As they say in Italy – this is a hardly work!

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Hard work!

You will probably think that I’m not keeping this blog up to date since its move.

And, in part, you’d be right – but only in part.

I’ve been meaning to do this for a long while now and, with the move and needing to check that everything is still working (links, etc.), I’ve been going through all the posts I’ve made.

There are a LOT of posts! I have been correcting links, making sure pictures work and, occasionally, deleting posts that, in my view, are a complete waste.

I’m up to March of 2009.

This is just before I moved into the perfect-flat-on-the-perfect-street. It’s trying, reading these posts. I can remember it well. What surprised me was that I hadn’t really “let you in” on all my feelings. I thought I had. At the start (which I thought was November, 2008 but was actually only just before Christmas 2008), I told you nothing of my feelings. The blog seems to be so much lighter in tone than the reality was. There’s one post, towards the end of March, 2009 when I apologise for the blog being depressing – although, now that I’m having to read every post, it doesn’t seem that depressing at all!

Still, I have 6 years worth of blog posts to go before I get up to date. OMG!

But I have some things to tell you (about recent events) so I’ll try and do a couple of posts in the next few days to keep you up to date. I can only apologise for the lack of posting right now

Discussion versus rant.

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Discussions – where two or more people talk about a subject, expressing their ideas, trading comments and come to an agreeable conclusion, or not.

Rant – where someone expresses their view again and again and, quite possibly their idea of your view without the possibility of any response and where any views held are set in stone.

“We can never discuss anything.”

I am silent. What I should have said is that this, this thing that is occurring, is absolutely, fundamentally NOT a discussion. It is, in fact, a rant. And brought on by something that eludes me and, quite possibly, for absolutely no reason at all.

Instead, I am silent. I am also shocked (although by now I should be used to it) and I am also a little pissed off.

In my head, it should have gone like this:

“I’m tired now because I’ve done lots of stuff today.”

“Yes, I understand. Why don’t you stop now and let the cleaner do it.”

“Yes, good idea.”

And that would be that.

Instead the conversation goes something like this:

“I haven’t stopped a minute.” – note: this is NEVER true – it just means that he has done lots of things. In fact, he stopped on a number of occasions and, sometimes, for half an hour or more.

“I am very tired.” – note: this is possibly true.

“Why not stop now?” – note: I also have been doing things. I am stopping, probably.

“I can’t stop because I have to finish the ironing because “the bitch” (the name given to the cleaner – in fact, the name given to all cleaners who can never do it as well as he does, of course) won’t clean properly if there is any ironing.” – note: OK, it was only a suggestion.

“You never notice but she doesn’t clean properly and she has to learn and if you’re happy to pay her so much when she doesn’t do a good job then that’s up to you and if she came in once a week then that wouldn’t be so bad and I wouldn’t expect it to be perfect (note: although, in fact, he would) but she comes in three times a week blah, blah, blah …..”

I have to admit, I’ve stopped listening now. It’s the same-old, same-old. There is nothing I can do or say that will, in any way, change anything and, especially, what he thinks.

I offer to help with some washing but get lamblasted with the “fact” that we can never have a discussion and that no, I should just go back to my computer. I’ve actually been giving a lesson but let’s not think about that for whatever I say and do it isn’t right.

As I am not permitted to help and as I can say nothing that will in any way either mollify him nor stop him, I walk out. I hear,

“Yes, that’s right. You go away.”

Yes, I know. Just because he told me to go doesn’t mean I should but, you know, fuck it. The rant had been going on for about 10 minutes – I cut it short here – and I was royally pissed off now. What I had intended was that he should take a break. That the ironing (nor the cleaning for that matter) were not so important as to make him work all day (not that he had been). But, apparently, they are. And over that, we shall never see eye-to-eye.

I write up the lesson log. This takes about half an hour. I go to the bathroom and find he’s making the bed. I pick up the bolster cover (he’s doing the other one) and go to put it on the bolster.

“No, leave it. I’ll do it.”

This wasn’t a question. I carefully fold it back and put it back where it was without saying a word. Obviously what I wanted to do was just to throw it on the bed – but that’s not me.

I go back to my studio. After a few minutes I come back to tell him I’m taking the dogs out.

Later, I ask about dinner. I suggest something and he suggests something else. I don’t really care. I choose to get the “something else” out of the freezer.

It will need defrosting. I go and have a shower. He tells me that his mum had said it doesn’t need to be defrosted. I put it in the oven. I go back to my room.

I come back half an hour later and he’s laid the table – with candles and stuff. Perhaps it’s his way of making up? I don’t know and having been really pissed off for about 4 hours now, neither do I care. He doesn’t get away with it that easily.

We eat our meal but I’m not “not talking” to him so we talk about the TV programme that’s on. I suggest ice-cream for sweet, etc. It’s OK (the meal) but it’s not really great (in terms of “us”) – and it should have been great.

And, still, as we approach lunchtime today, I am pissed off about it. I really hate his ranting. I do know how he feels about the cleaner, cleaning and the ironing – I just don’t share his views. Nor will I ever. And, what’s more he knows that. I have no problem with him cleaning all day (he has admitted a number of times that he finds it really relaxing) but I get fed-up when he complains about the fact that he’s cleaned all day. This is like me complaining that I’ve had to read books all day or watched some films all day.

But the key is that, next time, I must remember to just say: “This is in no way a discussion it is just you ranting”, and walk out.

Missed call or something else?

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In the meantime …….

I get a call.

“Hi Andy. Did you call me? Only I’ve seen there was a missed call.”

This wasn’t all one short thing but I’ve distilled it to this because that was what, supposedly, it was about. I hadn’t called. I apologised for having “inadvertently” made a call, explaining that it must have been in my pocket.

But, none of that is true.

So I wonder why the call is being made?

I ask after him and Mum. It seems she is OK but I’ll learn more when Ay is over.

I think about it but don’t ask about V. Is that bad? I don’t want to appear nosey. Nor do I want it to seem like I’m gloating. As always, I worry about how others see what I do or say.

He doesn’t mention V. Which is also strange. I mean, why not? He’s there, isn’t he?

But he seems cheerful enough. Then I think that, perhaps, he expected me to call. But, surely not? My days of being concerned about V are over. I don’t take responsibility for him any more.

But it was a strange call to make.

I’ve double checked as I was writing this post and no, I didn’t make any call to his number since before February! So it does seem really strange.

Maybe V got him to phone just to see what I would say? Well I said nothing.

I’m glad that he and Mum are OK though. And it’s nice to hear his voice, even if he’s not my real dad.

And ………… I’m back!

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Well, I’m back and it didn’t seem to take that long.

There is one post that I wrote which is the one before this. And another that, unfortunately, got lost in the “move” although I will try to remember what I had written.

So welcome to Thesmediolanumlif – This Milan Life. New name but, sadly or happily, it’ll be full of the same old crap as it always was.

I’m now going to spend a little time tidying things up, deleting some of the old posts that didn’t have anything to say and changing things a bit. So, bear with me.

But, at least I’m back :-D

Is there no escape?

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I had a post from someone on Facebook.

In fact, this woman isn’t the sharpest knife in the box so, in fact, I had the same post about 6 times in about 6 seconds!

“Could you call me Please xx”

She remains a Facebook friend for reasons that are unfathomable, even to me. I was never really her friend. Nor that of her husband. These were colleagues of V’s. They also thought that he was a friend of theirs which I knew was really false but it’s not for me to tell other people what they should think. Anyway, I’ve found that people don’t really understand (him or the way he works).

Just like when I told my friends that my father was a real bastard. They used to think he was so charming.

And, now, at this moment, I wonder if that’s why I was with V for so long? They both hid their real personalities so very well. Except that I know my father was a real bastard whereas V is a nice guy really – you just mustn’t take anything he says too seriously for it may or may not have elements of truth in it.

Anyway, immediately my heart sank. Usually, she is drunk when she talks to me. Or seems drunk. I’ve seen her drunk a few times. And she gets quite maudlin when she’s drunk. And goes on and on.
Before I had time to react (apart from the sinking heart) she was phoning me.

I debated whether to answer or not but decided to anyway. I knew what this conversation was going to be about. V is set to haunt me even if he has left the country.

There was a cursory “How are you?” followed by a quick, “I hope you don’t mind me phoning.”

Let’s get on with it – I thought. And she did.

“Do you know where V is?” she asks me. Is she drunk? I can’t quite tell. But I know she has a serious problem with alcohol.

“Yes,” I reply. I mean, why wouldn’t I tell the truth? I then think that perhaps I should not have said this. I think about the fact that she might ask for contact details. But I decide that I’m not giving contact details to anyone. It’s not my business and I refuse to get drawn in ………..

Except that, by saying I know where he is, already draws me in, doesn’t it?

Oh, well.

She asks me where he is and I tell her (in general terms).

She calls him a bastard and I understand why she would. V was always borrowing money from her husband (who had/will have plenty of money because his parents are very, very rich.) I would have put money on it that he owed M some money, if you see what I mean. And I would have won that bet, it seems.

Then she told me other things. I was right about the money – €3K. Plus, he had taken advance payment from a private student which, quite obviously, he will never be able to do lessons for – unless they travel to the UK. Also, she is worried about the fact that she recommended him for the “school” in which she teaches and for which, until 3 weeks ago, V also taught. It’s a big thing here, if you recommend someone for a job. It’s a big minus against you if they “fuck up”. And, of course, V had not given any notice so the first the school knew was when he didn’t turn up for his lesson (on the Monday, I guess.)

“And what about his flat?” she asks.

I explain that he appears to have abandoned everything – flat, job, life and, most importantly, debt and “done a runner.”

I give her a brief summary of what happened. Leaving out certain details – like the fact that I had bought some things from him and had seen him a few times, etc., etc.

She informs me that, unbeknown to me, a lot of things in the flat are actually theirs (or rather her husband’s) in that they bought him the fridge (and, I guess, the kitchen, the TV system, etc., etc.) – all things that he implied to me that either he had bought or had been donated by his then-boyfriend.
Seems it ain’t so (but I am shocked that I am even really surprised – and in a way, I’m not!)

I did say that there were also a lot of things of mine in there (in that I had bought and paid for almost everything he took/I gave him when we split) that I couldn’t get. I added that, as far as I was concerned, I had already let go of the stuff over 5 years ago and so there was no point worrying about it. I didn’t add that I had paid for some things and got them before he left.

She said that her husband had said the same thing. She said that they had even paid his electricity bill (but obviously not the most recent bills?) She said that she met him for lunch in January which he said he would pay for but then his card “didn’t work” and so she paid. Even she realized that, with V, that was the way it was.

She had been trying to phone him for the last 3 weeks or more but he didn’t answer and now the result was that the “person you’re phoning isn’t available”. She called him a bastard again. I suppose she had justification but, despite myself, I felt a little sorry for him. After all, he was always like this. I caught myself thinking that it was their fault, really. They are adults and should have really known better.

But, like my father, he oozes charm and fun and, yes, love, when he wants to (well, a kind of love). He hides his true self and, it seems, got much better after we split. Or, perhaps, he had been honing those skills whilst with me. Maybe I was good to practice on.

And, yet, I “gave” money to him in the final weeks – although I’m grateful I got what I did.
I tell her that I think it’s unlikely that she will ever see the money, things or, in fact, V again. She agrees.

She then wants to agree to meet up for an aperitivo. I agree, though my heart isn’t in it. They aren’t really “my sort of people” and he is incredibly boring, whilst she is a drunk. And also a bit boring. And also she keeps calling everyone “lovey” which I truly hate. I explain how lovely that would be but to bear in mind that I am very, very busy right now with hardly an evening free – which is also true.
We don’t set a date but she says “Keep in touch.”

We finish the call. I feel uncomfortable again. It’s not as if I want or need to protect him in any way. But, still, it’s only a matter of time before someone asks me to give them contact details. Which I won’t. But, still, refusal is not really good. It won’t make me happy but it will be necessary.
I suppose I should be grateful that I got lumbered with so little by his leaving so abruptly and, certainly, without him “owing” me so much. I do feel a bit sorry for his “victims” but, once again, they are adults and such is life.

I’m also quite grateful that I have stifled the urge to find out more from his family. I’ll get to know soon enough but I don’t want to pry. And, yet, I really want to know – but this feeling will pass. Anyway, some things are better not known, I think. Particularly when it comes to V.

Some things never change

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This is a story about Barry and William.

Barry and William had been together for quite a few years and then split up after moving abroad. Barry found a new guy and moved in with him.

But Barry never forgot William and, after some time, they got back together again. They decided to give it a go again and had rented a flat and had almost got it completely furnished to move into. The flat was looking great and it seemed as if, this time, it was going to be perfect. They had decided to go to an event in London. Barry bought plane tickets and booked the hotel and so on. They were going to leave on Monday.

*The thing is, I know something Barry doesn’t know! I am watching this, as if from the ceiling.*

So, it’s the weekend and Barry discovers, the night before the flight that William has decided to go back to the UK to live.

*This is the thing I already knew*

“But, you always knew I wanted to go back,” William said.
“Yes, I knew that you wanted to but why do all this – get this flat, furnish it, pretend that everything was OK when, obviously, nothing is as it seems?” complained Barry.
“Because I didn’t want to hurt you,” exclaimed William.

“So, when do you intend to go?” asked Barry.
“My flight is tomorrow morning.”
“What the fuck? But our flight to London is tomorrow afternoon. Why didn’t you tell me?” Barry is angry. William starts crying.
“You let me book everything and in the meantime you’ve made other plans and I’ve just wasted all this fucking money and all this ….. this pretence of being together is just that ….. pretence!”

And, of course, worse than that, William is just walking away, leaving him with all the shit to clear up which will be difficult, a pain in the arse and expensive. Barry wonders what he’s done to deserve this. This is not the first time William has left him to pick up the pieces but this time it’s going to be so difficult.

Barry’s life has just gone down the pan. Cut to the other flat with the other guy. They are in the flat they had together.

“… and now we might lose this flat,” Barry is continuing his conversation, “and we’ll have nowhere to live.”
“But I’ve already given notice on this flat,” says the guy.
And looking around, Barry can see that the flat is empty and everything is already too late.

And he is filled with a sense of panic as he, once again, has to start from nothing. The panic rises. His heart is thumping.

I wake up.
That was about the third nightmare last night. Of course, the people weren’t the people as I have named and, in any case, the situation would/could/shall never happen (again).

But, just for a moment, it seemed real enough.

Nina Forever – a fucked up fairy tale

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So, as you may know, I’m just a little keen on Kickstarter.

The latest thing to be released, that I helped to fund, is Nina Forever.

I helped to fund about 1 second of the film. Doesn’t sound much, does it? But it’s something and the resulting film, going by the trailer, looks really excellent.

It’s just been showing at SXSW in Austin, Texas.

One hopes it will be released and available very soon and I, for one, am very excited about getting to see it, I hope, very soon.

Very, very, VERY excited :-)

And, here is the trailer. I hope you like it.

The weekend in which I don’t, exactly, get a cold.

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I’ve woken up with a bit of a sore throat and a little blocked. It could be the start of a cold. But it isn’t.

Instead, it’s because yesterday I was cold for most of the day.

After all, there are wonderful things to say about F being back home.

On the other hand ……..

Saturday was the moving of furniture. That is, the moving of the “new” cocktail cabinet from the place we both thought it would look good (but, in reality, didn’t) to the place in the entrance hall where the bread prover stood. The bread prover was moved to the kitchen, giving us extra space to put things.

Obviously, moving everything out of the bread prover, then moving the bread prover, then the cocktail cabinet, then putting things away takes time. A lot of time. Especially when it’s F who’s putting things away.

And then, just when I thought it was nearly over, F had other ideas. Whilst we were moving things around, he decided to “do the kitchen”. This means taking everything out, cleaning the cupboards and putting everything back except, this time, in a way that he wanted. I’m sure I won’t be able to find things but that’s OK.

So, that was Saturday.

Sunday, on the other hand was a) the first day of spring and b) a lot colder because it was raining first thing and cloudy and damp all day. But Sunday was the day for a “general clean”. And, general clean he did. But, while he’s cleaning all the windows have to be open, everything has to be aired. And, it’s cold. And, damp.

And, so I was cold, all day.

The flat is truly spick and span and gleaming like you wouldn’t believe. Which is lovely and I really do appreciate the work he has done.

But, this morning, I have this sore throat and blocked nose and feel a little bit shitty.

Next weekend he will probably be away and there’s a silent little cheer in my head although, quite obviously, I will miss him like hell. Still, I will be able to relax and keep the flat warmer.