Tag Archives: Dino

Disaster!

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Wednesday, 11th August, 2010

It’s 6 a.m. Actually, I’ve had less than four hours sleep. I wish I were back in Milan.

F, though adorable, is too stressed and angry with, well, everything and this is too much like V. This is both unexpected and unwelcome.

For me, a holiday is to be a relaxing thing – I would worry about getting to the airport on time, if we were flying somewhere – but, in general, it should be relaxing. Unless you have something to ‘catch’, then let’s not worry.

F had to work and the dogs had to go in for a haircut – he took them. He called me. The dogs would be ready before 1 p.m. and could I go and collect them. Of course I could.

I arrive a few minutes before, having received the text at 12.45. Not too bad. As it turns out there were other people collecting too and, as usual, they were not ready before 1 but more like 1.30.

F had pre-paid the haircut. This is a little annoying but not enough to spoil my holiday. He meets us as we’re walking back – it’s a surprise – I thought he would finish later. He hasn’t packed yet. That’s OK. Neither have I! Or, rather, I haven’t finished.

I am slow at packing – that is to say, I can be fast – but if there’s nothing to catch I just can’t be really quick.

Later I go to pick him up. We return to my place and load the car. He is unimpressed by how many bags there are! And, whilst I do understand, we’re going by car. Most of the bags are dog’s stuff.

He takes some stuff down to the car and I am to follow with the dogs and the last few bags. He phones, asking if I need help – I am taking longer because I have to close up the flat, take the rubbish out, etc. and this is all taking rather longer than expected and, certainly, rather longer than he would like.

The dogs are already driving me crazy. They know that something is happening and are constantly under my feet. I admit to being a little stressed by them but I know that once I have them in the car everything will be alright!

I get to the car, laden with stuff AND trying to keep the dogs under control. We get the dogs in (then I know they will be fine), then I start to put some bags behind my seat. And this is when it starts. He is frustrated, obviously, and starts taking it out on me – complaining that I have too much stuff (which is, probably true – a ‘dog-walking coat (in case it rains), shoes for walking in the rain, a jacket in the evenings(in case it gets chilly – we shall be in the mountains/hills, etc.).

He grabs some of the bags I have just arranged and puts them in the footwell, at his feet (which means he cannot sit properly), grumbling and complaining – “Why have you got 4 books?”, as an example.

I try to explain that there is room behind my seat but he’s not listening to me.

We go. Most of the journey is in silence except for the CDs he has made and his ‘baby talk’ to Dino.

I am not stressed but I am silent since I don’t know what to say and I am not stupid enough not to know that anything I might say may spark him off. I lived with V for 20 years. I know he hates me driving (but hates driving himself even more). He needs to chill out a bit – in general. Of course, I could suggest that but I’m not that stupid. Still, the journey is good with light traffic, so not stressful – at least, not for me!

We arrive at his brother’s place and everything seems good.

As we get our bags out of the car he says that we look like gypsies – so many bags. There is no point in arguing – and I can’t be bothered to argue with someone who won’t listen – this much I’ve learnt.

A, his sister-in-law, has prepared something to eat and we sit in the garden drinking and eating. It is lovely but although the weather is warmish, it is considerably colder here than it was in Milan! We go to bed – early. Johnny has to be up for work early in the morning and, anyway, we are tired (and some of us are fractious, it seems).

We discuss taking the dogs to the beach and decide to wait and see what time we get up in the morning. He watches some television and I start to sleep. He switches the TV off. Unfortunately, that’s when it all kicks off. Dino, having had his ears (I mean to say, ear hair, of course) trimmed, finds, as in the past, that it is tickley. Every minute or so, he shakes his head vigorously, causing his ears to slap, rather loudly, on the sides of his head. Or, he scratches them – again loudly. Or, because he can’t settle, wanders round the very small bedroom, bumping into things. Whatever it is he is doing – it is keeping us awake.

F suggests, after much ‘cazzoing’ and ‘va fan culoing’, that he will go and sleep in the car. I say (because it is true), that I had already thought of me taking Dino there and staying with him. He replies that if I do that he will go and get a train, in the morning, and go back to Milan because ‘I am crazy like that’. He is angry – but what can I do? I say ‘I guess’.

He is obviously looking for someone to fight with.

He starts. ‘You made me come down here’. ‘You wanted to come and forced me to bring you’. Blah, blah. I wait until he is finished.

‘That is neither true nor fair’, I reply.

He gets up and leaves, taking the car keys with him. Oh well, if he’s going to be a stupid arse then let him be.

Dino almost immediately stops most of the scratching and head shaking and moving around – of course.

I resolve: tomorrow, after breakfast, I and the dogs are going back to Milan!

I wake at 6 a.m.

Packing, English milk and other things

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Of course, I should be packing now instead of writing this. But I am always ‘last minute’.

The dogs are in being groomed. I may have to collect them at any time.

F is at work. He is slightly peeved that I didn’t answer my phone straight away but it was on charge.

I’ve been and got the money from the scratch cards for him. I went to the supermarket to buy Autan because the vet suggested that this would stop the dogs getting bitten by sand flies (that pass on some dreadful disease, apparently) but I shall get a collar when I pick them up later too.

Whilst in the supermarket I saw that they had English milk. Well, not exactly from the UK but, rather, made in the English style. I drink a lot of milk. The problem here is that it is a bit watery for my liking. Proper, full-fat English milk would be great – except that they are in bottles. Not plastic bottles but glass bottles. So maybe I won’t. Carrying that back from the supermarket would be a real pain. Plus, it was expensive.

But now I must get back to packing. I don’t want to be doing it still when F arrives and wants to leave!

And, so, it’s unlikely I will post anything for a week and a half or so. I have decided not to take my computer. I have books and we have cards. The danger with the computer is that I will play the Facebook game – and that is time consuming and not something I should be doing when on holiday!

We have four days at the beach in Tuscany, followed by a week in Umbria, in the hills. It should be lovely. F wants to take Dino down to the sea because he thinks Dino will swim and enjoy it. I’m not so sure but it will be fun finding out!

And so, my dear reader, I leave you for this, our first real holiday together. I am so looking forward to it.

Whatever you are doing, have great couple of weeks and I will see you when I get back :-)

F has an idea!

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“I’ve had an idea”, he says. I have many ideas, most of which I keep to myself. I now know that he does too.

He doesn’t tell me straight away. Cleaning teeth, playing the new game on Facebook all go towards a delay in telling me. It isn’t until we get into bed that it is explained.

I should, perhaps, first explain that, the holiday plans go something like this:

We go back to his home town and stay with his brother (AKA Johnny Depp) and sister-in-law, taking our dogs (I can say ‘our’ now – see previous post). We go either next Tuesday afternoon/evening or Wednesday morning (possibly early).

We stay there until Saturday (so three or four nights).

On Saturday we (the dogs and us) go to the flat we have booked in Umbria. We stay there until the following Saturday.

The following Saturday we return to home town and he said he wants to go and stay at his parents place. He has an extra week’s holiday. I come back to Milan and go to work and the following weekend I go back down for the weekend and to pick him up and we return to Milan.

You may notice that the dogs are absent from the last paragraph.

I had thought that, maybe, I could leave the dogs with him – that was until he said he would like to stay at his parents’.

I had not mentioned my idea – but although Dino was really good on both car journeys last weekend and was not sick and drooled a lot less than normal, I didn’t fancy a couple of hours back to the home town and then another 2 or 3 hours to Milan. Dino, however good he may be, may struggle with that one.

But, as I say, my hopes were dashed, somewhat, when he said he would be staying with his parents. Luckily, I hadn’t said anything.

Back to his idea.

“Perhaps I could take the dogs for the week when you come back to Milan”, he said, continuing “but I’m worried about Rufus”.

His worry about Rufus (and there is another post coming up on him worrying, probably) is because Rufus is old and I know things that Rufus does that other people (actually only him) worry about but which are fine, really, because I know Rufus. When he does the teeth chattering thing, for example – it’s OK – I know why or, rather, I know the cause. So when F gets worried, I assure him it’s OK.

We need to see the other house that he and his brother owns. We aren’t stopping there not, as I thought, because the flat is not clean but rather because the garden is overgrown and, therefore, is full of mosquitoes and other parasites that might affect the dogs. I’m not overly worried – but I need to see it first. Perhaps next week.

I suggest that, if he would like, he can keep Dino and I just take Rufus with me since Dino and F have that special bond – they love each other so much.

I also suggest that it would be OK and I would take the dogs back with me because then he can have more of a relaxing holiday. The key (for me) is the other house. I need to see it to determine if I can allay his fears or if he is correct. Maybe next week.

Still, I’m glad that he came up with the suggestion and I thanked him for the idea. I also said that he shouldn’t worry about Rufus and, anyway, I was only a telephone call or text away and, if anything really bad happened, I could be there within a couple of hours.

They have two dogs.

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The differences between us and the Italians are many. I think we Brits like the idea of Italy so much because of these differences. They are little things; in themselves, of no importance but adding them together, there is a whole world waiting to be discovered or ready to trip up the unsuspecting ex-pat from the UK (and, probably, other places too).

Take one as an example. We have lunch – in the garden, in the gazebo, under the trees which are ten times the height of the small ‘holiday home’ but which help to lower the temperature to a very comfortable level. We spend nearly all the time in the garden. The dogs enjoy it and we enjoy it. We sit and chat (or, rather, they sit and chat – I sit and listen…mostly) or play cards or eat.

Lunch was what one would expect. Simple but beautiful food – slices of tomato with a slice of mozzarella on each, drizzled with good olive oil and sprinkled with parsley; slices of prosciutto and coppa; good bread and foccacia; lettuce leaves coated with the same olive oil – and my favourite – celery and parmigiana with some seasoning (I must find out what). All served with wine or beer and water, of course – siamo in Italia.

It wasn’t the meal that was different. Hell, in the UK we have similar, if not quite so good and fresh. No it was afterwards. And this bit I have never known happen in the UK – we got in the car to drive to a café for coffee! And, of course, not like you do it in the UK – it wasn’t a big thing in itself – we stood at the bar and drank it within a few minutes. The big thing was that it was run by the daughter of someone that F had gone to college with. But I’m not sure that’s the reason we went!

But we would never have gone out for coffee in the UK. It is strange but nice but always reminds me that I remain a stranger in a strange land.

Of course, no one knows that F is gay. Well, apart from his brother and sister-in-law. Oh and his sister (and, I presume, brother-in-law and nieces). But his parents ‘don’t know’, apparently.

So during the birthday lunch, his sister-in-law was talking to his sister. They were comparing animals.

“We’ve got two dogs and one cat and you have four cats”, she says, before adding “and they’ve got two dogs”.

F turns to me, excitedly, and says “You see, she said “they’ve got 2 dogs”” – meaning that everything was alright and everyone knows anyway, even his parents – which, of course, they do and on which I had very little doubt! And, also for him, the fact that he is included in the ‘ownership’ of the dogs is important. Which is fine by me!

Finally, we shall be going!

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Half-written posts about the UK – I will get round to posting something – maybe next week.

Anyway, it was great!

And, we talked about going to the home-town here. And now, this weekend, we are. Finally!

I am so excited about it. Also, I think, it is to sort out the problem with the shared flat and, maybe, means that we shall come to the flat for a few days before heading off to Umbria in a couple of weeks – another thing I’m looking forward to.

Normally, at this time of year, as I see the people packing up and leaving for their summer break, I don’t really think about it much except, perhaps, I’m looking forward to the beautifully quiet Milan. This time I’m thinking that we shall be doing the same and I am really looking forward to it. Even the driving is not a worry this year.

With Dino always having travel problems, we are going to cover the back of the car with a sheet and then he can drool and be sick all he likes.

To mitigate the problem there’ll be no food after tonight and we’ll see how it goes. It’s about a 2 to 3 hour drive and we’ll stop, at least once, on the way. Dino is fine when he does it often enough, it’s just the first time. In theory, the way back should be easier.

But this weekend, we shall be staying with Johnny Depp; meeting with the sister and the parents and, hopefully, meeting the best friend with whom I’ve spoken on Facebook. There will also be time at the beach and I will see how that goes – maybe it will be fine, being with F and all.

Still, it doesn’t really matter. I am just so excited to be going.

Some stuff

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I have had it sitting on my desk, with a stamp on, for weeks and weeks. To post it, it meant a trip down Via Castel Morrone to the post office. Post boxes, here, always seem in such short supply.

I keep meaning to do it. It’s not crucial. It’s the acceptance to the invitation to the wedding. The wedding is at the end of this month but they know we’re coming, so it’s not crucial.

But, apparently, the Bride’s mum likes getting them back and mine has an Italian stamp – so more exotic, I guess. And, anyway, the stamp’s used now so I might as well.

OK, I say to myself, I WILL go the the post office tonight.

I take the card from the desk and have it in my hand as I walk round the corner to the car. I will put it on the seat of the car to remind me to go there tonight.

As I walk round the corner, I almost bump into a post box! I never knew it was there. I walk past it nearly every day, sometimes twice a day and never noticed it before. We men are crap. As my mother used to say – we can’t see for looking.

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I don’t know whether he forgot it ‘on purpose’. I knew, that morning, that he wasn’t going to come. Sometimes, I think, I am beginning to understand him.

He gets up to his alarm. It is 7.30 a.m. I would like to stay in bed and would like to get more sleep but probably won’t. But Saturday and Sunday are the only two days I get to sleep in.

I get up to let him out and then go back to bed. But I know sleep won’t come now so get up anyway.

I see his phone. Hmmmm. I think to myself that it would be easier for him not to come tonight if he doesn’t have his phone. He could say that he needed to go and get it or that he couldn’t tell me what time he had come back or that he wasn’t sure whether we had gone somewhere else, etc, etc.

I go onto FB and chat to him. I tell him I have his phone. He says not to worry. I say I will bring it round. He says he will be fine without it. I say that if he doesn’t have it I cannot tell him where we go and what time, etc. I say I will bring it round shortly.

I take the dogs. After all, it is ‘cooler’ at this time. We walk the normal way. We go through an area between the trees in a quieter street. there are, usually, at night, a couple of homeless people, possibly of Asian descent, that sleep on a couple of benches. If they were there last night then they got up earlier. They are not there. I guess, that Sunday is much like any other day for them – possibly less people to beg off – if they beg.

But they are gone. In the distance, at the end of this patch of green and trees, on the end bench I see someone lying down, probably asleep.

As I approach the bench, I see at the side of it, the obligatory empty beer bottle. I think he may be the guy who I often see on that bench. The one who doesn’t seem to be homeless as he’s always sitting there, not sleeping there – as far as I knew.

As I approach with the dogs, the guy wakes up, or, at least, gets up. He looks homeless. He has a shirt and trousers but they do look like they have seen better days.

As we come aside the bench he reaches in his pocket and pulls out his mobile phone!

What?????

OK, so maybe not homeless after all – or someone who is homeless but rich enough to have a mobile phone?

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Dino has two, very annoying habits. He licks and he pulls on the lead. The licking (as I may have mentioned before) I can’t seem to stop. The pulling I can but it takes time.

And so, at least at the start of every walk he pulls and he’s quite a strong dog – about 25Kgs of solid muscle! I yank him back and make him walk beside me until he stops pulling.

But it couldn’t last forever.

His collar is a material (cotton) collar. It starts to break. So now, tonight, I have to go and buy a collar. First a bigger one as his neck is much thicker than Rufus’. Secondly a leather one as a leather one will last much longer!

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Update:
He didn’t come. He could have but he didn’t. I didn’t think he would.

I am walking home and I am tired. I phone him and it seems like he cut off the call. Maybe he’s asleep already. I text to say I am going home and then taking the dogs out and then going to bed as he seems asleep.

I get home. It seems he’s on Facebook. I chat to him that I tried to phone and that I have sent a text.

I take the dogs out. I come back and am having a quick glass of milk. He calls. The phone was on charge in the bathroom. He left the computer on. He was watching telly in the bedroom. Am I coming round, he asks. If you don’t mind, no, I reply. I am ready for bed. He says the phone did not say I had phoned.

Ah well, anyway, he seems to have bad nights with me or, maybe, because of the heat, I don’t know. Still, it does no harm for us to spend the occasional night apart – or is that wicked of me?

The cool places

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Well, Dino has found the coolest possible place in the flat. One where there are the most cold-water pipes, of course. The floor is much cooler there. He curls himself up between the toilet and the shower.

Normally, I don’t allow him in the bathroom but, right now, I would feel bad for kicking him out.

The thermometer on my desk reads 32. To be honest, I haven’t seen it drop much below that in the last few days. All the windows are open, trying to grasp every last bit of breeze. It has it’s disadvantages, of course. The main one being that the sirens from the main street (which I don’t even look onto) are very loud. And, poor Dino doesn’t like sirens. It must hurt his ears or something. He howls.

However, it’s not so often that they go past. I take the risk with the neighbours. I’m sure something will be said if it’s a problem. At least they don’t bark like some of the other canine occupants of our building.

I sweat. All the time. Showers give relief – but only for seconds. I’m not too bad if I don’t move. I’m fine if I move. It’s the stopping after I move that opens the floodgates and make it seem like I am in a shower. People don’t understand. But I have the same genes as my grandfather.

But this is, in every way, far better than being cold. This I can do. Being cold is a problem.

I go to Porta Venezia but phone F first. He was taking a walk to Corso Buenos Aires because he had the carpenter in. F is in Feltrinelli – a book shop that also sells DVDs and CDs. He will be buying CDs, I expect. His flat looks like a CD shop as it is. But it’s his passion, so that’s OK by me and, anyway, he can afford it.

I meet him inside. It is lovely after the heat of the morning outside. Very cool. He can’t find a CD that he wants. He has most of them.

“I can’t find a punk CD”, he says. I wonder why because punk music doesn’t really seem his thing. He finds a compilation of punk. I suppose it is for his DJ stuff that he does. He will probably mix it with something.

I suggest something to eat and also that I do something for tonight. He agrees, sort of.

He asks where we should go. I suggest a café just off Corso Buenos Aires. We go. It’s OK. It’s quiet as it’s off the main street. We sit outside and have salads. I then go to get fags and do some shopping.

By the time I get in the lift, I am starting to resemble Niagara Falls.

But it’s OK for me. I go straight out again to get a water melon and some milk, not having wanted to traipse them all the way back from the other supermarket but from the one near me instead.

I put on the last wash. The temperature at my desk is still 32 but it is much, much hotter outside and we have, from time to time, a slight breeze.

I will do some ironing and some tidying up and then prepare food for tonight. I will do some work, maybe. Tomorrow nothing will be done.

Tomorrow (Sunday) is Wimbledon at the 442 with friends. F will be working. Maybe he will meet us later at the Leon D’Oro. I hope so.

Going or not going? More importantly, why?

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“you know, other things ……..work, house, you, the babies :-)”

I can be a disingenuous sometimes, it’s true. Of course I knew the list included me and the babies. When I said that I wasn’t sure this morning, when he asked if he should go, I was hoping and wanting him to say this. Even if, last night, he was a bit concerned when I told him that I may not be able to get the ‘sitter’ for the dogs and, so, maybe wouldn’t come. He suggested that I could come on just the Sunday. I said we’ll see. No, he doesn’t want to go unless I am coming or following behind. But this morning I said that he should go. He needs to see his parents and has, probably, promised his best friend. Or, rather, nearly promised.

Still, we all need confirmation about the feelings of those around us, from time to time, don’t we?

And so he isn’t going. And, so, I’m not going either. There will be another time. It would be so much easier if we could use his house. Then we could take the dogs and all would be fine. Let’s hope it becomes free soon.

Inevitable

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It’s started. No, it had started some time ago but now it’s more. It’s difficult to get up. Getting up requires help. It was inevitable but just as I thought that, maybe, I had got it wrong and there was a long time to go, it hits and makes me sad.

As I say, it was inevitable. Still……..

Of course, it doesn’t help that the floor gives no grip. F realises this. He jokes that Dino can come to his place and I can stay with Rufus at mine. Later he says that he might get a large piece of the stuff they put under carpets here to stop them slipping – a sort of mesh thing. I think he will. Before that he had said that we would have to spend much more time at my place.

I picked the place because of the dogs but didn’t realise that the floors would be quite so good. They have a roughness that allows grip – not shiny wooden or marble floors which offer none.

So I help him to his feet. He will get used to this. I will do it for as long as it needs to be done, the only worrying thing for me will be that he may be in actual pain. I hope not but, of course, he cannot actually say. I can’t remember how long after the falling down bit it was before Ben died.

He’s OK when moving – stumbling a bit from time to time now but OK. Ben was much worse. F suggested that we have to keep them apart a bit now. “Why?”, I asked. “Because he will miss him when he’s gone”, he said. And, so, he wants him to get used to it now.

I don’t know how long it will be. Maybe months; maybe many, many months. It only happened the one night. The next day he got much better and now seems OK. But it will happen again. I’ve seen it before.

It’s still sad, even if you know it’s coming.

Missing me; Tuscany, maybe?; Weather in Italy – when to have a holiday; In hot water; This blog

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“Looking forward to seeing you and the babies”

It hasn’t been that long.

“We are still in the restaurant, eating outside. I imagine our holidays – with the babies”

I take them out of order and, probably out of context. It’s my blog and I can do what I want.

In fact, it is only since 5.45 this morning when I got up and left him to wake up more slowly. But he was getting up at 6 anyway. He was going to the store near Venice.

It is hot and sunny there and cooler and more rainy here. But the rain will pass. And, for our holidays, I hope it is not like other years and remains hot and sunny, even if it is the third week in August – not the best week for being on holiday here, in my experience.

In fact, if you wanted my advice, holidays in the Northern part of Italy should be taken in July for the hottest, sunniest weather, with June and September cooler (but still hot) but more risky for rainy days. August, around the 15th, is almost guaranteed rain!

But I did notice that, in the message I put at the start, I was mentioned first. I also realised that he is, really, really looking forward to going away with the dogs (and me).

He has an idea for Tuscany (this is NOT the holiday). The problem is the dogs (or the babies, as you will). His parents place means that we sleep in two very small rooms and he is concerned because they go to bed early (and are up early – which all sounds good to me) but (and I more than agree with him) it’s not so easy with the dogs. The flat, which he shares with his brother, is currently being used by some cousin or something.

I don’t know how many times I have to say that I was only joking (even if the reality was that I was only half-joking). His plan is that he goes down on the Friday and I follow Saturday afternoon. Then I stay Saturday night and I (or, maybe we) come back on Sunday.

“I want you to come to C”, he says. And I really think he does. And I don’t want to take the dogs to his parents. at least, not until they know me better or something. Gentle introductions are required here, I think. Even if they will never know who I really am and are unlikely to with the language barrier.

However, he is thinking of doing this in the next couple of weeks. Let’s see. With him, I can’t get too excited lest it doesn’t happen. His mind is still unfathomable to me. I know he thinks about things a lot but what actually goes on in his head is just impossible and I can’t follow his logic (if there is any) (and that’s after my advice to Lola earlier this afternoon hahahaha).

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We expect things to work and we certainly take things for granted. Yesterday, in my head, I was looking forward to the shower I was going to have.

Except after nearly three hours, the three men went away, leaving me with a brand, spanking, new boiler …………. which didn’t work!

Another guy came today to fix it. It took him a while but he has done it. It was a blockage!!  As I said to someone at work, today.  I had one guy to carry things, one guy to fit the boiler and one guy to watch them do it.  Now, I could add – and one guy to make it actually work!

So I went to lie down for a bit and then I heard the sound of someone coming in. It was my cleaner guy. Since he had to leave early yesterday (no water) he was going to add hours next Wednesday. Instead, he chose to come and do the ironing today.

So, tonight I have a long, hot shower AND I have all my shirts ironed.

Cool, if you see what I mean.

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Today, I was recounting the story of how F & I met. The girl, A, thought it was a lovely story. Of course, my blog allows me to recount the circumstances in more detail than I would ever remember and for which I am grateful. She also wanted to know how it was to be gay; when did I know?; what about girls?, etc. I explained. I have nothing to hide. She was a bit shocked but then, in this country, there is an unawareness about it all that still surprises me. I wondered if this is what it is like in most of the world. I am truly grateful that I was born and brought up in the UK.

But back to the blog. I’m not sure that I always say all of the really important things but I think I was, mostly, faithful with my recounting the story, since it was written at the time. It makes me wonder, if, in a few years time, some of the essence of the whole thing will be gone from the blog. It’s not really a diary, is it? It’s more a collection of random thoughts and random happenings in my life. Some things are deliberately missed (for various reasons); some things omitted by accident.