Tag Archives: Dino

A pin in the neck.

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It’s new.

Well, it’s been in my wardrobe for a few weeks, maybe months but, yesterday, as there were customers and I was wearing a suit, I wore it because I hadn’t worn it before now and it’s a nice shirt. F had got it for me so it was one of the designer ones. It was nice too, and comfortable and slightly ‘green’ so that caused me a bit of a problem since I didn’t really have a green tie. So I wore a blue and grey striped one. Of course. Especially since I was wearing a brownish suit. It all fitted together perfectly. I work on the basis that if the colours don’t match then you might as well go for contrasts. Hah!

I got up early, as is normal, since F was going out of Milan and, therefore, for him, getting up early – about 2 (nearly 3) hours later than me.

So I walked Rufus and Dino. Rufus now is so slow that it can’t really be called ‘a walk’ but more of ‘a saunter’. Hence I now get up five minutes earlier to (try to) give him enough time to pooh outside rather than inside. Not that it actually works so I don’t know why I bother. I think the only solution to that is to get up at 5 and have at least one hour’s sauntering.

So, I get home and get ready and put on my new greenish striped shirt. It’s nice. It’s been washed, obviously. And ironed (by my new super-cleaning lady).

I go to work. I am a little early since the customers want to be here earlier than I would like. It’s OK. They go away today.

We continue our meeting from the day before. There are a load of pictures they have taken and changes that they want done. To be honest, I fucking hate them and their pickiness even if, sometimes, they are right.

We move, later in the morning to the shop floor to view the part and the changes they want.

My shirt is feeling less comfortable now. It’s the collar, It’s a bit like it’s rubbing which is strange because it’s not too small with plenty of room but there is something. Of course, I don’t actually think about that too much, I just rub my finger round the collar, pulling it away from my neck.

It doesn’t make much difference. It’s not at all painful – just slightly uncomfortable.

The discussions on the shop floor continue. I wish there was a way to tell them ‘No – we’re not doing it’. I’ve been searching for that. But I know it won’t happen, really.

My shirt collar is still a pain in the neck, so to speak.

Again, I rub around the collar.

And, this time I find out why it is a pain in the neck.

It should be, quite literally, a pain in the neck since it still has one of the pins in it – the one that they put near the top button on new shirts. It is sticking out of the shirt straight into my neck. It IS a pin in the neck.

I worry about two things:

1. How can I get this out of the shirt without attracting attention and
2. Does this mean that there is blood all over the shirt.

On point 2, I can’t really do much. Point 1 has my full attention. Since, apart from potentially stopping any more of point 2, it has the added advantage of potentially making the collar less uncomfortable.

Sometimes these pins are difficult to take out having been inserted in the thick part of the area near the button.

As it is, once I have the right end of the pin (now I may have blood on my finger!), luckily, it is an easy pull and it is out.

Now I have point 3 to worry about.

Point 3. Where to put the pin.

I think about putting it in my pocket but:

a) the outside pockets of the jacket are sewn up (it helps the suit to retain it’s shape),
b) the inside pockets of the jacket are not really an option as the pin would be difficult to retrieve later and,
c) the pockets of my trousers are not really an option since the pin, sticking through my pockets and into my legs would be worse and I use those pockets to put my hands in so they might also get lacerated at some point during the day when I had forgotten about the pin I had placed in them.

I have to find a bin.

I find a bin.

I casually (when no one is looking) drop it into the bin.

My pin in the neck has gone.

Later I see there is no bloody mess on my shirt.

Today (for this was yesterday), as I write this, I keep fingering my collar as if this shirt has the same problem. Also, as I write this, I wonder how I missed it when I took the shirt out of its packaging and think that I am sure I checked. Perhaps there were two pins? Having found one and taken it out it wouldn’t have crossed my mind to look for another. I also wonder how my super-cleaning lady could have missed it when ironing the shirt!

Rufus update

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Well, I did my best.

F didn’t like my solution to stop Dino licking the lump on Rufus’ back. It was a plaster taped all round with tape. OK, it didn’t look so pretty but it was effective. But he tried to use an elastic, self-sticking bandage – wrapped all round his trunk.

As this was on his back, just behind his shoulders, it meant that it moved when he moved and so the lump was exposed and so Dino licked it. Until it bled, of course.

I tried again last night. Wrapping the bandage so that it went between his front legs. Apart from the fact that it was a tad uncomfortable for him, within an hour, it had slipped off the lump, making it a waste of time.

So, I have decided, tonight it will be a trip to the vet.

Well, maybe. First I make an excuse to go to the vets without him – just to check when they’re open. Really, of course, it’s to check if the good vet or the bad vet is there. If the good vet, I go back home and get Rufus. If the bad vet, I go tomorrow morning when, hopefully, the good vet will be on.

I am hoping that some penicillin or something will cure them – or at least help them heal. If not, I’m not sure what to do. I definitely don’t want him to try and take them away. After all, as with the one on his neck, within a few months they will be back.

On the plus side, we now seem to have the diarrhoea sorted out. Although now I do have to hold him to stop him falling back into the shit he’s just shatted. Poor thing. Still, he seems quite OK apart from the lumps constantly bleeding and not healing – if you see what I mean.

A breakthrough?

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We have made some sort of breakthrough.

It’s down to Dino, really, since he looks very cuddly.

Up until last night, the most it has been is a ‘Ciao’ or ‘Salve’ (pronounced salvey = Hi).

The other night she was in the kebab shop, just round the corner from me. She looked excited to see me and the dogs. I was a bit surprised but then an ambulance came by so I was trying to keep Dino from howling, as he does. She asked what was happening and I tried to explain. But then I realised that she wasn’t pleased to see me nor was she (probably) asking what was going on but, rather, was talking to a guy in a white Mercedes cars that are supposed to be, kind of, off-road vehicles but are used for taking the kids to school, etc. I was, frankly, a little embarrassed at having thought she was pleased to see me. After all, why would she be.

However, last night, as I’m walking up to the penultimate corner of our evening walk, she saw us coming and called to Dino. He, of course, was very excited. I told him not to jump. She asked what I was saying and I explained. We chatted for a moment or two, as you do.

I keep wanting to ask her how business is. It’s a bit cheeky but I am interested. She’s tall, with legs. Not amazingly attractive but not ugly. Kind of smartly dressed, in a tarty way. Usually something to show off her legs. Like a shop window shows off the stuff that will entice you in. Which, of course, is what the long legs are for.

And I see cars stop often – inquiring about the price I suppose.

I’ve never seen it so blatant anywhere in the UK.

But, now we’re chatting. So maybe, eventually, I will get chance to find out if business is good. I don’t know why I’m so curious to know – but I am.

As I said, it’s a breakthrough, of sorts.

Rufus

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I am a little bit worried, to be honest.

He is old now. He has lots of bumps and lumps. Unfortunately, Dino will keep licking them until they bleed – and so he is full of sticking plaster and bandages.

The problem with sticking plaster and bandages is that the lumps don’t get time to dry out and heal properly.

One, in particular, is causing me some worry. It’s just behind his ear. Last summer, Dino licked it so badly that we had to take Rufus to a vet who cut it out. The lump was checked and was not malignant.

But, within 6 months, it was back. And Dino licked again. However, then it kind of ‘burst’. The smell of the excreted puss was gaggingly awful. But, once cleaned up, it (and Rufus) seemed much better.

Except it came back again.

And Dino licked again.

And so Rufus has a bandage round his neck again.

And for the last few days, the smell is back. And I’ve tried to clean it up, but it keeps excreting ‘stuff’ and so, smelling a lot. So I have to have another go at it tonight.

Unfortunately, he also is suffering from diarrhoea …….again. He was on Dia Tabs for 4 days and now on some oral medicine but it only seems to be working a bit.

And, last night, I thought that, maybe, I should take him back to the vet later this week.

And then I thought that perhaps the vet would say that there was really nothing they could do. And then I thought that it is difficult to say whether his quality of life now is really all it’s cracked up to be. And then I worried that, if I took him to the vets and the vet said that there was nothing he could do, the vet would add that he should be put down now.

And that made me feel really bad.

And, so, I have decided that on Thursday or Friday, I will take him to the vets and, at the very least, ask him for penicillin which may cure the weeping, smelly lump and for certain WILL cure, if only for a limited time, the diarrhoea problem.

And, then, maybe we can keep him for a bit longer.

Doormats or good mates?

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V used to say that I was too nice.

What he really meant that I was a bit of a walk-over.

I always said that I preferred to be a walk-over than be someone who was always in things for what I could get from them.

But, you know, just sometimes, I wish I wasn’t like that? For I get annoyed but suffer it in almost silence.

This weekend we go away. I have arranged a ‘dog sitter’ to come and take the dogs out.

It’s not ideal as they will be on their own most of the day and all night – but there’s not much I can do about that. The dog sitter is a reliable guy. I used to see him in the park all the time, looking after someone’s dog or dogs. He got a lot of business, I could see, but he was really good with the dogs.

And then, yesterday morning, I am Skype messaging with a friend. This friend has some problems (but, then, who of my friends doesn’t?) and I have been empathetic as she will be leaving to go back to her own country soon. In fact, it was supposed to have been at the end of the summer. It’s dragging on a bit.

She has a ‘best friend’ in Milan but it seems they have fallen out. She has some stuff ‘stored’ at said ‘best friend’s’ house. She needs to get this stuff before she leaves Italy. She suggests that she come and stay at my flat (if it’s OK) whilst we are away.

If that’s OK?, she adds.

I can’t think of a really valid reason for it not to be OK.

Except that I don’t really want her there. I don’t know why, really. Is that terrible of me?

Worse still, she was suggesting that she come tonight! F isn’t terribly excited about that and nor am I.

She finishes work at 5 and will call me then. Maybe it will be too late for her to get a train? We would both prefer if she came up on Saturday morning (but early).

If she does come then at least someone will be there during the day and night for the dogs. So I need to concentrate on that.

Other than that, of course, I’m looking forward to this long weekend away with F. Just the two of us and (slightly guiltily) without the need to rush back for or get up early for the dogs.

Cornish pasties or sausages?

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It was like Cornish pasties. Or sausage rolls. They’d been overcooked. They had too much fat. You know? The ones with that fatty pastry – the sort you get from Greggs. The smell is at once disgusting and appetising – but, maybe not at half past eleven at night. Not when you didn’t cook them. Not when the smell fills your bedroom like someone had been cooking them in that room. Not when it wakes you up.

But let’s go back a bit.

F is in Germany. I took him to the airport on Monday morning. I don’t mind doing that but it does mean getting up a little earlier. Therefore, Monday, I was tired. I also had clients in at work.

After my lesson, I spoke to F by phone. Then I took the dogs out for their walk. It was 9.30. By 10, I was in bed. Since I had been so tired all day and evening, I thought sleep would come immediately. But the bastard ran away and wouldn’t come back.

Added to which, my hips hurt like hell. They normally hurt if I have been wearing particularly tight jeans. Now that I am the size of a small elephant, all my jeans are that little bit tighter.

So, what with the pain and the not wanting to sleep, I couldn’t. And my teeth hurt a bit because I have been clenching and grinding them again.

Eventually, I got up and took some nurofen. Eventually, I guess, I fell asleep.

The smell filled the bedroom. As it is, again, quite warm, all windows are open. The smell was coming from one of the other flats – also with it’s windows open. The smell seemed to get stronger. I got up. The smell was throughout the flat. I hated it. It won’t let me sleep but what can I do?

I walk around spraying airfreshner in every room. This almost masks the smell but not quite. I look out of my window – as if I can tell where the smell was coming from (which was a stupid idea); as if, having worked out where the smell was coming from, I could do anything about it (I wouldn’t).

I like living in a flat. I miss having a garden but am grateful for not having a garden and having to spend every weekend keeping it from becoming an unruly jungle. All things have good and bad points.

I hate that I am too close to people. I hate when I don’t like their cooking.

I don’t like this cooking.

I go back to bed, smelling the smell and hating it. I guess I must have dropped off to sleep again.

At 5.40 in the morning I could not smell it.

But, maybe, I was used to it?

I become more Italian; I am using all aces.

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He comes back today. Well, tonight, really. For 3 days and 2 nights. Of course, it has to be enough. Then it will be the following Saturday night before I see him.

The last I saw him was last Friday night. Well, that’s not entirely true. He flew to London early last Saturday morning. I got up with him and the dogs and I went down to Carrara.

On Tuesday night he came back from London and the flight was due to land about 11 p.m. The next morning he was flying to Spain (where he is now). I knew I would not see him for a whole 7 days since he was getting in so late and would need to do stuff before leaving in the morning. I really wanted to see him so I suggested I might come to the airport anyway.

And he almost asked me to bring the dogs. So I did. We went to the airport to meet him. I couldn’t wait inside the airport now that Rufus can’t control his bladder so well. Not only is it (slightly) embarrassing, it’s a problem to clean it up. The little sacks don’t pick up piss. For that you need mops and things and I can’t really carry those around with me, now, can I?

So I brought the dogs anyway. We drove to the airport. I found a place to park. You are supposed to pay for this (it was meter parking). It was 10.30 at night. I became very Italian. I didn’t pay. We waited outside the exit and he arrived about 11.30.

Both dogs were so excited to see him. He fussed them for a bit and then we walked to the car. I didn’t have a ticket for having not paid, reinforcing my idea of being Italian in this instance (and ensuring I am more likely to do it again, of course). Then I drove him to his home. He had suggested that we sleep over at his. I said that I would the dogs at home. He said that it would be better if I didn’t come as he had to do washing and repack and, anyway, wouldn’t get to sleep quickly. So I went to my home.

Tonight I shall go and pick him up from the airport. He has to work on Saturday morning. I have doubts that he will want to come to my home so I won’t take the dogs tonight. It gives him added incentive to come to mine. Is that wrong?

Yes, it’s wrong but don’t we all use what we can? If he doesn’t come then that’s OK. I can’t say I blame him. But, still, I want him to come to mine. Even if, as a result of the last few days, I will, almost certainly, be asleep within seconds and won’t want to be waking up at 7 or 8 when he will need to get up.

To be honest, it doesn’t really matter. Tomorrow afternoon I will see him. Tomorrow night and Sunday I will see him. It’s the best that can be done so it will have to do.

I go to the beach for a coffee

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It was all a bit unpredictable.

I didn’t get up so early and, when I did get up, I had a drink and cigarette ….. or two.

Still the day looked quite nice. I went out with the dogs, driving them to the dog walk. The sun shone and it was quite warm – almost hot in the sunshine. I took them back and, on arriving back at the house, the weather seemed a little bit more cloudy.

Still, I thought, if it changes, I can always come back.

So I drive off to the beach and park.

I arrive at the café on the beach. The café looks shut. There is a table where some women are chatting. One of them is the beach owner’s wife and another is the woman who makes the sandwiches in the little café.

I ask if the café is shut. She explains that they had to close the shutters because of the wind. Indeed, it is very windy. She asks me what I want. I ask for a cappuccino. I ask if there are any brioches. She says there aren’t. It’s OK. I sit down with my coffee at one of the tables. I take the first sip and suddenly the women get up and move to be under the umbrellas. It is raining slightly. It may not amount to much but the sky looks quite ominous. I drink my coffee quickly.

However, by the time I finish, it is raining heavily and the few people who were on the beach are packing up. I offer to pay for the coffee but she tells me not to worry.

I kick myself for not getting up earlier – getting down here for a last swim. It is, after all, probably, the last of this season – at least for me. Saturday was wonderful. Clear skies, very warm. When I left (the beach) about 5.30, it was still very warm and yet, half a day later it is as if it is autumn.

In fact, autumn has arrived. The rain, the cold – the miserableness of it all.

It’s all quite sad, really – AND F isn’t here to make me feel better. I want summer back again.

Is that it?

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Is that it?

The first day of September. Not, officially, the first day of autumn – but it might as well be. Thunderstorms and showers – oh, yes, and a bit of sun. It’s still warm though, which is nice. I mean, warm enough to still be wearing sandals and a T-shirt (although, as I write this I am not wearing those things – but I was at 6 a.m. this morning).

And I’m sure that it’s not it, really. I’m sure we shall have some really nice warm days during September and, if we’re lucky, through to October too!

I went out for a drink last night with An, F’s friend. On waking this morning I got the usual after-a-night-drinking-and-having-too-many-and-not-keeping-my-mouth-shut thoughts. I.e. I said too much about F and stuff. I shouldn’t. But it’s ages since I’ve been able to ‘chat’ with someone. Especially a woman and so I kind of ‘let go’. Damn. Oh well, I’ll get over it.

F is away. I join him tonight. Me and the dogs. The weather will be better apart from, maybe, Sunday. But it’s OK anyway.

Our July was stolen!

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It’s all gone a little awry.

Let’s be honest, June and July were, as far as the weather was concerned, a bit of a let down. Where were the 40° highs? It was, mostly, warmish but really nothing like previous years.

August started off quite mediocre and then, around the 15th it seemed that July had come, finally. Like August had nicked July.

Milan is now hot. I mean to say that this morning, at just after 7, on my drive to work, the temperatures were reading 27°. It was also about that, this morning, around 6 when I took the dogs out. The forecast I use says it will get to 33° this afternoon but I think it will be hotter.

F is not really happy about it since he’s not really into heat and, now that our holidays are over, he wants it to cool down.

The dogs aren’t really happy either but they have plenty of fresh water.

OK, so even I have to admit, lying in bed at night with sweat pouring off me isn’t the most comfortable of things. However, it’s only going to last until about Thursday, so I’m sure I’ll manage.

Oh yes, I suppose I could get some air conditioning – but it would be for about a week a year so hardly worth it and, anyway, I couldn’t use it if F were there because, like all Italians, they are susceptible to ‘air’. This can produce many illnesses which include a sore throat and, in F’s case, a bad back. I was allowed to keep the fan on last night but only with it pointing away from us. When I left this morning he said he wasn’t feeling well. I guess there’ll be no fan tonight!