On the other hand, whilst talking about Italy, one should be very careful which words to use, as is shown here.
Some of them I knew but there were a couple of surprises here. Including the cheese – which I like. I wonder how many times I’ve got it wrong???????
The problem with violence depicted on film and TV is that it desensitises us to real violence and death.
The killing of Lee Rigby was a case in point. The advent of mobile phone cameras allows us to see the aftermath and not be particularly shocked by the footage on the basis that we’ve seen much worse in films. Don’t get me wrong, it was a terrible thing – but the video itself was hardly shocking in itself. It could have been the scene of a badly shot film.
So, too, we seem to become desensitised to the runnings of those in power. We’ve all seen the Matrix, haven’t we? The Net. James Bond, etc. We know how the Governments and their spying agencies work. After all, it makes for exciting films.
And so we come to Prism. Sounds like title for a film anyway, doesn’t it?
We understand that the US Government, by way of it’s spying agencies such as the FBI, have been collecting a load of data on almost everyone. Instead of being horrified we are saying “Well, what did you expect?”.
Let’s not get this out of perspective. Governments and powerful individuals and organisations have been doing this for centuries. Those of you from the UK will have seen the Tudors and read the books of the Tudor period when it was well known that letters were intercepted and read and eavesdropping was commonplace.
And, of course, if the letters and conversations were innocent, then there was nothing to fear. Was there?
Well, yes and no. History, it is said, is written by the victors. WWII has the Germans as the bad guys. But, of course, had Germany won the war, history would be different.
And now, you will notice that all the whistle blowers of recent times have, within days, been portrayed as bad, mad or just plain vicious. It has always been so. Mary I was portrayed as either a wicked woman or a bit stupid. But, I’m guessing that, had she had a successful marriage and had children, history would show her in a different light.
But, the justification by the FBI for the Prism stuff is amazing.
I read this:
[They claim] such programs could have foiled the 9-11 terrorist attacks and would prevent “another Boston”.
Erm, excuse me. The Prism thing has been happening for a number of years. One has to ask, why didn’t it prevent the Boston thing in the first place? The argument that it “would prevent” just doesn’t hold water. And, in any event, if someone wanted to do something, there will be a way to do it.
But, of course, we are all compliant in this thing now. We’ve read the books and seen the films. We aren’t up in arms because we already knew all about it. We say “Tut tut” and carry on with our lives in a society that seems to become more Fascist/Communist by the day.
But, Mr FBI man, please don’t think that we are all as stupid as you like to think. “Would prevent another Boston”? Well, maybe. But let’s see when the next atrocity happens, shall we? I’m sure you’ll be explaining why, in that particular case, all this data didn’t actually help.
Sometimes, I’m grateful that I’m old now.
Anyway, the title of the post made me think of this great song. One of my all time favourites. Enjoy but remember that they know you’re watching 
Beverley Knight – Shoulda Woulda Coulda
This is a post for non-Italians.
Italians – don’t read this.
That includes you, Lola and you, Pietro. This doesn’t apply to you.
I’m just having a rant.
I have come to the conclusion that Italians are a) ignorant b) bad-mannered, c) rude or d) stupid.
Or, of course, all of the above at the same time.
Yesterday, it seemed they were all those and all at the same time.
Let me give some examples:
1. I’m taking the dogs for the evening walk. We get in the lift and we arrive at the ground floor. I open the lift doors and there is an older couple waiting to take the lift. From the front of the lift to the door to outside is a matter of a few feet. There are some steps on the right (the stairs to the floors going round the lift) and to the left is the corridor to go to the shops and café that are on the ground floor. When the lift door is open, this corridor is, effectively, shut off to you.
There is, just about, enough room for two people to pass each other without going up the stairs a step or two, providing you walk a little sideways.
I am holding two leads connected to two excited dogs. They enjoy going out for a walk. They are straining on the leads. It is not possible for me to either go sideways nor to go up the steps.
The two people stand, one behind the other and, two people, one behind the other, effectively block the door outside.
I wait for a few seconds.
The dogs don’t. The people stand there – in my way. They give no thought to moving. I decide they are stupid. Surely, it must be that? They look like perfectly respectable people but, quite obviously, the fact that they have lived so long is purely a matter of luck and definitely not judgement.
As the dogs strain to get past, the woman turns a little and tries to step back. She is obviously more stupid than I had at first thought as there is nowhere to go. So the dogs brush against her (much to her chagrin) and I mutter that they are stupid.
2. On the same dog walk. We are nearing the end. We have to pass the tobacconists. They are doing some road works (on the pavement) and the pavement is not so large.
As I approach, I see that there are about 5 or 6 people who are at the cigarette machine and as if they are in a queue. They are completely blocking the path.
They see us but do not move. I mean, why would you? We are in Italy. We get to the point where in a second we will collide with them. Two of the people who are “at the end of the queue”, move back slightly, permitting us to squeeze through. Again, I have two dogs. They are obviously not happy about the dogs touching them. Because, quite obviously, they just didn’t realise that the dogs would touch them if they leave a minuscule gap for us to get through!
3. I am driving. I need to turn left. There are two bikes (one after the other) coming towards me on the opposite side of the road. If I were Italian I would just turn into the road and go. I am not. I am polite. I wait. The first bike, without any signals turns right into the road into which I will be turning. It is annoying but it’s OK. The older woman on the second bike sees that I am waiting and so tries to cycle a bit faster.
Without signals, she also turns right. I could have turned right before the first one, IF ONLY THEY HAD SIGNALLED. Bastard people with no thought for anyone but themselves.
4. I am driving down the road. Cars are parked either side. There is enough room for a car to double park (providing it is “tucked in” and for another to get past. Just about. The car in front is driving a little slowly – but anyway, suddenly stops without any indication that they were going to do so. They have not “tucked themselves in” and, therefore, there is no way I can get past. Obviously, the road belongs to them and I should have realised that. Also they had absolutely no idea that I was behind them. I guess their mirror is used to check hair and make-up?
There were lots of other examples last night – but I can’t list them all.
But, can I just say, it FUCKING ANNOYS me!
* Of course, this doesn’t apply to any Italians that are my friends. Except, of course, the ones who are a) ignorant b) bad-mannered, c) rude or d) stupid. But you’ll know who you are.
Then you HAVE to see this:
It’s Not About the Nail from Jason Headley on Vimeo.
So, guys, the next time your lady friend says you’re not listening, just show her this.
It made me laugh a lot 
Everyone seems to have a different idea about when and how you should use your mobile telephone.
Now, with the smartphones, there are games (like Ruzzle) that you play in competition with other people. I still have a Blackberry, so I don’t have these games. They only work with a touch screen.
But, surely, there are times when it’s quite acceptable to use phones and times when it’s not.
I don’t like it when F plays Ruzzle during, say, a meal in a restaurant – although I say nothing. I dislike it more when he is playing (at any time) and doesn’t answer me when I speak to him. It’s not like he does this all the time but I will be very glad when he gets fed up with the game.
I don’t think you should be using your mobile when you drive (and I’m sure I’ve mentioned this in past posts). It is, after all, dangerous.
I watch groups of people using their mobile phones and think, sometimes, that mobile phone usage seems to have replaced “real life”!
I once rang a colleague, some years ago. There was an echoey sound. I asked them where they were. They replied that they were “on the toilet”! I couldn’t believe it. I felt kind of dirty – as if I were in the cubicle with them! I told them to phone me when they had finished. And then I had to go and wash my hands 
And then there’s this latest thing..
The thing that caught my attention (as it was meant to do, of course) was that 29% (that’s nearly one third, folks) of Italian women admit to using their smartphone DURING SEX! How that made me laugh.
But, I’m intrigued – are they playing Ruzzle or texting or making/receiving calls? And, one other thing, the partner – don’t they say anything????
Of course, this was a survey and we don’t know what the question was – but, even so……..
Any Italian ladies out there who are brave enough to give us an insight? Lola???
Update: A male colleague has suggested that she is answering a call from her husband
I went to a second-hand book fair last Saturday. It was organised by the Anglican Church in Milan of which, one of my friends here is a member.
I came away with 6 books to add to my other 2 that I am saving for the summer weekends and weeks on the beach. I can’t remember all the titles or authors but they included Bleak House which I have never actually read.
In fact, I realised as I bought it, the only Dickens I have read was when I was at school and I thought it was about time I read one of them for pleasure.
Previously, I had bought Life of Pi and the Hilary Mantel book, Wolf Hall, her historical fictional account of Thomas Cromwell’s rise to power. In fact, I shouldn’t have bought Life of Pi at all. I was lent it by someone but then Piero got it and it was turned into small pieces of paper, spread all over the flat, so I bought another copy and I might as well read it before I give it back.
So, that’s my summer reading all sorted now. All I need is summer which is taking a rather long time to come through and all the rain we are having is rather annoying, not to say anything about how cold it is.
F, having spent all last week in Spain (for work), became ill but still travelled down to his Aunt and Uncle’s 50th Wedding Anniversary “party” on Saturday. I was invited but I don’t think he was so keen for me to go, so I didn’t. However, he rang me during the meal because his Aunt wanted to thank me for the present (which F bought in Spain – but which he said was from both of us) and his cousin just wanted to say hello. It’s nice of them but I still get confused with S and, in fact, his Aunt called me S.
But that really doesn’t bother me at all on the basis that they see us as a couple in the same was as F & S were and, after all, they’re both foreign names to them
F only went down for the day (the party was a lunch) but by the time he came back he was worse.
Sunday we went to the hospital. The sister of P (One of F’s best friends and who got married last year in Villa Singer), E, has just had her kidney replaced (she had been on dialysis for ages) and, until the middle of last week, had been doing so well, they were going to send her home. Then it started rejecting and so they needed to put her on stronger drugs and keep her monitored. Obviously, as she comes from Cararra, she is a long way from home and F tries to see her as often as possible. Sunday, we went together.
The hospital is one of the biggest in Milan and only a little way outside the city. It took us about 10 minutes to get there by car). The strange thing was that, apart from the hospital beds and people walking around with bags hanging from them containing liquids of various kinds, it didn’t actually SEEM like a hospital. I mean it didn’t have the usual hospital smell that I really hate. It almost seemed quite nice!
Anyway, P rang F later to say that she had been very happy to see us, so that was nice.
By Sunday night F was feeling worse. Yesterday, he didn’t go to work and this morning, he went to the doctors to be told he had otitis and he’s off work until Friday (which is good because we have the Lisa Stansfield concert on Friday night).
Now, here’s thing. I mean to say, here’s the point of this post.
F doesn’t really do being ill very well. In fact, he always prefers (he says), to be on his own.
However, he has gone home, on his way back from the doctor’s, to get changes of clothes before he comes to my place to stay with the dogs! This is a huge difference from previous illnesses when he would go home and stay there. Of course, I guess it helps that I am there in the evenings to make drinks and other things for him. Bless.
There is a person that I really, really dislike.
I would almost go so far as to say “hate” but how can you hate someone you don’t even know?
There are two basic things “wrong” with this person.
1. They live here but, from what they’ve “said”, they hate/dislike so many things, I really don’t know why they are still here. Well, I do know why – it’s because they’re married to an Italian – but, really, why stay?
I don’t like everything here but, as I’ve said, many times, I wouldn’t be anywhere else. I love my life here and the things that suck are few and far between (and, if I don’t try and do anything official, it’s generally pretty fine).
This person complains. Pretty much all the time. And it’s annoying. It seems really difficult for them to see positive things, most of the time.
2. I really dislike it when people allude to “special powers” they have. In this case it’s “links to powerful people”. And, by “powerful people”, I don’t mean the Prime Minister of Italy, nor the local police chief but, rather, the local “mafia”. I remember a guy I once went out with who alluded to being part of the Israeli secret service. It was, of course, a complete load of bollocks – not least because, if he had been, he wouldn’t have gone on about it. Or someone I once employed who tried to convince everyone he had been in the French Foreign Legion. I thought he might make a good salesman but should have trusted my original instincts. He, of course, was lying about everything. And, I mean everything. Including a child that he said wasn’t his and the other women in his life. In the end, he married another employee of mine and I was quite sad about that – for her.
And, so, anyone alluding to some sort of secret connections/job that they “can’t really talk about” but do, really annoys me. I find these people to be, generally, untrustworthy and, so, don’t trust them.
Other than those two things, most of this person’s outpourings are, to be frank, utter bollox. A lot of hot air – or blah, blah, blah containing nothing of interest.
The problem is that I can’t quite bring myself to “get rid of them”. It’s like watching a car crash. Fascinating and hateful at the same time.
But, if I ever met this person, I would want to give them a really good slap in the face so it’s a good job that there is almost no chance of ever meeting them.
Still, I put up with colleagues that I dislike and are really stupid so I’m sure I can put up with this person.
But it’s annoying all the same.
Yes, I have.
It’s almost like I’m a movie producer or something.
Of course, I didn’t fund it all. In fact, I funded a little bit of it.
You can see the details here (it’s a Kickstarter project).
And there’s a teaser here (well, until midnight tonight)
And the film is called Nina Forever.
I’m very excited
And, I’ll get the DVD and some other stuff.
Sometime towards the end of next year.
This is my second Kickstarter project – unfortunately the last one didn’t make the target amount so nothing happened, which was a great shame. At least this one will happen.
And, as a bonus, it seems like it might be a good film
I have mentioned before – if you want to get an official document or get something stamped or signed – it will require at least two visits – maybe, even, three!
So, this morning, as my job required it, I needed to get a couple of copies of my passport and driving licence authenticated.
First by Italy and then by India.
I had everything.
So, the alarm went off. I stuck it on “snooze” but, as usual, got up about a minute later. I am in my usual it’s-too-early-to-function-as-anything-other-than-a-robot” mode. I shave and stuff. I make coffee. Once I have washed up, I start thinking about the getting the final things ready (gum, cigarettes, my tie, etc.)
I think “There’s something important in my bag”.
What is it that’s important? And why would I remember?
Then I remember. It’s the copies of my passport and driving licence which need to be authenticated by Italians and then passed by the Indian Consulate. It’s a work thing. What’s more important is that it means the alarm should not have been set for 6.15 a.m. but more like 8 a.m! Damn!
It’s now 7.15. For a second I think about staying up and then decide that an hour in bed is better than nothing. I go back to bed. F briefly wakes up as I am getting undressed and asks why. I give him the briefest of details.
About 8.15 I get up again. Without the shaving, I do it all again, including the coffee.
I leave the house for the office where, it seems, I may be able to get an Italian to stamp or authenticate my copies.
I get there.
I queue up.
When I get to the counter, I am told I am in the wrong queue. It should, of course, be the longer one.
I join and wait. I note that it will take 3 days for the document to be stamped. Italy cracks me up.
When I get to the counter (this is the counter next to the woman who told me I was in the wrong queue I am told that they can only authenticate my copies once my copies have been stamped as true copies by the commune (local council). WTF?
I walk down to the office that does this stuff.
I arrive and work out where to go.
I get a ticket. I think that IF (and that’s a big IF), I can get this stamped here, then I can try the Indian Consulate, since they only want it stamped by someone …….probably.
I wait for my turn.
And wait.
Eventually, I get to the counter.
It can’t be done. I have (and, of course, now that I think about it, stupidly, because I should have realised) copied my passport and driving licence onto one document. It saves paper and both documents prove that I am me.
But, as they are 2 documents, they have to be on two separate pieces of paper since then they can make separate charges.
I express my disgust at this and say OK I will do something else. He tries to explain something to me. I say it’s OK because I will do something else. Except, probably, I shout this a bit. He starts shouting at me and I just leave. Fuck ‘em. Really, WTF more than the last one!
I had had a bright idea that, since the point was for India to have copies that were authenticated, maybe the British Consulate in Milan could do it. And, at least there, I don’t have to deal with Italian bureaucracy.
I go to the British Consulate.
I am told that, as from the 1st April (so I missed it by 15 days), all this sort of stuff stopped being done by them and was now done by a couple of solicitors. They give me the details. I find that one is the other side of town but the map on my phone doesn’t recognise the name of the street of the other one. I toy with going back to the British Consulate to ask and decide that, as it’s now nearly lunchtime, I should go home and go to work.
At home, I make a cup of tea and check the map on the computer. The street was two minutes from the British Consulate. Grrrr.
I go to work anyway.
I arrive at work to get told that this documentation is no longer required.
So, although my theory of a minimum of two visits was confirmed, at least now I don’t have to do the second lot of visits!
And it was a beautiful day to be walking around.
And I did have an extra 40 minutes snooze this morning.
Today was the day that I decided that enough is enough.
It’s time for me to find what I am here for.
We all reach a point (or points) in life that tell us it’s time to make a change and make things better.
Well, at least make a change.
And that time is here.
So, I’m going back to the original heading for this site. As it originally said, I came here to find passion. Not passion in love (and, anyway, I have that). No, I mean the passion. The one thing that I was sent here (in Milan? In Italy? In the world?) to do.
Lola put this post up and the video she found on Karl’s blog in this post.
It’s not new – at least not to me. It’s what I’ve done more than once. But then, not knowing what I really want to do, I “fall into” something and, for a while it’s fun and enjoyable. And then it isn’t.
The details of the past times will be in another post which I’ve half-written but today was one of those defining moments. Now the time has arrived again and I must do something about it.
I found, today, that there were a load of people who, quite obviously, couldn’t care if they had a job or not; I wasted one a half hours of my life and it really got to me; and I was lied to by a fool. And I say that’s enough.
So many people are such absolute cunts who will never, ever, ever find their bliss but belong to that army of people who just trudge along in life. It’s what I do too when I get sucked in. But, today was a wake-up call.
It’s time, once again, to be a little bit daring, to jump off the cliff and see if I can fly.
So, here I go, trying to find my bliss. Except I don’t like the word bliss. It’s a creepy word. Instead I’ll call it Nemo (for want of anything better).
So, here I go, finding Nemo!