Tag Archives: Drink

Ristorante Leon d’Oro

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As you may know, if you’ve been reading this blog for a while, I really like the Imperiale – a Chinese restaurant around the corner from my place (link on the side).  It is the only Chinese that makes Chinese food more or less the same as the UK and, in particular, it does Peking Duck (you know, rolled in pancakes with plum sauce and stuff).

I have been there a lot.  Run by a husband and wife team, the husband was always experimenting with dishes, trying a mix of Japanese, Chinese and Thai ingredients and, every time we went, would encourage us to try the dish that he had made that day.  He had talked often about his wish to open up another restaurant to make only these type of ‘fusion’ dishes.

Finally, he did.  The restaurant near to Piazza Repubblica (Via Adda, 3) is called Ristorante Leon d’Oro.  We were there on Friday night with S&N.

The place is cool; the décor with all the stone, black and soft lighting, reminding one more of a trendy discotheque than a restaurant.  I booked and as soon as I gave my name he asked ‘Is that Andy from the Imperiale?’  He was then going to give us one of the ‘smoking’ rooms but I declined as the other two of our party were non-smokers.

We got there and he recognised us (well, some of us) from the Imperiale.  We looked through the menu, unsure of what to try.  He had Asian Fusion as well as straight Chinese, Japanese and Thai selections on the menu.  He took our order but since we were unsure of what to have he suggested stuff.

And the stuff was quite delicious.  I cannot remember everything but there was soft-shelled crab in a kind of Japanese sushi style, little rolls of rice surrounding the pieces of crab; fried prawn on a stick of sugar cane; a kind of tempura of vegetables but smaller than normal tempura; a carpaccio of raw fish.

For the mains, N & I chose the Peking Duck because, well, we knew it would be the same as the Imperiale and it is impossible to resist although we promised to be more adventurous next time.  F had a parcel of orata, steamed with vegetables wrapped in a banana leaf (or something like that) which was truly divine.

I’d give a miss on the sweets though.  Asian sweets are never truly inspiring, in my opinion, with the exception of Thai rice pudding, done with coconut milk.  In this case I had crepes which were far too heavy.  S had strawberry fritters (like caramelised banana fritters but with large strawberries).  Nice idea but still too heavy.

And we had some digestivi – grappa.  We had a bottle of prosecco and then a few beers.  The total was €30 per head which, I felt, was not unreasonable.

A great alternative to the Imperiale and superb décor and surroundings.  There are three distinct smoking rooms, each self contained and really nice.  Special ventilation in each means that the smoking would not have been a problem but I wasn’t to know.

The only problem with it is that, whereas the Imperiale is a five minute walk from my house, the Leon d’Ora is about 20 minutes (foot and train) or about 10 minutes by taxi.  However, well worth a visit and the food is to die for!

Saturday night we also went to Le Vent Du Nord again.  This time F and I with A & Fr.  What a great place it is.  The beer divine and the moules just incredible.  Fr, who normally doesn’t eat moules, really enjoyed them although the guafre (a little like an American waffle) was her favourite, I think.

Le Vent Du Nord; New Year’s Food Feast

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Last night, F, along with Al (of the R&Al fame) and another friend went to see Loretta Goggi. As she does a bit of singing but also a bit of comedy, etc. F said that, maybe I shouldn’t go as it would be too difficult for me. In this case, I agreed with him. I mean, if it were just music or if it were a film (with a plot) then that’s one thing – a stand-up/cabaret act is another thing entirely and I didn’t want to spoil his enjoyment by being there and him feeling he had to explain everything.

And so, as this had been arranged some time ago, R suggested we go out for dinner whilst they were at the show.

The other friend’s girlfriend, Ale was with us too. She is really nice and I like her a lot. We had quite a lot in common – mainly food-wise.

Anyway, on to the restaurant, which is why I’m posting this post. It’s called Le Vent Du Nord and is, apparently, Belgian. One good thing about Belgian places is the beer – and that was certainly true of this place. The one I chose was superb. Belgian beer has a particular taste, very malty, and I like it a lot.

But this place is one of the places to go for mussels (moules). I chose Moules Marinieres and it was, quite honestly, fabulous! Cooked to perfection and so tasty. Ale chose some other version. After we had finished, we both wanted a little more and so were going to get one between us – unfortunately, it was their last night before closing for a week and so they had no more left. Whilst we understood, we were, to say the least, a little disappointed.

Apart from the food and drink the evening was really nice.

And, I think, Ale and I could be firm friends.

If you like mussels (they do other things too, including meat) and Belgian beer then this is, certainly, a place to go in Milan, even if it is a little bit of a trek from the centre itself. In the end a couple of beers each, the moules, a sweet and, for two of us, a digestivo only cost 25€ per head – great value, I think you would agree.

The service was excellent. All-round, a great restaurant.

R dropped me home and I did the dogs. F rang after he had come out of the show and picked me up in a taxi and we spent the night at his place as he is working as I write.

Tonight we are just us, here, at my flat, being a little Italian with a little left-over shepherd’s pie (obviously NOT Italian) and zampone with lentils which I adore. Always eaten at New Year as the lentils mean wealth. Zampone is pigs trotter filled with some sort of meat stuffing – a little like a large sausage but more glutinous. It would never sell in the UK but you should try it if you get the chance as it really is scrumptious!

And, on that note, I wish all my readers a very, very Happy New Year.

Tuscan and Chinese eating

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What I didn’t mention was the restaurants over the first couple of nights this week.  And I should.  And so:

Monday night we tried to go the Mexican but it was closed.  So I told them there was the new Milanese restaurant in the parallel street that did great food (even if the service could have been better).  Unfortunately, Monday is obviously not a good day for restaurants as that was closed too.

However, next door was a smallish Tuscan restaurant.  FfI’s sort-of-boyfriend, O suggested we go there and I was quite up for it.

Trattoria della Zia (Aunt’s Trattoria) was fairly nondescript from the outside.  It looked like it had been there for a while.  We went in anyway.  Really we had a main course only (although we did share a portion of Crostini as an antipasto).  It was Fiorentina which, if it is good meat, is truly fabulous although, to be honest, the best one I had was in Florence about 12 years ago.

However, this one was, probably, the best one that I have had in Milan.  The meat was perfectly cooked and with very little sinew which, considering it is blue, is kind of important.  We had some potatoes (a kind of roast potato) and some grilled vegetables and some white beans.

Truly delicious.  Afterwards we had some Mirto and O suggested I try Chino Martini, which I did and had a couple of glasses of those.  Hence my post about the note to myself.

The night before last was with V and we ended up at the Chinese – Imperiale, on via Plinio….again.

Nice, as usual.  It had been some time since V had been there now that he lives across town.  And I only stuck to one Sambuca afterwards – essential for a clear head in the morning!

But, for me, so far, the Trattoria della Zia is the best Tuscan restaurant I’ve been to in Milan, certainly for the Fiorentina steak anyway.

Last night, we made a start

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There was, of course, the trip to Ikea and other ‘out of town’ stores for looking at furniture.  Mainly for his new flat but also a wardrobe for mine.

He had the car from work.  He wanted to be there for about 9.30 a.m.  We stayed at his place.  I woke at about 7.30 first but dozed until it got to about 8 or 8.30.  I would have preferred to sleep in and, in fact, he said at one point, that, perhaps, we should go tomorrow.  I replied that if we didn’t do it today we might miss tomorrow and then, next Saturday, he would still be in Germany and really we should get up.  Even if I didn’t want that.

We got up, had coffee and then went to do the dogs.  Once the dogs had been walked, he drove to the first store.

Now, I should remind you that he is not so tall, slightly built and so very sweet, never really getting angry.  Well, that’s not quite true but almost.  He does have very strong opinions about certain things.  Take the Chinese family living next door to him.  He has threatened to kill them several times now.  Last night, with the children screaming and crying and much shouting going on, he finally snapped and went to get a shoe to bang on the wall.  It had the desired effect.

However, generally he is sweet and without real anger.  Until Saturday morning, however.

I have driven with Italians before.  Italians drive in a particular way.  Cutting each other up; Signalling left when they subsequently go right; Stopping suddenly to ‘park’ (we would say double park); Pulling out from a side road in front of you, etc.  It means you really have to pay attention to the traffic and expect the unexpected.  I do use my horn more often than I would in the UK but that’s because it is really one of the only ways you will survive here.

However, generally, I don’t swear and shout at other drivers.  Why would I? What’s the point?  It’s not like they can hear you and it’s not like it would change their driving habits either.  So I remain quite calm.

Other Italians, when I’m in the car, do tend to be more demonstrative when they are driving, both verbally and physically.  However, Saturday was a little different.  F became a different person from the one I knew.  It didn’t scare me or anything like that and he is quite a good driver but, in the half hour or so it took us to get to the first store, I probably heard all the Italian swearwords (and, in fact, a few more that I didn’t know before) and more than once.

As I pointed out to him, it’s a bloody good thing that our first ‘date’ wasn’t him driving me somewhere otherwise I would have thought him a very aggressive and uncontrollable animal.

As it was, because I know that he is only like this when behind the wheel, I found it somewhat amusing.  What amuses me further is that he is a little like this even when I’m driving!  However, not nearly as bad.

Saturday night we were meeting my friend G and going to the Brasserie Bruxelles on Viale Abruzzi.  A & F2 were coming too.

They have a rather excellent selection of beers.  Once again, F proved to be so good, chatting to A & F2 whilst G & I were able to catch up.  G saying that F didn’t really seem like an Italian – a little more Anglicised – and not only because he drank beer like any good Englishman.  G had phoned me to say he had arrived at the station and I told him what bus to get.  The F phoned to say that he was at the station (the car was being taken by another colleague) and could pick G up.  Of course, neither of them had each other’s number so there were a couple of phone calls with me in the middle.  However, F found G, even if they had never met before and then they got to the bar by car

Then we went for a pizza at Al Basilico, just a block down from the bar.

A & F2 were then going home but G wanted us (F & I) to meet R, the new girl in his life and so we went to this bar/restaurant/club place called Shanghai.

G is going back to the UK.  He hates the mentality of the Italians and the fact that it is so difficult to get things done here – every step halted by a wall that always seems impenetrable.  He hates the fact that the Italians are too busy (well, maybe this is particular to the Milanese) looking the part without the substance (which is also how F feels, certainly about Milan).  He’s been here for 10 years.  I explained that, being here for so long, there’s no way that he can go back and live in the UK.  For all that Italy and the Italians may drive you crazy, there are things that will happen in the UK where he will suddenly think how much he misses Italy (and the Italians).

But back to Shanghai.  I hate and loath these places with passion.  A huge hanger-like place.  Far too full of people; all busy being the best there.  We were going for a drink (but really to meet R).  She was very sweet and very, very pretty.  But neither F nor I were really happy about being in that place.  I mean, it’s a place for people that neither of us really like and exactly one of the reasons why G was going back to the UK ….. but he was there only for R, of course!

If I never get to go back to Shanghai again, it will be too soon.

We go home.  His home.  He wants to spend the night at his place because he has to get ready for his trip and because he wants to have Sunday breakfast at the café.  So, maybe, it’s his ‘thing’ too, after all?

We get up late(ish) and go to have breakfast which, as you know, I love doing.

I go and do the dogs, some washing, etc.  He gets ready for the trip.

I get back later and he does dinner.  I have brought wine and moved the car to nearby his place.

We don’t have dinner immediately.  When I arrive, he is getting ready for a bath, having spent some time doing his ‘beauty’ treatment stuff.  He is in his white underpants.  He is incredibly sexy.  I wonder, at one point, why I think he’s incredibly sexy and why does he turn me on so.  I don’t know.  There are things about him, his body, that, ordinarily, I would not find a turn-on and yet, here he is and every single part of him is so sexy.  Even his feet, which I think are beautiful!  I find myself looking at him and wanting him – all the time.  I sit and chat to him as he has a bath, concentrating on the chat to hide the fact that I just want to look at him.

After dinner he does his Farmville thing.  He sits on the chair with his legs crossed under him, without socks.  I sit next to him and stroke his feet.  I have never had any sort of foot fetish but, with him, I think I could!

I go home later to walk the dogs and come back just after 9.  We go to bed early as we are getting up at 5.30 – I’m taking them to the airport.

Neither of us can sleep.  Not because we aren’t tired.  We talk a little.  I tell him that I get paranoid when I’m not with him (about the lack of things in common) and I worry about that because this will be the longest time we’ve been apart.  I tell him that I know it is stupid and he agrees and says there is so much we can learn from each other.  And I know that is true, still, I think he’s starting to understand me and he is more affectionate than normal.  He tells me of the things going on in his head – the reasons he can’t sleep – work, the new flat, the lack of time to do everything.  I tell him not to worry and that everything will be OK and I will help him if he asks and that, at the very worst, he can stay at mine if everything is not ready.  He knows that and says so and says thanks and means it.  And we talk a little more about his actual work and why this trip is important both for him and the company.  And I have a better understanding of why he is where he is within the company.  He had said over the weekend that he will be introducing me to the big boss as his new boyfriend – and I think that he is proud to do so.  And that makes me happy.

He is having the test soon and is worried about that.  I ask him if he wants me to have the test too.  He doesn’t really say but I know that he does.  I tell him that I will do it.  I know it will make him happy.  He asks when I last had the test and I tell him that it was about 22 years ago.  He is shocked but I explain that there was no need.  I was only with V.  He asks if I wasn’t worried that V was with someone else and I said that no, I wasn’t.  And that was true.  at least it was true for the most of it.  Still, I know it will make him happy and he says it would make a big difference (and you can work that out for yourselves).

The Chinese people next door don’t help.

This morning, he says we’ll just have 5 minutes of cuddling before getting up.  Then another five minutes.  Then we get up.

He says he is so appreciative of me taking him to the airport.  I explain that it means extra time with him.  He doesn’t seem to get it – every second with him is like some sort of bonus.  He has said that I should not come and pick him up but agrees to it as I leave them at the airport.

And so, I shall pick him up on Saturday and be glad to do so.

And, in the space of the weekend, he has become even more demonstrably affectionate, as if he is understanding that I am true.  And, even if there is so much more to discuss, at least, last night, we have made a start.

Speaking, of course, is a different thing; I feel quite stupid when I talk

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We were on the phone for a while.  I rang because I needed some help which he was great about.  Then we talked about Ig and him.  And he was saying that he has very strong feeling for Ig and doesn’t want him to go but that he wants his freedom ‘cos he feels that he needs that more now.  I told him to be careful because he could lose Ig on the way and why doesn’t he try it first…..he can always split if it didn’t work out.

And then he was saying that, although they talk a lot and have the same sort of ideas, they have nothing in common and I reminded him that neither did we when we first got together but then we had lots of things in common by the end – the things in common happen because you either like to do the same things or you compromise and do the same things anyway, even if you don’t particularly like them or they do nothing for you.

I told him not to worry about that.

But then it got me to thinking (and I’ve already told him that he shouldn’t do too much thinking about it, lest he becomes Italian), we, that is F & I, don’t seem to have so much in common – and then I started to worry about that and worry about the fact that, maybe, there is nothing there other than the physical side and continue to thinking about how it would be in 6 months or a year when we run out of things to say……

And that’s exactly why I gave him the advice I did and why I must take the same advice.

And then I went round last night and all that worry disappeared for I was so glad to see him and hold him and kiss him again and just be with him.  And I knew that I was right in what I had said to V. These things in common become the things you have in common as you do things together.  And I knew it to be true.

For various reasons, he had not eaten at lunchtime and so he was hungry.  Anyway it was our meseversary (lol)!

And so we went to the Sardinian restaurant (Baia Chia on Via Bazzini), again.  This is because he goes there often, they know him, and he really likes the food and service.  And, I have to be honest, so do I and, in particular, their Mirto (after dinner liqueur) which is so much nicer than the stuff you can buy in the shops.

The waitress, who loved S (his ex) seems also quite taken with me.  She said that she likes that I ‘speak sweetly’ to him.  I chose an starter but she suggested something else.  I accepted her choice.  It was lovely.  We drank wine, we talked about Christmas about his work about us about many things.  The conversation was good.  He told me that I must speak Italian to him.  I am scared of this.  I cannot express myself very well in Italian since the words I know are limited in number.  My grammar is crap (but I’m not worried about that because I can learn that as we go along) – but it’s the lack of words that is the problem.

I talked about the first time we met and how I didn’t think anything would happen.

We drank the mirto at the end (they put the bottle on the table – something that would never happen in the UK (and, I guess, the USA) and we had several glasses.  F went to pay.  He gets a big discount.  A few moments after he came back, the waitress came up with a bottle of Mirto for me to take as a present.  They would not take payment for it.

They love him, of course.  What’s not to love?  And, after the comment about me talking sweetly to him, we discussed the fact that people must be able to ‘see’ how we feel about each other.

We walked home (well, to his home) and, after a couple of cigarettes, went to bed and I know that it is ‘right’ and good and that he is the man for me.

This morning, I am walking home and it is just about 6 a.m. so no metro or buses.  I am so happy in spite of the cold and that feeling remains even now.

This morning I changed the writing language on my mobile phone to that of Italian and so, now, I write messages in Italian.  It’s a start, I know.  Speaking, of course, is a different thing; I feel quite stupid when I talk.

Walking away from me but not out of my life

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OK.  Now it’s my turn.  The ‘meeting of friends’.

I told FfI that we were ‘on’ for dinner.  She suggested Friday or Saturday.  F agreed to either.  Now, all we have to do is fix it up.  With any luck FfC will be there too as I would love him to meet her as well.

I decided during the day that I really should be home with the dogs – at least for one night or, even better, every other night.  I thought that, as the cleaner would be in and the place would be reasonable, I should invite him over.

And then I thought about A and whether I would invite A to come too.

About 4 p.m. I sent F a text to ask if he would like to come over and stay at mine so that I could spend time with the dogs.  I promised him a cheap pizza (at Time Out 2 (Via Eustachi)).

Just after 5, I sent another text to say that I was leaving work.  I had had no reply.  As I was driving back I checked my phone regularly.  Nothing.  I started to worry.  Perhaps he didn’t want to stay at my place?  Perhaps he was just being kind and now working out a way to say ‘no’?  In my mind I went through the conversation (another one of those ‘serious’ ones about how he should always tell me the truth – even if he thinks it would hurt me because the truth was so much better than lies or half-truths).  The conversation that, probably, would never happen, like most that go through my mind.  Like the other conversations.

I got out of the car and walked the short distance home.  Because of my problems with 3 (who have got to be almost the worst telephone company in the world, now close to beating Telecom Italia), I texted V to see if he was receiving my texts.  At least, then, I would know if F had got my texts.  V replied that, yes, he got it OK.

I got into the flat and said hello to the dogs and the cleaner.  Offered the cleaner tea, as usual but he said he was in a hurry.

Then, F phoned me.  I was so relieved to see it was him calling but also there was a tinge of fear as to what he would say.  Instead, he asked what he should do – go home first or come straight to me!  I said he could come straight to me but he would need shower gel and a toothbrush.  He said OK.  He said it would be better because if he went home and had a shower, he would not want to come out later.  If the cleaner had not been there I think I would have shouted ‘YES!!!!’.  The cleaner was there.  Inside I shouted, at the top of my internal voice, ‘YES!!!!!’.

I decided that I would not phone A after all.  This time would be for us.

A called.  ‘What are you doing tonight?’, he asked.  I explained that F would arrive in about 10 minutes but that we intended to go out for a pizza and he could come too, if he would like.  It would mean that he could meet F.  He said OK and he would call shortly to confirm it would be OK, after I had told F.

F arrived.  It is so difficult to explain in words how happy I am to see him, every time.  I look at his face, his eyes.  I want to hold him.  We hug and kiss almost before he has got in through the door!  I tell him about A calling.  He says OK.

A calls and I tell him to come here and we can have a quick drink before going for a pizza.  I so want A to like F and vice versa.

We have a glass of wine and sit in the lounge.  Dino is over excited.  First there is F and he hasn’t really got used to him yet.  Then there is A and so, two new people.  I sit on the footstool and try and give Dino enough affection to ensure he doesn’t bother the other two.  They talk almost exclusively in Italian.  I understand some of it.  I think: I wonder if they will talk about me or talk about what F thinks of me?  But, F thinks that I understand more than I do, so maybe not.

They seem to get on.  F is charming and they have a long (I also hope good) conversation.  We go for a pizza.

F orders beers, even if A doesn’t really want beer.  Well, it’s not that he doesn’t want beer, really, and so, I think he is quite pleased, secretly.

F starts to translate the menu.  I’m not sure that it’s for me really, but more to check his English.  For me, of course, it is not necessary.  I translate some of the words for him.  I have explained that food translation is, generally not a problem, as it is my favourite subject!

F says that he knows which pizza I will have.  I am surprised that he thinks he knows.  But then he correctly guesses – Diavola – with salame piccante – ‘hot’ salame although for you English and Americans you wouldn’t really notice it was ‘hot’!  I am surprised and then think that, actually, I almost always choose this pizza.  I choose to have Volcano (Diavola with an egg).

Sometimes F can be quite ‘strong’.  As usual, he orders everyone’s food.  I find this endearing – as if he needs to order for me because I can’t speak Italian. But I also find it strange that he should order for A.  Normally this is A’s job.  But I quite like that F is strong enough that he just does it and A doesn’t complain.

They do a lot of talking in Italian.  I notice (notice being a strange thing to say but, just for a moment it seems like it is ‘just notice’, like for the first time, even if this is not true) F’s hands.  I want to hold them.  They seem small and delicate and lovely and sweet and I want to grab his hand and kiss it and kiss the palm, like I do when we’re alone.  And as I write this I realise I didn’t do that last night and know that I should have.  He likes it.

But, I notice the hands; his hands; his beautiful hands.  I look at his face as he speaks to A.  It’s true, he is not the most beautiful man in the world but, to me, he is.  I am sitting next to him and listening to him talk to A and thinking that we are not close enough; we can never be close enough or, at least, not right now.

We finish the pizzas.  I stretch my arm over the back of F’s chair, resting my hand on the back but now being able to stroke his back with my thumb.  It will do but even this act makes me want more!  I notice that there is a mirror by the side of him so that all the other people in the restaurant can see what I am doing, if they were to look; I find that I really don’t care.  I am proud to be with him; to have him here at my side; to let everyone know that I adore him.

A is hungry – which is not really a surprise.  F wants a sweet.  They bring the sweet menu.  A doesn’t normally have a sweet but will in this case.  He would prefer another pizza.  The sweets arrive.  I leave some of mine, partly because I am not really hungry and partly because I know that F will eat it – but only if I say I don’t want any more.  It’s what A’s F does with A.  I wonder if she does it for the same reason?

A is still hungry.  Again F is very strong – and how I love this!  He insists that A has another pizza.  A fights this – but not too hard and, anyway, F makes it like ‘fun’ and tells the waitress that A lost a bet and now has to eat another pizza.  F and I have another beer.  Then F & I have a mirto – this is nowhere near as good as the Sardinian restaurant of Friday night but still……

A doesn’t want a mirto – until we have ours.  So a third is ordered.  F complains that he hates the glasses (tall and thin) because it is difficult to drink with his nose the way it is.  He does have a large, Italian nose.  I see how it is difficult.  I think: even his nose is beautiful.

He kisses me in front of A – not something I would normally do but F is less frightened of showing affection than me and, anyway, I like it and not only let him do it but reciprocate willingly.

It’s not a long, lingering kiss – that will come later when we’re on our own.  But it’s still there.  Out of the corner of my eye, I see A, a little uncomfortable and think: well, you need to get used to it because this is what F does and why not?

We leave.  I think A likes him.  F does ask me, at one point, if he is being ‘too much’.  I tell him that no, I don’t believe so.

I know I am biased, but I loved him for being so wonderful with A and told him so.  I hope that he feels the same about me with his friends and think that, probably, he does.  As he has said from the beginning, really, we all want the same thing – and both of us are working hard to fit into each others lives – and it is such a pleasure; it gives us such pleasure to do so.

This morning, I do my new plan, allowing him to sleep for over an hour more.  It’s not enough for him but it’s better than nothing.

I drive him home this morning.

As I drive down the road to work, I watch him in the rear-view mirror, walking away from me but not out of my life.  No, no, not at all.

Now we have Christmas and New Year together

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“…then we can spend the night together!”

The voice was hushed and, yet, excited.  Bless him.  Still there is the ‘not running’ thing.  See, that’s what I don’t quite get.  Again, it’s my mild autism coming into play, I guess.  Run!  Don’t Run!  Run!  Don’t Run!

‘Would you like to come to dinner with me and MM [his colleague with whom he goes to Tango lessons on a Monday night] or pick me up after the lesson?’, he asked earlier.

‘I can do both’, I reply – not telling him that every moment I spend out of his presence is a moment too long.

And so, last night, I got home and went almost straight away to pick him up from work.  The plan was that we would go for something to eat, he would go to Tango lessons with MM and then I would drive down about 10.30, pick him up from the lesson and we would go to his house.  I would have taken the dogs out before I left, of course.

The reality was a little different.  First, I went to his office and I quickly tried on a suit jacket – just to see if the standard size fitted me.  It was absolutely perfect!  I am so lucky like that.  He was pleased.  These are samples, made for the buyers.  They come in one size and, very fortunately, it’s my size.  And I mean, so my size it looked like it was tailored just for me.  He said that I could also use his discount as he’s not buying anything this year.  That’s an extra 50% off!

Then, because it was a little early to meet MM, we went for a beer.  We talked about A.  A was funny on Sunday because he felt he should get changed if we were to meet F, which in the end, we didn’t.  I said that F wouldn’t mind and it was fine.  A seemed nervous about meeting F.  F is also nervous about meeting A (and all my other friends).  I explained to F that everyone will love him because he makes me so happy!  This is true, I know.

We went to the restaurant/pizzeria.  MM was already there, on her first beer.  She drinks beer like an English person.  And smokes as much as I do.  I love her already.  We order and, she wants meat but they only do it for 2.  F asks if I will have that and I am pleased to do so.  The meat was perfect.

MM understands English quite well but doesn’t speak it at all.  The conversation is difficult to follow at times but I get most of it.  MM asks if F is going to Austria for Christmas.  He says that no, we are going to R’s birthday dinner and then we shall spend Christmas together.  He turns to me and says ‘Is that OK?’.  I smile and say ‘Of course, that’s OK’.  In my head I am already dancing on the table!

MM says that perhaps we should go to Vienna for New Year.  F thinks this is a good idea and says we could drive there.  It’s his birthday just after New Year.  It would be nice.  I say that this would be lovely but I have to sort out the dogs.  He understands.

We have another beer each at the restaurant and then go outside for a cigarette.  They talk about Tango.  The problem is that F (and MM) will miss the next two weeks.  MM suggests that, as they are supposed to pay this week, it seems quite mad that they are going anyway – missing so many lessons already.

They decide that they won’t go after all.  MM suggests going for a drink.  She lives not far from me.  We walk up towards Via Eustachi.  We go to Bar Aurore on Via Castelmorone.  This is one of the more famous bars in Milan.  Very old fashioned and, to me, it seems almost French in style.

We order beers.  We talk.  Occasionally we go outside for a cigarette.  I try to talk Italian with MM.  F smiles (almost laughs) as I am talking.  I stop and ask why he is laughing at me.  He explains (mainly to MM) that this is the first time he has heard me speak Italian, which is probably true and it’s not wrong just strange to him.

We have several more beers.  I go to the bathroom.  Afterwards, F explains that, whilst I was in the bathroom, MM had exclaimed ‘Why, F, you never told me he was gorgeous!  If he wasn’t gay I would be interested in him!’  I think this pleases him.  I like MM very much (apart from the beer drinking and smoking) – she is lovely.  I think she likes me too.  I think I’m doing OK!

I have to go and walk the dogs.  He says we should walk the dogs together.  I am happy about that, except that, when I rushed out, I left the cleaner doing the ironing and knew there would be ironing left all over the lounge, the bedroom with sheets not changed; I had no idea that he would come over tonight!

I try to explain that the house will be a mess and why it will be so.

We get home.  He loves the dogs although Dino is, as usual with someone new, over excited.  We take them out.  We get back.  We go to bed.  We talk.  I so love having him with me.  I just so love it.

Again he talks about going slowly.  I wonder at what point that will change.  He explains why (again) and I do understand.  But then there are the Christmas and New Year arrangements.  But these all come from him.  I cannot make suggestions (I feel) as I do not know how fast/slow such arrangement-making is!

This morning, I get up early but let him sleep in whilst I take the dogs out.  I go back and make coffee and then have a shower.  I explain how, next time, I will alter the arrangements and have a shower before coffee so that he can get up later.

Dino is over excited as normal.  He really likes Rufus, who is quiet and calm.  But I think he likes Dino also.  Dino will be calmer when he gets used to him.  I must remember to tell him that.

I drive him home.  He says that he can catch a bus.  I tell him that no way and, anyway, this is on my way to work.  He is ready to get out at Piazza Loretto but I say that I will drive him up to his house.  He says that the traffic will be bad for me.  I say it is far to early and it will be fine and point this out as we drive towards his place.  I am right.

I drop him off.  We kiss, briefly before he gets out of the car and blow kisses to each other as he walks to his building.  He says he will call me.

Now we have Christmas and New Year together.

I see him Monday night!

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He says he will show me on Monday. I guess it means that after a weekend ‘apart’ at night, Monday we may (will) be together :-)

Even if I can’t keep doing it, I shall, of course.

Being apart from him is hard. Even as I write this, I can smell him; feel him; want him.

>Need him? Not sure about that. There’s a thing about ‘need’ that is different. Not sure I’m there yet.

Of course, his world is very different from mine. He lives in the ‘fashion’ world. I said the other night that I knew nothing of that ‘world’ – he responded that it was a good thing that I knew nothing about it. Since many gay people here live in that world, I wonder if V is there too and if he is enjoying it. I hope so. I keep meaning to ask him but forget. Just like, yesterday, I forgot to ask if he had quit smoking, given his current health issues.

FfI asked today if F had seen pictures of V. I don’t remember if he has or not. I’m not sure why she asked. To me it’s not that important. F is not V and V is not F. I am with F and not with V, nor will I ever be with V again, in that way. I mean, if F wants to see a picture of V then OK. If not then fine.

Last night was the dinner with the ‘friends’, R and Al. Actually, they were really nice and easy to get on with. We went to a new restaurant and I forgot to pick up the card, so can’t really give you the details. The food was excellent although the service left a little to be desired. Still, starters and mains with 2 bottles of wine between 5 and sweets and the total per head was €30 per head so not so bad. I had a boar stew thing which was really lovely.

Then, AfL, F and I went to a bar for a drink. A friend of AfL’s was there. They chatted in Italian and, to be honest I didn’t get most of it…..sometimes I just switch off. However, F said something to AfL’s friend and I didn’t really understand (and he wouldn’t really explain) – the thing being “I cut your hands”. Those of you who are Italian, perhaps you can explain what it is. We don’t have that in the UK and although I asked F what it meant he just kept repeating it…….but I’m sure it had another meaning.

F asked what I was going to buy in Fox Town (where I go today with A). I said that I might buy a suit as I really need one. F suggested that, if I don’t see one, then I should try his place sometime this month where I will be able to get one at a huge discount. Showroom stock. I’m not sure about this particular designer – never been that keen but, I guess I should have a look. I think it will be classic stuff (for suits anyway) so it might be OK.

We talked about him meeting my friends. He said it would be embarrassing because I will have told them he is gorgeous and handsome and he is not – well, except to me. I suppose he has a point – sort of. Although, I don’t think I’ve actually said that to my friends – but I might have.

Apparently he didn’t say anything to his friends other than ‘I’m seeing this guy’. AfL said that I wasn’t like they expected – but as I don’t know what they expected, it’s difficult to know what that means! She added that I was nothing like S, his previous long-term partner – well, yes, I know that – and I’m certainly not in the fashion industry, nor camp, nor anything like your standard gay man – I guess.

Hopefully we shall be back early enough from Fox Town that we can go for something to eat/a drink with F and AfL – maybe with A as well – that will be the first of my friends, here, that he should meet – although ideally, he should meet Best Mate first, ‘cos she is Best Mate, after all!

AfL also wants us to go to London for a weekend. F said that the company had a flat in the city or near the city we could use. Sounds nice. Also R has his birthday on 24th December and holds a dinner that evening. F said he would be staying in Milan this Christmas and, so we can go. It’s all long(ish) term stuff. It gives me a warm and fuzzy feeling. And I can’t explain, well not in words that really explain, how I feel when I’m with him – how he makes me feel – how happy I am and I’m pretty sure he feels the same – I mean 99% sure.

Anyway, I see him Monday night!

Sardinian restaurant; V update and advice; my wine shop

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Italians, as I have said before and as you would expect, have a thing about food. And, unlike the UK, it’s all very regional – however, I live in Milan and, here, we have restaurants from all over Italy. Last night we went to a Sardinian restaurant (Baia Chia – Vai Bazzini, 37).

It has, mostly fish (I guess because Sardinia is an island) although there are a few meat dishes. However, I decided on grilled Sea Bass for the main course and some raw tuna mixed thing for antipasto – this I shared with F who had chosen some prawn thing.

I have to say it was all delightful. When they came with the Mirto at the end of the meal it was, truly, the best Mirto I’ve had.

Not a big restaurant but well worth a visit – even if it is a little off the beaten track.

F admired the jumper some woman was wearing and said he wanted it…….so, partly as a joke and partly because it’s me….I went over and found out where she had bought it and gave the info to F – he seemed pleased but it may have been just because I had the nerve to ask in the first place :-)

AfL was lovely. F paid for the whole meal which annoyed both of us – but what was done was done…….it just means I have to be better at spotting what he is doing.

We walked part of the way back together and then I left them and went home.

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Earlier, I had texted V to wish him well for Monday when he said he was going to go back to work. He said he wasn’t going back as he had had some results from the tests.

I phoned him. It seems he has a problem with some nerves in his wrist, which is why his arm keeps going numb and they have also found a problem with one of the valves in his heart!

I don’t know whether it’s serious or not. He would probably never tell me. We chatted for a bit, easily with many laughs.

I told him about the problem with the kid. He told me that, perhaps, I shouldn’t be my usual self and should be a bit more like him…..letting the guy down very, very gently. His opinion is that Italian men are about 10 years less mature than British men…..which would make the kid 20! Scary!!

I got him to promise that, in future, he would keep me up to date about his tests and health and joked that I would need to know so that I could come over and put post-it notes on the furniture I wanted!

He won’t keep me up to date, of course. I know him better than that.

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Later. I go to the wine shop. We are supposed to be going to his friends’ place for the meal tonight. I ask the guy for a really good bottle of dry white and a good bottle of sweet white. He has some expensive wines in the shop. By expensive I mean €60 plus. He points me to one costing €28 and says that is particularly good. More or less the same with the desert wine. It’s why I keep going back. And his choice is almost always perfect.

He tells me that he has some more Macallan 7-year-old whisky (I had bought for a colleague once) and would knock something off the price.

Really, this guy is good. Of course, it’s all in Italian and I don’t understand everything he says but I can rely on him. If you tell him exactly what food you’re going to eat he will pick the wine to accompany it. Love it.

Then F phones to say that we are now going to a restaurant anyway. Well, it’s not as if the wine will go off, so there’ll be another time.