Tag Archives: UK

Hugs, kisses, lies and sofas

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We hug.  I kiss her on both cheeks.

‘I hate this part’, she says.  I agree.  We hate it for the same reasons.  Being from the UK, hugging, invading one’s personal space – always difficult, always intrusive, always uncomfortable even if comforting.  ‘Let’s just get it over with’, I replied.  And that’s when we hugged.

It isn’t like we don’t want to show how much we care for each other.  We do it twice.  Once when she arrives and then before she goes through the gate.  Not in between, of course.

It’s different with a lover, naturally.  That is more intimate and, therefore, hugging and kissing is possible.  Although we care, we are not lovers and so this is all just a little hard.

‘Thanks so much for coming’, I say for the umpteenth time.  But I am really grateful even if, whilst she was here, I found myself going back into myself.  Still, the weather has cooled now and I am back at work with plenty to do so I can bounce back.

A few days earlier: V phones me.  Will I swap sofas with him?  To damned right I will!  Perfect.  Apparently, even if he has a bigger flat than me, the two-seater will fit better than the three that he has.  And I still get to keep the chair and, maybe, will get the footstool.

‘Someone offered to buy the sofa’, he said, ‘but I didn’t want to split it up’.  It was a strange comment as the suite is split up.  One part not even in Milan right now.  I don’t know what he means.  As I’ve said recently, I am failing to understand most things that people say at the moment.  I don’t ask as the answer may not be good and I don’t want him to lie nor tell the truth as neither will be suitable.

He has the keys to his new apartment and is obviously happy, I can tell by his voice.  I am happy for him.  There may be a tinge of sadness/jealousy/anger but only a tiny little bit.  I am genuinely happy for him.  I hope he can make it all work.

More recently:  I receive an email with the address.

‘I wanted you to be the first to know’, he writes.  Except I know I’m not the first.  This comes back to my previous post.  Better to say nothing than something that is not true.  Was it supposed to make me feel good?

It’s not that it really matters but there really was no need to say anything at all and less to lie.  Some may say it was a white lie, to ensure that my feelings are not hurt, as if I am the most important person in the world to him – which, quite plainly and rightly, I am not.  But, I would rather know the truth or not be told, which would be even better.

Still, we are communicating after all and I know him better than to trust the things he says.  This may not be the communication I was waiting for but it is something.

And, the sofa is welcome as it means a better place to sleep for guests (or me).  There will still be room for everything else, I just have to move one small chair.

And now to work and the other work, both of which need some of my attention.

I wonder…….?

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I’m not sure what it says about me (and I CERTAINLY don’t mean the picture which is a random one anyway) or if, indeed, this post is worth the bother of writing but, anyway, here goes….

I cannot remember when it started or, even, why but, from a very early age I had this desire to live outside the UK.

For some reason, Sweden was the place I wanted to go (and this was before Abba even sang about Waterloo, maybe, probably, before Waterloo had ever been thought of). In particular, I wanted to live in Stockholm.

For many, many years, it was understood, by me, in my inner brain, that I would, someday, be living there.

Instead, I came to Milan and never went anywhere near Sweden until after I came here. And now, finally, I have been there.

I was not disappointed. It is a beautiful place, the weather was superb; the food wonderful; the modernity, outside the old part of Stockholm, well, modern; the people were nice and friendly (although nowhere near as attractive as one would imagine – think Benny and Bjorn rather then Agnetha and Anni-Frid – all-in-all as good as one could expect.

Of course, the sunshine and warmth puts the whole thing in a good light and the reality is that, for most of the year the weather would probably be worse, or at least as bad, as the UK.

But, I wonder, how would my life be now if I had gone to that place that I dreamed of being in for so many years……?

Making a new purchase is difficult

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I’m not really what you would call “a shopper”.  In spite of V’s 20 years of trying to make me one.  And now that I don’t have him to “force” me to do so, I find that putting off making that purchase suits me just fine.

So, I really could do with some new shirts and there’s a shop just down the road with shirts for €10 so there’s no excuse, really.  But still, when I pass, which I do often, there’s always a good reason why “this moment” is not the right time.

The same is true of the table that I really want but just can’t be bothered to get in the car and drive to get, which is annoying, even to me and yet, not annoying enough that I actually do something about it.

However, if I need to shop or are in a situation where I am with others who are shopping, purchasing can be quite easy.

Food shopping I do actually enjoy.  Not going to the supermarket, exactly (but even that is quite nice if I have a recipe/meal in mind) but looking round interesting food shops (which I have been doing some of whilst abroad, recently).

And when I was getting my passport renewed, we were stuck for some hours in a town and I managed to pick up a couple of very nice T-Shirts for a very reasonable price.  For clothes shopping, the way that works is I walk into the shop, take a quick glance at the rails I can see and quickly determine if there’s likely to be any chance of finding something I will like.

I go to the rail and quickly flick through the things and only if there is something slightly unusual or interesting do I bother to even pull it out.  Then, if I can’t find my size within milliseconds I find an assistant who can do all the looking for me.

So, as you can imagine, finding something more “technical” quite fills me with dread.  Although I seriously need a new computer, I just cannot go looking.  The same with a new mobile phone.  You see, the problem is that there is too much choice and you can’t tell what you want just by “browsing” through a store.

However, I thought that getting a new vacuum cleaner would be a bit of a breeze.  Although I had put it off for about 2 months, I decided, yesterday, that I really had to do it as I cannot beat out the big rug – it’s just too big to go over the balcony and I was finding it difficult to clean.

I knew what I wanted.  A Dyson.  Now there’s a simple thing, I thought.  I go to the shop in Corso Buenos Aires that I know.  As I get to the right area I see an array of vacuum cleaners.  Not a good sign.  I find a few Dysons.  Actually, a few too many!  There’s one for allergies, one that says “Origin” (meaning original?) and a few others.  They are expensive so I briefly toy with the idea of a Hoover or similar equivalent but remember that the Dyson is definitely better.

I pick one as if sticking a pin in a map and deciding where to go.  It’s the Origin.  Not the most expensive but would seem to be the right one.

The one on display is the last one they have.  I ask for a discount.  They won’t give me enough and so I leave.  I decide to go to the other shop of theirs that is between Piazza Oberdan and Piazza Repubblica.  I can get the same one there that hasn’t been on display.

I go to the right areas for vacuums.  Here they have even more choice of Dysons!  There’s even one for Pet Hair!  Who would know that you could have a cleaner that was specifically designed to get all the pet hair up?  However, that one costs almost €200 more than the normal ones.  Although I may need it, I am not paying so much extra.  But there were at least another 4 different types!  Why?  Too much choice in this sort of thing just makes me want to walk away.

Anyway I plump for the one that I think will suit.  The girl has a good time (not) searching for one that has the correct tool for both hard floors and rugs but, eventually, finds one. I pay and catch the tram back home, grateful, in fact, that the tram stop is right outside and that I didn’t have to lug one from their other shop.

I put it together at home but didn’t actually try it as I am feeling so tired following my recent trips.

I decide to hoover up this morning.

I try to find a socket or adapter that will take the plug.  None do.  My flat is old and uses a special (old) type of socket that requires special adapters to permit normal plugs of today to fit. However, I was surprised that none of the adapters would work. Damn!

So now I will be back to the shop on Monday to find (hopefully) an adapter that works.  The cleaning will wait.

Friends come round for dinner

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Now, here’s a thing. When I first met V, he could cook Spaghetti Bolognese and that was all. Over the years he became quite proficient at cooking and we entertained quite a lot. I would always do the sweet whilst he would do most of the other things.

However, now that V is no longer there, I am back to doing my own thing.

Whilst in the UK, I bought quite a few pieces of Stilton and Cheddar. Also, from Londis in Hay-on-Wye, the best smoked bacon I have ever tasted. They cut it and vacuum pack it on the premises so it’s not like supermarket bacon which shrivels as the water content vaporises but it stays almost the same size and is really very tasty.

So, as I am determined to demonstrate to Italians that the food from the UK is not like they think, I had promised A that I would do dinner, mainly so that he could try the Stilton (with Port, of course).

Friday night was a night out with colleagues at an agriturismo called Ai Boschi in a small village called Origgio, not far from Milan. The nice thing about agriturismos is that they grow a lot of their food on the premises. I suppose they are an extension to the British ‘Farm Shop’. Agriturismos will have a restaurant and, quite often, rooms. Unfortunately, they are not all great. This one was, well, mediocre.

It meant that I did not get home until about 2 a.m. I had already said to A that dinner would be Saturday or Sunday depending on how things went (cleaning the house, etc.). As it was, I actually got up about 11.30 which was very late for me. And put me all behind.

However, I made the supreme effort to clean the house and, finally, at about 7 p.m. went shopping. I managed to make it in time to get the Port from the little off-licence near Corso Buenos Aires so called A to say we were on for the dinner.

To start, I had a baked pasta dish, given to me by G, our cook at work. Then I made a warm bacon and chicken salad – the bacon from Londis and the salad including salad cream which I had also picked up in the UK. Finally, cheese, British cheese biscuits, apples and port.

A made some big thing about me being able to cook and it made me think that V did most of it after all. A didn’t know I could cook whereas, in reality, it was me who taught V how to cook.

The meal was a great success. F really loved the bacon and the Stilton, which made me very happy. My first dinner in the flat!

Sunday I went for brunch at A&F’s. M, A’s friend was there too. As he pointed out, it was more like a wedding breakfast! Many courses and it lasted for hours.

And, the weather over the weekend was great so a good weekend all round.

Alan Bennett and other things

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I’ve only seen a couple of his plays on television, well, at least, some of his monologues. But D came over to see me and after lunch we went down to the Festival to see what was on.

After seeing Chris Patten, we went to see Alan Bennett.

He was very funny, reading some excerpts from his diary (which, I guess, is his latest publication). It’s a thing that real writers have, that I, as a blog writer, don’t. The ability to see the mudane and ordinary and, somehow make them interesting or, even, humourous. I wish…..

The weather remains warm and sunny. The new pair of sandals I bought in Goldworthy’s on Friday – to replace my favourite pair that I bought from there about 6 years ago and, eventually, this year became too difficult to wear, the insoles having become almost completely detached from the soles, the stitching being so undone in places as to mean I had to be careful putting them on in case the thread became tied up with my toes and now they could be safely called ‘Dino’s Sandals’ since I know how much he likes my old shoes – I am now wearing as I write this.

My feet feel a little cold but, when I get out in the sun, I hope they will feel OK. I know that by about 4 p.m. I should change and go back to shoes and socks – this is not Milan, after all – but at least I should try, I feel.

Looking out from Best Mate’s bedroom (The Smoking Room) window, I watched the booksellers laying out their stalls in the Butter Market over the lst couple of days. This morning was the turn of the Craft Fair stallholders. I wonder who buys all this stuff? And why?

I’ve been getting a newspaper every day since I got here. I like to be able to feel the paper as I read – it makes a change from the Internet – but I have decided that I really can’t be bothered to buy a Sunday paper this morning. I mean they are so large and, for me, so largely unread it is not only a waste of money but also paper.

And now, as I write this, I am doing coffee for Best Mate and I – and I hear the moka telling me it’s time to go……

Being back in Hay

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It’s been three years since I was last at the Hay Fetival. It’s nice to be back and it certainly helps that the weather is good. I’ve been seeing a lot of people that I know and it’s been good to chat with them over a coffee/pimms/beer/whatever.

Everyone seems genuinely pleased to see me.

Everyone seems to know about V & I splitting so there is the usual start to the conversation proper, where they are unsure as to what to say about it, but once I explain that we’re still friends and that, although I have custody of the boys, V is looking after them whilst I am here, they are much more relaxed about it.

I’ve been to one event today and will, probably, try to go to another later this afternoon, if I can drag Best Mate down there. I’ve hardly had anything to drink – just been talking, really.

Still, if Best Mate comes down, I feel a couple of beers coming on……….

Not just the British complain about the weather.

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This morning, as I drive to work, it is already 20 degrees! Over an hour earlier, before most people were even awake or, at least, before they were out and about, I was walking the dogs.

It is warm enough not to wear a coat and wear light clothes. I do not quite trust it enough to be wearing sandals but, another week of this and maybe I will.

Two weeks ago the Italians (and I) were complaining that there was too much rain and that it was far too cold. “It’s too cold for May” or “There’s too much rain”, they say (me too!).

Now the Italians (but NOT me) are complaining that it is too hot! “It’s too hot for May”, they say! I say “For me, if it were like this every day I would be very, very happy”.

The Final Conclusion or The Final Betrayal; Travelling and Quandaries; Not as Gay as I was?

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The Final Answer to The Final Question has been confirmed in the affirmative. This has made V very happy despite it being too late in certain respects.

Of course, The Final Answer is not the end of it. There will either be The Final Conclusion or The Final Betrayal. At this stage, obviously, I don’t know which. I have been promised The Final Conclusion but, if you’ve been reading this blog over the last few months, you will have some idea as to my uncertainty regarding things concerning V.

This last few weeks have been somewhat busy at work, hence my lack of posting. And, when I get home, there is, now, less time to sit at the computer and ‘mess around’ than there was.

And, it is almost certain (I shall know on Friday, definitely), I shall be going to the UK for a few days for work. Whilst I am there, I shall stay on a few days to renew my passport. It seems, from the website, that I shall be able to get it all done in 1 day (at extra cost, of course). This is slightly imperative on the basis that I shall only have one day to do it before needing to travel back to Milan! I shall let you know how it goes, for all of you ex-pats.

The alternative was a month to wait whilst it went through the consulate in Rome.

And then there will be Paris in June.

And the reason for writing this is the dogs, for I absolutely MUST do something with them and I cannot take them with me. So what to do? I can put them in kennels of course. Or I could get someone to look after them. Or I could ask V but asking V means that I have to rely on him. It’s a quandary. In addition, the day I come back will be the day that used to be our anniversary. I don’t know that I want to go and pick the dogs up on that day. However, since it is only two weeks before the first trip I do need to do something pretty sharpish.

Finally, as you will have read in an earlier post, it seems I may not be quite as gay as I thought I might be, in spite of using hand cream. And by that I mean that I lost the cream (it fell from my pocket whilst walking to the car) and I didn’t notice for two days!

To be fair, my hands, or rather, the part of my hands that were particularly bad, are much better. But there is still a stubborn area of hard skin. So I bought some new hand cream and have started using it once or twice a day. I’m not sure I can stand any more than that!

But, as soon as they are back to normal I shall stop using the stuff and be back, once more, to being the straight gay guy that I have always been. Hurrah!

Sweating (and acting) like a pig; spring, maybe?; Friday the 13th

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I’m sorry. I’m sure I do not have perfect habits (in fact, I know I have not) but, certain things I do not do in public and, certainly, not in an office I share with my colleagues.

I do not, even if I am hot and sweating, lift my arms up to smell underneath my armpits. I don’t do it once, let alone several times whilst my colleagues, even if they are at their computers and not looking at me directly, cannot help but see me out of the corner of their eyes. Nor would I exclaim at the same time that I was sweating with a slightly disgusted tone to my voice.

Having said that, the weather, today, is rather superb. There is not a cloud in the sky and it is quite warm in the sun although there is a breeze (you probably wouldn’t even notice the breeze in the UK) and the wind is cold. However, it is supposed to continue like this for a few days yet, so that is rather fantastic.

On another subject, for you lot in the UK and the USA, I guess, today is that dreaded day FRIDAY THE THIRTEENTH. Here, it has no real meaning and so, although it crosses my mind, fleetingly, it really isn’t something to worry about. Instead, here, the bad day is the 17th. Also, a black cat crossing the road in front of you is unlucky. Now, S, should any of the bad Italian things happen to her, checks with me to see if it is bad in the UK. If not (like the black cat thing) then she chooses to believe the English version. I must admit that I lied, once, to her when she broke a mirror, saying that, in the UK, it did not mean bad luck. It made her happy anyway. It seems some superstitions are the same after all.