Tag Archives: Weather

I don’t think I’ll be going back to live.

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“I couldn’t hardly get up this morning, Jack”, the woman in the dirty-looking pink hoodie shouts.

She isn’t shouting because of the noise, even if we are at the airport. A little later she almost screams, “Bye, Jack”.

It takes me a moment to realise that she’s doing it because the obese man opposite her is the one that is actually speaking to Jack on his mobile phone.

I am not pleased to hear that she couldn’t hardly get up this morning. Not least because of the bad English but also because of the Birmingham accent which, now, this time, this trip, really grates. Apart from the cold and the rain and the wind (as if that wasn’t enough), my desire to tell her and many, many more of ‘these people’ to ‘just fucking shut up’ has made my mind up. Unless I really, really, REALLY have to, I shan’t ever be back to live in the UK with its greyness both in weather, place and people.

Mind you, with this weather and so much abysmal, unfresh food, well, it would be enough to make anyone miserable. Obviously it didn’t rain ALL the time. There were moments of no rain and, dare I say, sunshine. The same with the food really, as I have already posted.

Not all people have this affect. Best Mate, for example. T, the new, old friend of BM who, so I was told, really wanted to meet me. That’s not unusual. People have never really understood our relationship. For that matter, neither have we (and we talked about it so I know her feelings are the same).

Just the weather alone would be enough. The people are just dreadful. The people in Hereford. The people in the airport. Just the people. I listen to other conversations. Mostly Brummie accents which really doesn’t help.

They are going or arriving. The ones arriving are dressed in shorts and T-shirts and flip-flops or sandals. They’ve come from somewhere hot, obviously. They don’t look particularly happy. Neither do the ones that are going.

They may all be respectful of personal space in terms of physical closeness but not as far as noise is concerned. I can see why other nations have such a poor view of the British people. Of course, it’s all a generalisation, even by me. Not all people are like this. My friends, for example. But there are too many like this and I don’t think I could live with it, day after day.

As I said to someone here, it’s probably as well that I don’t really understand Italian. Maybe I would have the same feeling about people here if I did?

No, I don’t think I’ll be going back to live there any time soon.

It’s much better now.

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“It’s much better now”

He adds, “You can clean more easily”. In my head I say: “No, I won’t be cleaning but you and my cleaners can clean more easily”. I actually say, “Yes, it is much better”.

The reality is that, for me, it makes no real difference but I know that, for him, it is a significant improvement. There are some ‘bits and pieces’ to finish, of course.

Later he says, “You can go through the boxes to sort them out, one by one, maybe one each evening”. Yes, I suppose I could and there’s part of me that does want to do this but the actual reality is that I doubt it will ever get done. And I do mean ‘ever’. Ah well.

He’s right though. There are certainly things that can, now, be safely thrown away. Stuff from one of the companies I closed before I came here. I don’t need to keep that paperwork now.

Earlier he had told me that An (the Milanese friend who has, recently, returned to Milan) had come round. It was whilst I was in the UK. He said she wanted to come and see it. I smiled. Of course she did. “That’ll be because you cleaned and tidied everything – so now you’re happy for people [and by ‘people’ read ‘his friends’] to come.” “Yes”, he replied, smiling too.

Apparently she was enthusing about me doing a Sunday Lunch (with Roast Beef and Yorkshire Pudding). He was all for it. Apparently. Even if he won’t eat the meat.

It wasn’t a surprise but, as my blog has been offline for so long, you wouldn’t have had the build-up.

He had told me that he would ‘sort out’ the bedroom (the last room in the flat to be sorted – by him) if I bought the boxes. I went to Ikea and bought 20 of them. I have a lot of stuff.

And so, when I was away he did what he has wanted to do from the beginning. Make my place more like his place – or, rather, as close to his place as possible. And to do this, everything must be put away. Preferably in cupboards or wardrobes but, at least, in boxes.

He had said he would leave the things under the bed. He didn’t.

A bed is a useful thing. It has legs. there is a great deal of space beneath it. the space can be used for storage. He has nothing under his bed, of course. In his flat everything is away – in cupboards or boxes.

However, during the ‘tidy up’, almost everything got moved from under the bed and put into boxes that are now on top of the wardrobes.

It’s all very neat. It’s all very clean. He’s now, quite obviously, much, much happier about it all. Especially if he feels it’s OK to invite his friend round :-)

Now, sometime this weekend, he goes down to his house to do the same there. Also, on that front, we are, apparently, going to be ‘renting a place on the beach’ for the summer. It’s quite expensive but I said we should go for it. If we don’t use it enough this year then we don’t have to renew it next year!

So now, most weekends will probably be on the beach and (hopefully) under the Tuscan sun :-)

Of course, it’s much better now that he’s back from Spain. We haven’t seen each other for a whole week. Even if he’s going away again for another week. At least I know he’s here tonight. Yes, it’s much better now.

British Food – not really all it’s cracked up to be (or, Maybe the Italians are right?)

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Well, apart from trying to fix my blog for almost a month, now, I have also been doing other things.

Take last weekend, for example.

I went to Hay-on-Wye to see Best Mate. She wasn’t able to come here this year so asked if I would go over. F and I arranged it so that he could look after the dogs (and, finally, ‘do’ the bedroom – but that’s another post).

The travel there and back was one thing, again, maybe, another post. And the weather! So cold it was like being back in winter. In fact, the weather alone would be enough for me to never go back there, certainly to live – and that’s without the other things.

However, it was lovely to see BM who was considerably better than last time.

But I came to the realisation, whilst I was there, why it is that Italians have such a fixation about English=bad food (also see Lola’s blog post).

I used to relish going back to the UK. A Kentucky Burger was high on my list, if not essential. This time, however, it was very different. The real thing I absolutely love is Roast Lamb. The British do it so well. It is now, really the only thing on my list. But let’s look at the food I did have.

I arrive at Birmingham Airport at about 9.30 a.m. BM is there to pick me up and we drive back to Hay. This is about two and a half hours or so. By the time we arrive in Hay, I am ready for lunch, having had nothing but a biscuit and a couple of small croissants on the planes (it was Air France).

We go to Kilverts. The first thing is the beer. I’m afraid I forgot the ‘wine-non-diet’. The beer is great. The UK does great beer and, in particular, the real ale. I had some mild. It was nice and smooth. We looked at the blackboard for food. There was no lamb but I could choose something else. However, they were preparing the kitchen for the Festival (which is happening as I write this). We both agreed that was a bit strange. However, we had ham sandwiches with mustard. It was OK but not really as good as it was in my mind. Still, I had more beer, so it was fine.

That night we went to Red Indigo, billed as the best Indian restaurant in Hay, which makes me laugh because it’s the only one! The food was wonderful. I had a lamb balti. And beer – although Cobra beer. Indian food has come a long way from the time I was at University when it was, really, very hot or slightly less hot muck. Now it is fresh and so tasty. As normal I had Naan bread with my balti. In the UK they do nice large, thick Naan breads. Unfortunately, here, they do rather small and much too thin Naan breads.

Saturday, I needed to go shopping. I had things to buy – things I had come for. We got into Hereford and went straight to the cafe in the centre of High Town. It’s in the open air – so we can smoke. Aside from the cold, the coffee was a ‘Starbucks’ type cappuccino. I used to love these. Now they are too hot and too big. I am used to cappuccino Italian style. Tepid, small but lovely. As we are at the ‘bar’ ordering (of course, I noticed, for the first time really, how I am used to having a waiter serve me), I saw delicious-looking Almond croissants and decided to have one.

It was the first time I realised why the Italians think English food is so bad. It is bad. At least, if you’re not in the right places it is. The croissant (brioche, here) was filled with custard (crema, here). It had flakes of almond on top. Without the flakes of almond it would have been the same as the brioche I normally have for breakfast (when we go to a cafe on the weekends), except – the crema was not soft but more of a gel and it didn’t ooze out since there was so little of it. However, the worst thing was that, being used to having brioche that has been baked that very morning – this must have been baked several days ago. It was, quite frankly, stale. If they served this kind of stuff in Italy, the café would go out of business.

And then I thought: that’s how it has always been. The British tolerate this being given very little alternative or just because we don’t complain. I would have complained but I knew that this was perfectly acceptable here, so what was the point?

Later we got some cakes from Greggs. I had a Belgian Bun. It was OK. Actually, it was quite nice – but mainly because here, in Italy, they don’t do them. At least it was fresh, unlike the croissant.

Later still we went for lunch to the The Imperial. The beer (I don’t remember what it was) was fine. I ordered Gammon with Egg. It should have been good but it wasn’t. To be honest, G, here, in our canteen, does a much better job of making it and I had to explain how to make it to her! Also there were just too many chips. Don’t get me wrong, it was OK – it just wasn’t nice enough.

That evening we weren’t able to book a table at the Black Lion and so went to the Three Tuns. This was divine. Good beer (Butty Bach, I think) and rack of lamb. This is how British food should be. Fresh vegetables, good gravy and the lamb was perfectly cooked and juicy.

Sunday, we were in Hay for reasons I cannot disclose. We did go to Shepherds for a morning cappuccino (which wasn’t bad and much more like real Italian coffee) and, more importantly, I had a Toasted Tea Cake. Oozing with butter it is one of the things from my childhood. I adore Toasted Tea Cakes and this one was as good as any I have had.

We skipped lunch and I really wasn’t hungry anyway. That evening we went to the Old Black Lion. I do like the Black Lion. The beer isn’t so special but it’s OK. The food is very good, though. Again it was lamb. Again it was fantastic. I had some meringue thing for sweet. BM chose the summer pudding which I tasted and it was far, far better than my choice!

Before the Black Lion we were back in Kilverts where we met up with T, a friend of BM’s. I had a few pints of Butty Bach and I had really forgotten how good that beer is!

The next day I was back to the airport. I was there about 2 p.m. I had over an hour to ‘kill’. I went through to departures (after stocking up on nicotine) and went to the Weatherspoons pub in the departure lounge. The choice wasn’t brilliant but I chose a cheeseburger. It arrived. It was tepid which was a shame because if it had been hot, it would have been quite nice. Of course, they can do this as there’s no time to fix it, what with departing flights and all.

But it got me to thinking that, really, in the UK, if you don’t know the places, food is quite a hit and miss affair – in fact, mainly miss.

So, Italians are right, in a way, in that British food is not that good, unless you go to a place that does good food. Elsewhere it is liable to be fairly crap.

And, for the first time, I really didn’t want a Kentucky Burger. Too much salt and fat and sugar and crap. It seems I’ve moved on a bit!

Easter Lunch

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I’m afriad both comments and pictures have been lost. Will try to find pictures and republish them soon.

Sunday was, of course, Easter Day. It is customary here, in Italy, to eat lamb. I am more than happy about that – lamb being my favourite meat. F doesn’t really eat meat but absolutely hates lamb. He says he doesn’t even like the smell of it.

We (mainly he) decided to go to eat at lunchtime on Sunday rather than in the evening. We went to Osteria Dell’Angolo (see link on the side). It is a restaurant I found in Pallanza and one that I love. The food is not like a really first class restaurant in Milan but it’s not far off. They did a special menu for Easter Sunday Lunch.

The day was warm and sunny. We ate outside in their covered area, surrounded by vegetation which, from the outside, makes it almost hidden. Certainly compared to the brashness of all the other bars looking over the lake, it seems hidden. And once you’re inside, it seems as though you have stepped into a different world. We booked on Friday evening. Since they weren’t sure about the weather, we got the last table. If the weather were to be good, we could, of course, eat outside.

The weather was great and so we settled at the round table in the corner, more or less, on our own.
The menu looked good:

We decided that, as there was a choice of two things for antipasto and primo, we would take one of each and share.

Both the antipasti were superb. The courgette mouse with tomato sauce (not Heinz, I may add) is a staple from them and I’ve had it before. It’s very delicate. The thinly sliced lake fish (whatever that may be) was even subtler but divine. We had half each.

Then came the primi.

First the ravioli filled with asparagus cream, simply done in butter with sage. Is your mouth watering already? It should be. Mine is as I write about it!

Delicate, I would say.

After half of that, we swapped plates and I had one of the rolled pancakes filled with smoked scamorza. To be honest, I usually dislike scamorza (a type of smoked cheese) but this was just perfect. I’m glad I had the primi this way round though as the smoked cheese was much stronger than the delicate ravioli.

As you can see, the pancakes were rather crispy. Mmmmmmm.

But then came the bit that I was waiting for. The Lamb!

This was my plate. I say that because we had about 4 pieces of lamb each but, as F doesn’t eat it, I got it all

I was very, very happy about that – although quite full afterwards.

For sweet, there was a piece of colomba with vanilla cream (which is actually custard although F refuses to believe it!) and a glass of spumante.

If I’m honest, I didn’t really feel that full although later, I didn’t really want any dinner.

It was lovely. I took the photos and that’s when it came up about the blog. I had to explain why I needed the photos. After being surprised I had one (although I have mentioned it before), he asked what I wrote about. I said everything. And then tried to explain that it was stuff in my head. He asked if it included him and I said that it did but that I didn’t use pictures of him nor his name.

I wonder if he’ll try to find it now?

Anyway, should you be on Lago Maggiore and near Pallanza, I recommend Osteria Dell’Angelo. It really is lovely. The service is good and the food is excellent.

Buon appetito!

It’s a dog’s holiday.

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It’s a dog’s life, so they say.

On Sunday, we walked towards Intra. We didn’t get that far. The day was warm and sunny. It wasn’t really hot but definitely warm enough for just shirts – no jackets.

As we were walking back, Rufus kept stopping. As if he was going to do a pooh or a wee – but not actually doing either and, a few seconds later, continuing. The intervals between walking and this ‘stopping for no reason’ became shorter. He was tired, bless him. It was if he was saying ‘OK, it’s enough now’. But, still, he kept going.

When we got back, we were sitting in the lounge. He was already lying down on the towels we had brought. then his head would drop with a loud thud. He was very tired.

Later, when we went out again, he was up and doing his ‘horse thing’ and ready to go out again! the resilience of dogs never ceases to amaze me but he is truly amazing.

His ‘horse thing’ used to be a full jump. For a couple of years now, he hasn’t been able to jump. Instead he lifts both his front paws off the ground just like a horse rearing up. He does it less now but was doing it all weekend.

And we walked and walked. Mostly in Pallanza. Saturday – which was the only day we actually had any rain, we walked to Intra. At Intra they have a market on a Saturday. the walk is around the edge of the lake. It was cloudy and cool. I felt a few spots of rain but didn’t tell F as he would have wanted to turn back. Just before we got to Intra it started to rain. Not hard but enough. Luckily, we got to Intra just before it started to rain heavily and found some shelter. However, within 15 minutes it had virtually stopped and we were able to walk around the market, the pretty town and then stop for a drink and a panino each.

And then we walked back. We were out for about 5 hours. After this they were exhausted – and so were we. We got back and watched telly for a bit and then went for an aperitivo by the lake – and had a little walk with the dogs who acted like they had never had a walk all day!

Most of the time there it was walking and resting with some eating thrown in. I have photos and will post some shortly. Most photos include or are of the dogs! It was a dog’s holiday alright!

Comments lost, unfortunately.

An eventful uneventful weekend; A supermarket open every day in Milan; Dog walking

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Well, it didn’t really last long. Three days, in fact. Still, it’s the thought that counts, isn’t it?

Isn’t it? Tell me ‘yes’, please?

Well sort of.

It was an uneventful yet eventful weekend. I mean to say, for most people almost uneventful. For me, quite major things were done.

In particular, I am talking about sewing.

Yes, this post may not be the most exciting ever. Please look away now if you are afraid it might be boring. If you do read it, you can’t then say I didn’t warn you. And it is looooong!

I am, as you may know (or have guessed), a gay man. Actually, an old, gay man. But I’m not really your typical ‘gay’. I am, as N would say, quite a straight, gay man. An old, straight, gay man.

I don’t sew. Well, I do but only when I have to and we’re talking simple things here. Buttons and stuff. Buttons are hard. But not as hard as real sewing. But, like ironing and cleaning, they take me a long time. And, just like ironing and cleaning, if I can, I put it off.

So, all the shirts that I had that lost a button or ripped or needed some sort of repair had been, over the last (OMG! I just realised over the last 18 months or two years!!) ahem, period of time, had been hung in a special part of the wardrobe.

But, I was ‘running out’ of workshirts and having to use the ones that F had bought for me. So, on Saturday morning I said to him that I was going to have to go out and buy some. And then, I thought, of course, I’ve probably got a couple that just need buttons so I should do them first and then I would know how many I really needed.

So, Saturday morning, after F left to go to his place and ‘tidy up a bit’, I thought OK, I’ll do it or, at least, look to see how many I could ‘reclaim’.

I really didn’t realise how much stuff I had in that wardrobe. It was a shock. I started looking at the shirts. Putting the ones which had ripped (usually on the sleeve or under the arm) in one pile as these were, probably, irreclaimable (at least with my level of expertise at sewing) and the ones that missed just a button (or two or three), in another.

There were 7 shirts that were reclaimable. It was a big surprise but welcome, nonetheless.

I started. It was cold in my kitchen. I found that threading the needle, normally a process that takes about 15 minutes for me, seemed to be easier than usual. This was a good sign. I found buttons in my little ‘button store’. And, where I couldn’t find the right ones, I found them attached to the shirts, at the bottom. Or I found one that was very similar.

I progressed well, completing the first one in about half an hour. That’s how slow I am. One down and 6 more to go. After the second one, I was finding it difficult. My fingers, hardly as nimble as they were, seemed to be ‘not working’. It was far too cold. I put on some gas rings on the cooker. It would soon warm up the flat or, at least, the kitchen.

The washing machine was on. I think I was doing towels. Or jeans. Something which meant a full spin at top speed.

I did another shirt. (Exciting, isn’t it?)

I decided to have a break from sewing. I took the three shirts that I had done to hang them in the wardrobe (they were already ironed). On the way back (not that it’s a truly long distance but it’s still true since between the bedroom and the kitchen I go through every other room in the flat – apart, that is, from the bathroom – however, the bathroom is on the way back to the kitchen), I stopped off in the bathroom.

I’m standing there, having a pee (I know you may not want to know this but it is material evidence for the next bit) and I hear a sudden crash from the kitchen. The washing machine is in full spin.

There’s not a lot I can really do, standing there as I am. It’s just not possible to turn off the tap, so to speak. (See, I told you it was material to the story). I finish and walk into the kitchen.

The trays which are on top of the microwave, which is on top of the washing machine were the things that caused the ‘crash’. They have fallen onto the cooker. With them, obviously, are the things that are on the trays. Not much, normally, but F, in one of his ‘tidy up’ moods last week, had moved all the stuff that was with my computer on the kitchen table, onto the trays.

This included some paperwork, some CDs, some DVDs, some pens and some other associated ‘junk’.

You may remember (it was on a few paragraphs back) that I mentioned turning on the gas rings to heat up the kitchen a bit? Well they are gas and, therefore, flames and, sort of, flames tend to do things to pieces of paperwork, plastic CD holders, plastic trays, etc.
To pieces of paper, even bank notes, they tend to send them up in flames. To CD and DVD boxes, the tend to melt them before setting them on fire.

The kitchen was full of flames. Well, the cooker was full of flames and not all from the burners.

I don’t know what happens sometimes in times of crisis. Usually, I react quite well. Sometimes, though, my brain doesn’t seem to work. For a moment or two I blew on the flames, trying to put them out. It almost worked but for one small but very important fact. I couldn’t blow the burners out, of course, and so blowing the flame on a piece of paper out had the effect of it going out for a split second before reigniting itself from the burner.

Hmmm.

At the same time as blowing, I start to move things (well, move isn’t quite the right word – more like grab and chuck) from the cooker hob to the sink which, luckily, was full of water for washing up, the washing up being in the water and not having been done by now because I am on that long, horrible job of sewing.

I do remember thinking that this really wasn’t the best day for this (but, then, when would be?). Not only am I sewing but it is also too cold for me. And I’ve had a bad week at work.

And my tooth hurts.

Although this may seem like a long time for me to ‘do the right thing’, in reality, of course, it was seconds. Seconds before I realised that, of course, before trying to extinguish the flames I should, in all probability, turn off the hob rings.

I do. Then I am blowing and throwing stuff at the sink at the same time.

The CD/DVD cases have started sticking to the black covers over the gas rings. And sticking to each other. In that plastic burned way. They also go into the sink along with the washing up.

I’m thinking that a wet CD/DVD is invariably better than a totally warped one.

I start to clean up the cooker. I fish things out of the water. Some bits of paper have fared better than others. Some now have no writing on. It seems pointless to keep them without anything on them, their meaning lost to the water. I hang others in various places to dry.
I start separating CD cases. The CDs themselves, look OK. I will have to try them. Possibly when they are no longer wet.

The plastic box full of blank DVDs is difficult to open since bits of the plastic seems to have become welded together. I prise the lid open. The DVDs themselves, seem OK. We shall see. Again, perhaps better to check when they are dry.

I make a cup of tea. There is irrational fear in turning on one of the gas rings to boil the water. I mean – REALLY irrational. There is nothing on the microwave any more. It all went onto the rings, into flames or was melted, then the water, then the drainer for drying out or thrown away for being of no use any more.

I have tea.

I re-start my sewing.

I finish the shirts. There are a couple of pairs of jeans that also need repair. They are my favourite jeans. They need repair because I am not sticking to my wine diet very well. And, also because the jeans were always quite ‘tight’ – even before I had need of any wine diet! One of them has come apart where the buttons were. It was either that or the buttons. The sewing gave first. I sew that up. Not well but, I hope, quite ‘strongly’. The other pair were not so lucky. The second button down – since they are not really buttons but those stud buttons you get on jeans – sheared in two. I have a stud from some other pair of jeans. I fix that in and hammer it together. I hope it holds. But I guess there will be another real button put there if it comes off. I guess there’ll be a button there soon, then!

Also, maybe as a result of the need for a wine diet, some shirts have ripped at the sleeve – underneath the armpit. They cannot be repaired. But a couple of them are good shirts and I don’t want to chuck them. I decide that I could just cut the sleeves off. They would be summer shirts. I try. the result doesn’t look so bad. Maybe they will be fine? I will show F later, maybe?

It has taken me all bloody day to do the sewing. The jumpers have not been done. They will have to wait. I’m quite pleased with myself at having done all this. F and I have chatted over Facebook when I was doing the shirt buttons. I told him I hate doing it, having forgotten how he told me that for S’s first show, various family and friends were up all night doing the sewing. He says he will do it later. For one moment I think of saying ‘yes’ but then decide not to. After all, I should be able to do all this myself. Maybe next time?

We went out for a meal. F was ill. The next day he stayed in bed until about eleven o’clock. Asleep. Then he got up and went home and went to bed and slept.

Yesterday, as he was sleeping, I took the dogs out for a long walk to the park. Have I mentioned that Rufus seems to have really perked up in the last week or so? Well, he’s still quite perky. I’m very happy about it even if I was writing him off only before Christmas.

Then, last night, I went to the supermarket. I love that, now, the Esselunga in Viale Piave is not only open on Sunday but also open after 6! Actually, I think it stays open until about 9 p.m. Italy is moving into the 20th Century. Just a little behind others. In fact, apart from about 2 days in the year, it is open every day and at reasonable times.

I had a hankering for parsley sauce. And roast potatoes. And leeks. I got everything, including some cod (because F likes that). Of course, the cod was salted cod and I didn’t soak it for long enough. The rest was perfect. I must try it again – with a more soaked cod.

And F feels a bit better now and has gone to work.

But he didn’t take the dogs for a walk on Thursday and Friday of last week (because he had very long days and was going to do Pilates), nor Sunday because he was ill, nor today (nor tomorrow, nor Wednesday nor Thursday, I suspect) because he was going to Pilates again. So it only lasted last week. And only for three days. Oh well. I’m sure it’s the thought that counts.

&

And some lost comments:

  1. Gail says:

18 April, 2011 at 5:16 pm

………phew. I hung in ’til the end. phew – and that’s because I love you you old straight-gay man you!!

Love Gail
peace…..

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    • Andy says:

18 April, 2011 at 6:37 pm

Well done, Gail! Loads of love back

It’s life Jim, but hardly logical.

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When you look at it, logically, there’s nothing actually wrong.

Just like those times when I feel angry for no reason at all.

But I am really pissed off.

Except when I’m with F. For some reason, everything just lifts when I’m with him.

Take last night. After a really dreadful day, followed by a lesson and then a dreadful drive home, meaning I was later than I wanted to be, meaning that, although I really rushed a shower, I arrived at the shop later than I wanted to, once I was with F, I was relaxed and happy. For the next couple of hours, even if he wasn’t with me all the time, I was still happy and relaxed. I knew he was there. It was enough.

It was the “Aperitivo”. They were holding it because it is the Furniture Fair. It was nice. I had several glasses of prosecco. And a couple of the small finger food ‘dishes’ they were handing out. There were lots of F’s colleagues there, of course. They are always so nice to me.

One thing struck me though. F, not usually overly demonstrative towards me, completely changes when there are a lot of his colleagues around. It’s quite funny. He seems, almost, to be jealous of any attention given to me – but not jealous that I’m getting the attention and he’s not. Rather jealous in that I’m his. Phrases such as ‘keep your eyes off him, he’s mine’ tend to come out (or something similar, since it is in Italian). It does make me laugh, inwardly. Of course, part of it is for show, I know that. He is, after all, a showman. It’s what he does best. It’s why he’s good at his job.

And now, as we rapidly approach 4.15, it is the weekend. And the weather should be OK (average for this time of year) and so, I hope, F & I will spend some time together and take the dogs for a walk, etc.

These are the times that make me really happy.

a

Not a seismic shift, exactly but significant, nonetheless

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The dogs get excited as normal.

Dino starts ‘talking’. He does that now. When he wants to ‘go’ or when he thinks we are about to go – somewhere, anywhere.

The light comes through the shutters. Yes it is different this morning. I go to the bathroom and shut the door so that there is no noise to wake F up. I turn on the light and start going through the usual routines.

Except this is not usual at all. This is all different and it feels very, very strange.

I wash and shave. When I come out of the bathroom the dogs are quiet again. They know this was a false alarm. This is a different day for them too. All strange and not as it should be.

I don’t know if this will work, I think to myself.

I make my coffee and sit down in front of the computer, checking stuff and then playing the game.

I feel as if I have overslept. Well, not exactly that but similar. There’s not the rushing around of having overslept; there’s not quite the same feeling. I finish my coffee and instead of going to get ready, I just have to put my tie on and then go. The timing isn’t right – and yet it is, of course. It is just not normal. Well, it WILL be normal, just not today. It is the new normal. The normal-to-be.

I go and put my slippers in the bedroom. F is awake. I kiss him on the forehead. He says he will have a coffee before taking the dogs out. I know that they will love it. Later he tells me that it was a surprise for them. I bet it was.

And it’s a huge change for me. Getting up three quarters of an hour later seems almost relaxed, like it’s the weekend. I will still do the evenings but he will do the mornings – at least when he can or when it is not raining. This is how it will be for most of the summer.

This is more sharing of stuff. It’s probably good. I’m sure it is good.

It will take some getting used to, though. And, weirdly, I already miss my morning walk with the dogs. Especially now that it’s summer. This was the time of year when I didn’t mind the morning walks so much. But this is easier and will make me less tired all the time. At least, that is the plan …….

Me neither

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F A B U L O U S!

Well, for me, anyway.

It seems not for most. An said, last night, that she loved being able to wear sandals now. Compared to the last six years in London. Exactly!

Then she complained it was too hot.

Bah!

As I often say, it can never be too hot. Or, at least, not that I’ve ever yet experienced. She worries about the summer.

“If it’s this hot now, what will July be like?”, she queries.

In my head, I’m thinking, ‘bring it on’. But it won’t be like this. Already, from a forecast high of 28° for today (it will be hotter, I am sure), it will barely reach 21° tomorrow. It says.

I am sitting here, in T-shirt and sandals, with all the windows open and, surprisingly for Milan, a bit of a breeze. It is really, really lovely.

After my cup of tea I will go shopping (for groceries) and then, maybe, I can convince F to come to the park with me and the bambini. I hope so.

I know that those of you from the UK are also enjoying nice weather and I’m almost certain that most of you are not complaining about it.

Me neither.

Fixing the house by the sea – all for me and the bambini, it seems.

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“I’m not going to go to Vienna”, he says. “I’m going to go down and do the house”

This is, actually, quite an important statement, I think.

I mean to say, he seems to really want to make it a nice place to be. I have the feeling it was left to fend for itself in the last few years. Now he wants to put it in some sort of order.

“Then, when I am away, travelling, you can go down with the bambini on Friday night or even Saturday morning.”

It seems he really does want me to do that. What he doesn’t seem to realise is that, without him, it isn’t really going to be the same at all.

But there is a change in the way that he’s looking at things.

Don’t get me wrong. We are ‘together’ but it’s an ‘individual togetherness’. It’s not like it was before for me (and probably for him) where you planned your future together; your life together. We don’t really do the planning bit at all. We continue to be separate. Just conveniently together. I don’t know whether I like it or not. But it’s OK.

So, he intends to go down at the end of May for a week. I suggested that, as it’s a ‘long weekend’ for us (for Italy, really), I could come down with the bambini. It seems not. Apparently, it will not be of help, even if I did suggest I could do the garden. No. He wants to get the house (well, flat, really) cleaned and painted. He will get R to help. He wants it tidied up a bit. Then we can go down for the weekend. Well, the ‘we’ is without him, it seems. For me, that’s not nearly as good but, as he seems to really want this, I suppose it is good.

But, no, we can’t go down whilst he is doing this tidy up. We will be in the way. I suggested the garden thing since that is one thing I really do miss from being in the UK. It seems not. Oh well. I won’t push.

And it has to be right for our holidays since the first week we will be there. It’s nice that he wants the place to be a little spruced up for me and the dogs.

Just thought you should know.

Other things:

1. CV not finished but I needed a break.

2. Since yesterday morning there has been a real change in Rufus, for the better. He seems quite a different dog. Maybe it’s the warmer weather and, so, less of a problem with arthritis? Still, whatever it is, it’s very nice to see.