Although it is officially only just spring, it’s rather nice weather. Later in April, say, this would be normal weather. At this time in March, it’s less usual. It is warm and sunny and has been, now, for several days.
So the walks to the park in the last couple of days have been rather pleasant.
Dino gets lots of exercise (I take a ball) and, so, is exhausted by the time we get back.
Yesterday was a bit different in that A came with us and we went for a beer afterwards.
All in all, lovely.
Of course, it could just be me but he does seem different.
A bit quieter. I mean to say, he still has his mad moments, still plays with the toys (always picking out the newest toys – carefully selecting them from the huge basket that, since F has been with us, is almost overflowing – and by ‘selecting’, he really does choose which one, taking a few moments to pick out one of the latest even if they are not on the top), still getting overexcited when F walks through the door, etc., etc.
But definitely a bit quieter. We were at the cafe this morning for breakfast. F had taken him for his morning walk and we met up there. Sure, he was pleased to see me but sat once I had sat. Watched for F as he went in to get breakfast and then remained sitting whilst we ate and drank.
Other dogs now are not necessarily so interesting unless they are female in which case his nose is often pressed right on their behind so that they look like two dogs joined together. Not all females. Just some. A suggests that this is because he is an Italian dog. I think it’s because he is a dog. But I can’t argue with A because that would just annoy me since logic is not his forte, even if he is an engineer – at least when it comes to things Italian.
No, it’s as if he is all grown up.
For me it’s not only his age but also because, now that Rufus has gone, he is not the little puppy anymore.
Or maybe it’s both.
But he has turned out, as I predicted, to be the best dog I’ve ever had. Not quite perfectly behaved all the time but, dammit, near enough and the only things he does wrong now (like his tendency to jump up) are because F encourages him to do it.
Yep, he is all growed up now.
So, at the party, V and I talked and laughed and, generally had a nice time.
It was a little like old times. I was my usual sarcastic self and I made him laugh. He was his usual self and made me laugh. I remembered how much fun he was to be with, even if I didn’t feel the need to stay by his side as I had done in the past.
We talked about many things and it was fun. It was like the old days without the horribleness that came in the last few years. But, then, we weren’t going home together, so maybe that was the reason.
I talked about F and told some funny stories. He told me that he had defriended me on FB because he was concerned that I would be upset by his getting married. I said that I wasn’t upset at all and I really wanted him to be happy (which is all true).
But it was afterwards – and I don’t mean after the party, I mean a few days afterwards – when I realised that, whilst I had said some things about F he had, basically, said nothing about B (his partner).
Now, isn’t that a strange thing?
I had a sudden thought, in the car, on the way to the airport.
What if V were on the plane? For some reason this possibility hadn’t even crossed my mind until that moment and for some other reason, it made me feel uncomfortable.
There were three things about this party:
1. Ay
It was her 21st. From a beautiful baby to a beautiful woman. How time flies. My meories of her are precious.
2. The Family.
They were my family for over 20 years. They still are my family. I still feel at home with them which, I thought, was strange, since I had believed it was because of V. It seems not.
3. V.
Of course, this was my biggest ‘concern’ And, so, on to the party ……..
I got to the hotel and watched some TV (see earlier post) and then decided to go down for a cigarette. There had been dire warnings about how cold it was in the UK, so I dressed up – hat, coat, scarf, gloves, etc.
In reality, it wasn’t that bad and I felt almost foolish being so well guarded against the non-existent cold.
So, I’m there, outside the hotel, having a cigarette and wishing I was home. I phone C to ask what time it will finish as I need to phone a taxi.
“Probably about 4″, she states. OK, I know it’s a family whose roots are Jamaican and, therefore, should have known – but, really, FOUR!?!
She tells me there is someone who wants to talk to me. She passes me to V. He seems quite pleasant. I tell him I will be there later.
I’ve brought a suit. I nearly changed my mind but, in the end, thought it would be better. I go up to take a bath but, whilst it is running, I see the water is yellow and full of black bits. I decide to have a shower.
It’s after the shower that I realise I didn’t bring my brush. Nor even a comb. Bugger!
I use the only thing I have which is a nail brush. It’s not good but it’s all I’ve got. Luckily the room has a hairdryer so that’s something. The result I’m not happy with but there’s nothing I can do about it.
I get ready and go. I could be a bit early but better early than late. I go to the taxi rank at the airport. I get in a taxi and we’re there about 10 minutes early.
I go to the door. Outside are some people I recognise in some way. I guess they’re V’s brother’s oldest children who are in their 20’s. They recognise me more than I them. I certainly couldn’t put names to them – well, I couldn’t at that moment.
One of them goes in to say I am here. C comes out and goes a bit wild. There’s lots of hugging and kissing and stuff. V stands in the doorway. We say ‘Hi’.
We go inside into the entrance porch. There is of course the ‘How are you?’s; the ‘You’re looking well’s, etc. V’s Mum and Dad are there. I was pleased that his Dad looked really fit and well – it meant that I could honestly be delighted to see him and shock was not obvious on my face, even if I had expected to see him thinner and ‘shrunken’, because the only shock was how well he looked.
It was wonderful to see them. Ay wasn’t there but ‘getting ready at home’. Obviously, she wanted to ‘make an entrance’.
V was going to pick her up in the car. He suggested that I come too.
V looked good. Almost like his old self and certainly much, much better than last time I saw him. He didn’t look so old either. We talked a lot. It was almost as if nothing had ever happened. He was (as he was before) fun to be with. I enjoyed our time together.
Of course, the difference was that I didn’t worry about what he said. I mean, it didn’t matter if it was bullshit or not. It isn’t like it matters to me – I mean to say, it doesn’t have any effect on my life, my day-to-day living, not like before. So he could be whomever he wanted and I didn’t know, nor need to know, anything beyond the shallow front. And that was good.
Even P, his other sister, was nice to me!
He told me that everyone had been talking about me coming. That it was really important to them. It doesn’t matter if it’s true or not, it was nice to think they might have been.
But I didn’t scratch too deep. I’m not good with the sight of blood and what purpose would it serve anyway?
Ay looked fabulous. And, of course, to me, not 21. She looked like a little, sweet girl. But I love her still, even if she’s only my ‘niece’ by virtue of the relationship I had with V.
And I do miss the food – rice and peas, chicken, etc. It was really lovely to have some again.
And I do miss them all, even V. They make me feel warm and comfortable and, well, like being in a family.
So, the party was fine and V was very nice and everyone was very nice and Ay looked so beautiful and I cannot express how I feel now she’s turned 21.
And I got a little drunk and got a taxi back about 2 or 2.30 but that was OK.
from Joan, of course 
(Joan Armatrading performs Love and Affections at Abbey Road Studios)
Happy Valentine’s Day to you all.
I admit to being a little apprehensive.
Amongst other reasons it’s the flying. I mean I love to fly – I just don’t like all the security and time-wasting crap that goes on, as I have mentioned before. It makes me anxious. Really it’s about the most horrible people doing all this. I mean to say, sometimes they are nice but often they are not nice and sometimes downright rude.
Then there is the going to the UK. I find myself disappointed, usually, these days. Disappointed with the people, the weather, the food, even the coffee. Of course, it’s not ‘home’ any more, which, for certain is part of it.
Then there is the meeting with people who I haven’t seen for at least four years – some even more than that. It’s not that being with them again is the problem it’s the different circumstances. I relied on V to remind me who all these people were. This time, I will have to rely on my own memory.
Not for all of the people, of course.
Then there is the ‘what to say’ thing.
Indeed, what to say?
I will be asked how I am. For some, it won’t be enough for me to say ‘Fine, thanks’. But, how far to go? I don’t know that they want to hear ‘Fantastic! Never been better’, or some such thing. But it will be difficult to keep it in check.
And, then, of course, there is V. Since I have no idea (well, very little) on the reality of his situation, I guess that much of what he will say will be bullshit. And, even if it weren’t to be bullshit, I would think it were so, which is a great shame.
Still, there is the slight concern that he will want to get back together again. And I don’t want to be cruel or hurtful but, quite obviously, there would be no chance of that, even if I weren’t with F now.
So, although I am looking forward to the party, I am very much looking forward to Saturday evening, when I will be back home and it will all be over and all the things that have worried me will be in the past.
Yes, I am a little anxious. But I guess it will all be OK really.
Last night I went out for an aperitivo, to celebrate FfI’s birthday.
She chose to have it at the Armani Hotel, near the centre of Milan.
They’ve taken months and months building this hotel on top of their superstore (although I understand the correct term is now ‘flagship’ store).
It’s plush, of course. And chic, I suppose. And, I expect, expensive.
We are in the bar. Or, maybe it’s the lounge. It has a ‘smoking room’ – which is, actually, a smoking corridor. Still, smoking permitted nonetheless.
Everything is creamy leather. The ceiling is several stories above me. The huge windows have, as their background, the Duomo – all lit up and looking beautiful. It seems like a posh-hotel bar and could, in fact, be anywhere in the world.
I was the first to arrive (after FfI). We sat and chatted. Eventually, just as I was getting a bit fed up with waiting for something to drink and thinking of going to the bar, someone came to take my order. I ordered. There were about 4 serving staff who were anything but rushed off their feet. And one barman, who seemed busy.
After about 20 minutes, FfI’s boyfriend arrived with his son and girlfriend. Then some friends. More drinks were ordered. I was still waiting for my drink.
Then FfI’s daughter arrived with her friend. The drinks arrived. I’d been waiting for about 40 minutes.
Nibbles had been served on several occasions whilst awaiting drinks. They were OK. All nouvelle cuisine and no substance, really.
To be honest, however much it cost, it was a waste of money. Appearance is everything at these places. Poor service is tolerated because, let’s be frank, you’re not really there for the drinks but rather to be seen.
Go, if you’re a fan of Armani. Go somewhere else if you want an enjoyable time and getting your order within about 20 minutes. In fact, go anywhere else.
Did I tell you that he’d as good as moved in?
Except, it’s not that much different really.
A colleague/friend, who is here for temporary work, has his flat. He goes there to shower sometimes and also to take clean clothes and do washing and stuff. He arrives at my place, more or less, at the usual time. He is covering for another colleague so is working more (including some Saturdays and every Sunday) and, so, it is the same.
Of course, now that Rufus is no longer with us, we could, in theory, spend more time at his place. At least until the puppy arrives. I wonder if we will, when the colleague/friend leaves in the middle of February?
Someone asked me the other day, “When will you guys move in together?”.
As I explained, it really is up to him. A friend of his is moving out of her flat. It is a nice flat and would be big enough for the four of us. The other night when we were out with An, she was talking about, maybe, sharing a flat with someone. It moved to how difficult sharing was – you have to really gel with the person to be able to do this – unless you are a couple, when it is a different thing.
He then mentioned the flat of his friend. He likes the flat, as do I. He said that he could fit all his CDs in the hallway – which he could.
I pointed out that the only problem was the bathroom – which is very small, has no bath (which he likes to use) and has no window.
But it would be big enough for us to spread out a bit. We could safely be in different parts of the house and not even hear each other.
Sometimes, I wonder how long it will be before we move in together. Mostly I don’t, as we already do, our separate rooms are just a few street apart, that’s all 
You’ve probably gathered from my posts that this year, this Christmas, is very different from the others. Among other things, although I will be doing some shopping on Christmas Eve, I have already done quite a bit.
Apart from the fact that I’ve certainly got the ‘Christmas spirit’, F has definitely got it. And that is making this period even better for me.
“I need candlesticks”, he said a few days ago.
“I have some”, I replied.
“No, not those. I need some short ones. And some candles”
I didn’t argue even if I have candles too. When he has an idea about how he wants something to be, it’s best to let him get on with it.
And so, last night, he came with bags. Bags of candlesticks and candles. Apparently, there will be a LOT of candles at Christmas.
We start with candlesticks. He showed me. It was a simple, couple-of-inches, glass candlestick. I liked it.
“I’ve got six of these”, he adds. And a ton of candles.
I’m not entirely sure of his idea but I think all six will be used.
And, he informed me, he had invited a couple round for New Year. And we invited another couple a couple of days ago. If everyone comes, it will be quite busy but neither of us expect that.
But, at least we’ll have candles everywhere!
“Did you like the thing on the table in the lounge?”; he grins as he asks this of me.
“What thing?”, I ask back. Of course, I knew he had been there, dropping off some jars of antipasto stuff for Christmas day lunch. But they had been in the kitchen. Although I had put some washing out to dry in the lounge I had, as normal, failed to look at anything. I am a man. It’s not an excuse – just a fact.
He is obviously excited about it. In fact, he seems very excited about Christmas all round. Which is lovely.
I go back home and look on the table. There is a festive table centrepiece. All green and gold and red. I tell him it is lovely – which it is – but more for the fact that he is making such an effort with everything this year. Not that it is really effort – at least, I think he’s doing it because he’s really looking forward to it.
The previous morning, we had gone for breakfast and, on the way back, we popped into the Chinese shop round the corner from me. He had decided that he didn’t like the lights round the doorways in the lounge. They were not the right shade of white. He bought two more sets of lights that were the right shade of white.
In the evening we went to Baia Chia – the Sardinian restaurant. A colleague (of mine from 18 years ago, he said – and it was probably true) and his wife (whom I had never met) are over in Milan and we had agreed to go out. Also, Stef was over from the US. An also joined us and so we were six.
We had a fabulous meal. I miss Stef and Nicole quite a lot so it was particularly good to see him. He has gone very American though and all the good work I had put into teaching him British English has been for nothing. Obviously, it’s OK but it was funny to hear him speak with an American accent and use words live ‘beverages’ when he meant ‘drinks’.
We also had a lot to drink. Indeed, between the six of us we must have had the best part of two bottles of Mirto after all the wine! F was a little drunk. When we arrived home, he started trying to put up the new lights. I told him not to do it because he was drunk. He did one but left the other until the morning, thank goodness.
And now the flat is nearly ready. The only room which has not had the full ‘spring clean’ is the bedroom – to be done on Christmas Eve.
And, unusually for me, I did some Christmas shopping on Sunday! This just shows how much I am into the Christmas spirit this year. This could be the very best Christmas ever