Tomorrow – will the Daily Hate Mail have won?

I do my best but it’s difficult.

After years of crisis and depletion in spending power and savings, someone HAS to be to blame.

The popular newspapers have done their very best to pin the blame on a number of people which include those who are not working (the difference between not wanting to work and being unable to work is rarely made – and, anyway, the point is that “these people are taking your money for doing nothing”), people who are stealing from the system (often rolled into the previous group – at least by implication) and immigrants (illegal or legal).

In particular, they’ve being doing this, more or less, since 2008. That’s six years of propaganda. And six years of constantly pounding people with the same stuff has an effect.

Then, along comes the UKIP. Now, I’m unsure if the media want the UKIP or not. Certainly, they’ve being helping the three main parties to sling as much mud at them as possible. They have been effectively dubbed the “Loony party.”

However, there’s a major problem. In spite of the media and other parties attempts to discredit them, they ARE, in fact, repeating a lot of what those popular newspapers have been saying for all these years. This includes stopping immigration, removing the EU red-tape and making sure everyone pays his/her way. They repeat, for the most part, the headlines of the last six years and, because people have been reading about it for so long, it all makes perfect sense.

After World War I, The Germans went for similar rhetoric. Instead of blaming the huge debts that Germany was having to repay on both the other nations that were enforcing it and the government and its policies, they took the easy option of blaming the Jews. And we all know how that ended up.

And yet, it seems that the “how” of that happening has been lost and forgotten. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not drawing a direct comparison between the UKIP and the Nazis – the UKIP haven’t yet been talking about a “final solution”. But, there are similarities, don’t you think?

Even here, talking with colleagues and friends, there is a feeling that “immigrants” are to blame, especially the illegal immigrants. I point out that, without these immigrants, there would be no badante (private carers) to look after the increasingly aged population, since Italians don’t want to this type of work. But you can see I don’t make any real impact.

And, to be honest, it scares me. the problem is that I DO understand to some extent. The illegal immigrants that try to sell you a rose or some trinket or novelty lighter – sometimes one every five minutes – when you’re having a drink with friends outside a bar. It’s more than annoying. I point out that the problem is that “people” buy the roses. F, for instance, will, occasionally buy a novelty lighter. And so they continue to ply their wares. If you don’t want them here, annoying the hell out of you, DON’T buy anything from them and don’t give them money!

As I’ve always said, just like “charity begins at home”, look at your and your friends’ actions – THAT’S often the reason these people are here, still; still trying to sell you stuff you don’t need nor want.

And, since I’m an immigrant here, remember, when you say you agree with sending the immigrants home, that would include me! And I want to stay here, if you don’t mind.

So, we shall see what will happen tomorrow for the UKIP. I hope they don’t get the huge support that is being suggested. I fear, unfortunately, that they will. Their simple messages coinciding with the messages that have been fed to the populace over the last few years.

Bloody frightening.

On [the] edge

I don’t really understand. Why DO I feel like this? On every previous occasion there’s been so much excitement that any doubts I may have, have been so hidden as to not be relevant. And yet, in this case, the feeling of nervousness is so strong.

There IS excitement. There is a vision of how much better everything will be; a knowledge that things will be more comfortable, more enjoyable, more settled. Everyone will be so much happier, after all.

Well, that is, everyone but me. It’s not that I won’t be happy. I’m sure I will, I tell myself. But, there’s the rub. I have to keep telling myself. And, that in itself is worrying.

But we’ve reached the point of no return. The brink. The edge. The no-going-back place.

So, on Friday evening, F told me that he’d found someone to rent his flat. From the first of June.

I cannot correctly describe the panic that swept over me at that news.

So, this is REALLY it. From the first of June, he HAS to move. The new place won’t even be ready, of course.

I thought, “but what will he do? Where will he live?”

Of course, we shall carry on as normal, except that most of his stuff will be in the new flat, I guess. Or being moved there slowly, bit by bit. And he’ll sleep at my place – so it will be almost as normal, then.

Except, not quite. Not quite because it’s really happening, this move. It’s no longer just talk, it’s for real.

So, why this feeling? It doesn’t make sense to me really. There’s no really good excuse for it. As people keep pointing out, we virtually live together anyway. So, almost nothing will change – again, as pointed out. And, whereas that’s all perfectly correct and, logically, i know it to be true, somehow it IS different in ways that I am unable to convincingly explain.

Saturday, we went off to see the sofa place to look at fabric for new covers. Luckily, I really like the colour that he loves and, even if it will be more difficult to match with other things, it is the right choice. Today he will be doing sketches of different things we can do (so that it won’t be too samey) – don’t you just LOVE having a partner who can do this type of thing?

I also found my way to the second-hand shop where I bought my dining table to look at doors – but it was closed. Maybe we’ll try again next Saturday or, even, Sunday.

So here we are, on the edge. And me, on edge!

Invitations

Well tomorrow, we were invited to go on some yacht sailing off the Ligurian coast, no doubt drinking champagne and eating fabulous food.

And Sunday we were invited to Udine to some party and stay the night.

Instead, tomorrow we shall be going to some place to choose fabric for the three-piece suite (and the the second-hand shop to look for doors, I hope) and Sunday we shall be sorting things out before moving.

The contract will be talked about today and, probably, we shall sign it next week.

Or that is the plan.

And, in the meantime, I am still as busy as hell.

So I’ll leave you now.

Have a good weekend.

An aircraft story

I’m sitting at the back of an aircraft. A big one, like a 747 or something.

It’s quite hot. The stewardess offers to open the back for me. There’s a curtain to keep the “draught” off my back. She’s right, it’s much cooler. Effectively the back of the plane is on a hinge. the curtain does not flap but moves slightly as if in a very slight breeze.

The absurdity of this does not pass me by. I wonder at how amazing it is that, at whatever altitude we are flying at that moment, unlike all the films, I am not sucked out of the back of the plane.

We are coming in to land and, for some reason, I walk down the plane and into the cockpit. The pilots are laughing and joking with each other and, generally, having a good time.

I notice something that they have failed to notice and so, I point it out to them.

But they react too slowly and sure enough, the next thing is that we hit the back of the plane in front, on the runway, which forces it to hit the one in front, and so on.

I fly through the air, backwards, as if lying on a magic carpet, whilst, in front of me, where I have just come from, the plane is crumpling up.

It is a race to see if I will make it out of the back “door” by this flying I am doing or whether the crumpling plane will catch up with me before I make it out.

And, to that, we will never know the answer.

I wake up.

And so it begins ……

We should have done it at the weekend but, somehow, never got round to it. Plus I was really busy all weekend with various things, including a problem I am having with a website.

So, last night, once I had finished working, we met in the local bar for a beer and to go over the draft contract.

That morning, someone had visited to talk about recovering the three-piece suite, footstool, dining chairs and the armchairs we use in my kitchen. The price was high but it’s OK. We’ll get at least two sets of covers for the three-piece suite, which would be fantastic.

And then we go through the contract and make comments and he will ask for some clarifications and changes.

And then he told me what clothes he had bought that day.

“We can share things,” he says. Hmmm.

He then “complained” about the fact that I have more wardrobe space but less clothes.

“I will organise your wardrobe.” I smiled but in my head I’m screaming “WHAT?”

You have to imagine a wardrobe (his) which looks like a shop – everything neatly folded or hung, colours matched – everything in its place and a place for everything. My wardrobe is not “quite” like that.

All I could think was – and so it begins!

A rabbit frozen in the headlights of an oncoming car. What happens next?

I admit it, I have a problem.

My problem is simple. When there are too many things to do and some of them are difficult to do, I enter a state of inaction.

I am here now.

It’s even quite difficult to write this post and I’ve been considering it for about half an hour.

I know the solution. The solution is to start something. But the starting is difficult because all the other things needing my attention are crowding my brain and won’t allow me to think straight on one thing.

I try very hard to put all the other things out of my mind. But they sneak back in, uncalled for, unwanted. And, before i know it, they are clamouring to be first, to be THE one, pushing aside the actual one – the one that I’m doing.

Take tomorrow. I have many things to do (aside from the things that will roll over from today – and trust me, there will be a few of them because each of those are also difficult). Some of the things for tomorrow, must be done in the morning. I can’t leave them because, possibly, next weekend, will be full. And by full I mean some yacht cruise thing on Saturday and then a trip to Udine for Sunday and Monday. Maybe. But I have to assume that F will say “yes” to those invitations. And so, the things that must be done tomorrow morning MUST be done. And then there is the afternoon where I have promised to help someone. And I shall probably have to help that someone on Sunday too. That’s fixed in that they will arrive at my place so I can’t put it off.

And, then there are the roll-over things from today plus the things that I should be doing this weekend as well, such as packing, brushing the dogs, supermarket shopping, laundry, etc., etc. In addition to which, there should be the sorting out of stuff prior to moving.

And the main thing that I’m supposed to be doing today is really difficult because I don’t have the answer and must find it. I’ve already tried several things that I’ve found but with no success which means delving deeper and trying to find different solutions. So, it’s a bugger really.

Not helped by my feeling like a rabbit frozen in front of the headlights of an oncoming car – knowing I must move but being unable to do so.

Add to this that the weather is quite nice now which is making me think of dog walking and beers at cafés and it’s not the recipe for success!

So, having written this, I will now start to try and do one of the many things to do.

Wish me luck!

Moving forward, slowly, slowly

Well, I suppose I’d better give a bit of an update whilst I’m waiting for our IT guy to update my Java thing and wait for the download of a website that’s been hacked which, I sincerely hope, I can then fix.

So, our final offer was accepted.

Tomorrow, F will go and get a draft version of the contract and we’ll look at it this weekend. Or, rather, he’ll look at it since it will be in Italian.

So, I’m guessing, next week we will sign and agree a date to move in (which will be either the end of June or the end of July, I think).

There will be lots to do and, probably, there will be no trips down to Carrara until after we move in which is a bit of a shame but it’s OK.

Also, on Friday, a guy will come to talk about recovering the sofas and chairs.

And I have to sort out my clocks.

And clear loads of things out before moving. And I’m incredibly busy with lessons, editing and other things in the meantime, so less time to do things and relax.

It’s all good fun, probably, isn’t it? Certainly, no time to worry about what it’ll be like AFTER we move, which is, absolutely, a good thing.

Still, one thing at a time ……

Visits are like breeding rabbits.

So, as far as it goes, The Visit number 2 was OK. In fact, in the end, I did The Visit number 2 and The Visit number 3, since The first Visit had spawned 2 other Visits.

Overall, so far and touch wood, everything is fine. In fact, it’s all too fine.

As a result, I am now required to go on another FOUR Visits!!

FFS!

I think the theory being worked on here is that there SHOULD be something and they will go to extraordinary lengths to find this something.

When I say “they”, I mean “they” want “me” to do Visits (and pay even more money).

On the other hand, the “too fine” bit meant that, apparently, I am one of very few very, VERY lucky people in the world. So I was told. And that’s a problem. Apparently.

And so, 1 Visit leads to 2 more Visits which leads to 4 more visits.

Anyone spot a pattern here?

Is one of the new Visits going to result in another 8 Visits? God, I hope not. This is too stressful for me.

My worry is kept hidden, of course, except from you, my dearest reader. I am, during these Visits, at my most charming and am able to happily (on the face of it) chat and laugh and cause others to laugh. My favourite joke is that I am giving them a free English lesson too!

But, it is no laughing matter. At least, not for me.

Visit number 4 now takes place tomorrow. This is the one that (I’m sure) the person at my Visit number 3 “hopes” will provide something – otherwise, it’s just not fair. Which, I guess, is true.

But this multiplication of further Visits is exactly the reason why I never really wanted to go on the first Visit.

Bloody people.

The Visit, part II

There is another.

It is tomorrow.

I am not looking forward to this. I had a dream about it last night. It’s been “off” (well, almost) my mind due to the visit to the far-off country and then holidays. But tomorrow is the day. The worrying makes it worse. My dream was much worse. It’s one of my “nightmare scenarios” from way back.

My hands are already quite sweaty and I’m finding it hard to concentrate on things.

I’m TRYING to concentrate on other things because I know that my fears are unfounded.

Or, at least, I really hope they are.

Oh, well, I will either survive or I won’t, so to speak.

These last few weeks are turning into a bit of a roller-coaster, aren’t they? Or, rather, they are, in my twisted, screwed-up mind.

Sometimes, I wonder if I’m just a little crazy, you know?

What is a camp hotel anyway? The best birthday present.

It wasn’t on purpose; I swear I had no idea but I managed to book us into the campest hotel I’ve ever been to in my life!

I should have had the idea when looking at the rooms over the Internet. They were, shall we say, Gothic, elaborate and immensely over-the-top. That was in the pictures. In real life, more so.

They did “dark”. The walls were black, the lighting subdued and yet, in the bedrooms, the lights by the side of the bed seemed to have come straight from Liberace’s house. Still, comfortable rooms, once you got used to the darkness of everything.

They offered us a drink, on the house, whilst we waited for the receptionist. We sat outside in the “garden” at the rear. The waiter was ever-so-slightly “gay”. The next table had a couple of ever-so-slightly gay people. And, of course, when I say “ever-so-slightly”, I mean really camp. It seemed like the whole place was heaving with gay people or that I had booked into an exclusively gay hotel!

And, as many of you who read my blog know, that’s not really my “cup of tea”.

However, the hotel was nice, the breakfasts (for me), reasonable, the bed comfortable and the position was good.

I say “good” except for one thing. It was under the flight path from the airport and they didn’t have double glazing and so at dark o’clock the next morning, I was woken up by aircraft accelerating out of the country. More or less, where I wanted to be.

But this particular morning was my birthday. And I wasn’t at home.

Of course, F texted me and then texted me later to tell me that we have got the flat! So that was nice. Well, nice and slightly terrifying too, as you know.

So, now, lots of things will have to be done and organised. I don’t mind that but, still, unlike other moves I’ve made, many more things must be sorted and many things thrown away or got rid of. I guess the next couple of months will be really, really busy!

And, then, of course, there will be the “living together”. But, I’m sure it will all be OK, more or less.

Won’t it?