny or both. Not the sentiment, you understand, just that I had said it.

But, to understand the statement, you need to understand the background.

He has a girlfriend. Or a might-be girlfriend. Or a maybe girlfriend. In any case, they’ve spent some time together.

“Have you met her parents yet?,” I ask.

Of course not. Relationships, for some people, go at snails pace. I know that, but I like to ask these things. Like I liked to ask “Have you kissed her yet?”

Please note that I didn’t ask for intimate details. I really don’t want to know about others’ sex life. A) it’s not my business and B) it is better not to be put into a position of imagining it all. I really don’t want to know. But, on the basis that, once, I was told about a girl with whom he had ‘had lunch’ several times and who was a ‘serious contender’ for the title of ‘Mother of my children’ – but who, with further questioning turned out to not know she was in the running for ‘mother of my children’ title and, in fact, had absolutely no idea that he was even interested in her, I like to ask questions to try to determine the ‘real’ state of things.

For your interest, the answers were 1. No and 2. Yes.

The ‘No’ was because ‘it’s complicated’. Complicated by the fact that the mother is a friend of a cousin and, therefore, word would spread and then ‘Mother’ would be involved and he doesn’t want interference.

I can only imagine.

But I justified my question by stating that ‘Family is important’.

After all, if she is to win the competition for ‘Mother of my children’, you need to know that a) you LIKE the family and b) that the family LIKE you.

He did make a valid point of the fact that this would be impossible for a partner of mine.

But to counter that I would say that, even if I could have children with my partner, my family would never know, let alone be involved. And, in any event, my family wouldn’t like my partner on the basis that he would be a man.

So the correct statement should be that ‘Family are important – as long as it’s not mine’.

Anyway, it seems like the competition for ‘Mother of my children’ is moving forward.

Of course, to me, every new one is a winner. That’s because I only get the barest of information about them and I only get that after asking A LOT of questions, since information is NOT forthcoming. It would, indeed, be easier to get blood from a stone.

And, sometimes I get a bit frustrated. Hence the question ‘Have you kissed her yet?’ And, anyway, asking a question like that gets a real response – at least non-verbal, which can sometimes say more than a verbal response.

I guess I’m quite wicked sometimes :-)

A trip to Pietrasanta and back to the Garden

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My forecast says that, in about an hour, it will be 35 degrees C but it will feel like 41!

In fact, I suspect it is more since, this morning, on our way to Pietrasanta to meet Lola and G, many of the displays outside chemists were already suggesting it to be 34 degrees.

For certain, it is VERY hot but, whichever way you look at it, it’s much, much better than being cold – well, unless you are F, of course.

I have forced the dogs to come outside in the garden. They weren’t keen to leave the house – which is the first time I can remember. But it is equally cool (or, rather, slightly less hot) at the back of the house, which remains in shade all day. There is the chance of a small breeze outside, from time to time.

And it is peaceful.

And, I am British, so outside when the weather is nice is a “must” – which, to be honest, is not Italian.

We had a nice (though smallish) lunch in Pietrasanta with Lola and G and the dogs.

Lola is getting a new dog tomorrow so is very excited. And, in September/October, we shall go to their place so the puppies can play in their garden – which will be lovely. I would tell you the type of dog but can’t as I have been sworn to secrecy by G. However, it’s a fantastic dog and I think Lola will be very happy even if it’s not going to be like Duick.

Now I am alone with the dogs whilst F goes to get his hair cut.

It’s perfect weather for a nice glass of cold wine or beer so, once I’ve posted that, I think I will be drinking just that.

Enjoy your weekend.

I am not 20

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Personally, I think it was the last mojito that did it. After all, it wasn’t a mojito at all but, rather than rum, was something else entirely.

I was, as said by one of the characters in the Fast Show, Rowley Birkin QC, and shown below, very, very drunk.

Of course, I didn’t go out with the intention of ending up completely wasted. No, no. It was just a meal out with friends. We didn’t even start off by drinking much. OK so an aperitivo at the bar we all met up in. And, I suppose, I did drink most of E’s drink since she didn’t like it.

Then we ahd some wine with the meal. Well, three bottles of the good stuff and a carafe of the house wine but that was between six of us.

OK so one person hardly drunk any, another only slightly more, so I guess effectively 4 bottles between 4 which, I suppose, is a bottle each.

But it was the beach party that did it really.

One of the nice things about Italy is the cocktails. There’s no such thing as gills. Or is it gils? In any event – measuring. They don’t do it.

Since the barman was the son of E (who’s drink I had nearly drunk earlier), he did the mojitos for me and Alf. I’m not a fan but it was a disco (with the dreadful Italian summer music) and there was sand beneath my feet and it was warm and people were dancing and it seemed to go down quite well.

At some point, someone mentioned going for a swim in the sea but, even in my inebriated state, I knew that was dangerous and declined – saying it was dangerous. In the end, no one did go for a swim. Maybe I had frightened them. Or, at least, made them think.

I wasn’t going to have another but, you know, it seemed we weren’t likely to go home any time soon and so, I thought, why not?

Of course, in the light of day there were a million and one reasons why not. But it was not the light of day but about 1 a.m. These reasons did not even cross my mind. But, apparently, they had run out of rum and so our wonderful new friend, the barman, suggested something else which we agreed to try.

To be honest, by then, it could well have been antifreeze and I would have drunk it. Perhaps it was antifreeze? I drank it anyway. And then I remember very little until about 7 a.m. when I first woke up.

Not when I GOT up, mind you. Just woke up. The dogs were being a bit of a pain so I let them out in the garden.

F woke up about 10.15. I had woken up several times between 7 and then. We got up and took the dogs out.

In the end, we got to the beach about 12.30 – about 3 hours later than we usually do. As F said, we shouldn’t really do this very often and I totally agree. It’s not like we’re 20 any more.

Still it was a nice evening. From what I recall!