Tag Archives: Food

Giacomo

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Giacomo is not some guy (or, rather, he may be/have been) but a restaurant in Milan.  Not far from me, between Porta Venezia and Porta Romano at Via Sottocorno 5-6.

It had all the ‘look’. There was a serenity about it, partly because of the green, sort of chalkish but a bit darker, wooden half-panels on the walls, the fans on the ceiling, the ambiance, the waiters with their long aprons, reminding one of bygone days.

The food was superb. One of the best fish restaurants in Milan, F said. I had soup – mussels and clams – to start with and then the cod with a loose crunchy crust and saffron sauce (hollandaise). We had some deep fried courgette flowers and courgettes to accompany the main course.  F had the mixed raw fish starter (which was divine) and then the seared tuna with a really strong, sweet caper sauce.

I don’t know what the wine was. F chose it. It was his birthday, after all.

And, just the two of us.

The only thing that let it down a bit was the service – although excellent and attentive, the staff kept on leaning over me to get stuff off the table.  Of course, being in Italy, there’s no soft light in the restaurant – people prefer to see what they’re eating – but it wasn’t as harsh as you normally have.

The clientele were mixed but I did hear a lot of foreign voices.  This is, after all, not cheap.  I don’t know how much it was for the two of us (the rule here is that, if it’s your birthday, then you pay) but the starters were about 18 Euro and the main courses about 25+, so, with wine and dessert (F had a chocolate bombe which was to die for) it would have been upward of 75 Euro per head.  However, a must if you’re here and don’t want to worry about the price.

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.

La Belle Aurore – great bar and great lunchtime food.

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For the first time, I ate in the La Belle Aurora Café in Via Abamonti on the corner with Via Castel Morrone.

F left the house early and, because I would have had to get up to lock the door, finally, he took one of the keys.  I told him to and he said no and I said that if he didn’t I would have to get up – and so he did!  Hurrah!  And now all I need to do is get another front door key and give that to him!

Anyway, he got up early because IKEA were delivering some units for the new flat.  And then, after, I went over and helped him put them up.  We finished about 1.30 and went for lunch.  The other day we had happened in La Belle Aurora for a very late breakfast and they were serving lunch, which also smelt good.  So today, as the café is, sort of, about halfway between his place and mine, we went there.

F had a risotto with peas and asparagus (which I tasted and it was really good) and I had roast pork with an orange sauce and puree (mashed potato to you folks not in Italy).  We also had a German beer which I forget the name of.  The food, limited to a single primo and single secondo, was excellent.  The whole lot came to less than 15 Euro.  Unfortunately, I’m pretty sure they only do food at lunchtimes but for those of you who visit Milan and go to Il Salvagente (the oldest outlet store in Milan), it’s worth a walk up there should you want a break at lunchtime.  Alternatively, if you’re seeing or staying with me, we should definitely go as it’s less than 10 minutes from my home.

This café/bar has a wonderful atmosphere.  It feels kinda French.  The tables and chairs are old, wooden and have seen better days but that is all part of it’s charm.  The staff were good (as they always are).  I was struck by the crowd of people.  They were a mixture but you had the feel of being on the left bank of the Seine rather than downtown Milan – like they really could be writers, artistes or intellectuals.

I’ve always liked this bar.  And the food did not disappoint. In fact it was all rather good and very tasty.

Whilst we were putting up the units, we finally decided that we would spend the New Year alone, at my place, even if we have had several offers for parties and dinners.  F said that he would ‘really like if it were just the two of us, with the dogs.  And, so would I.  But it was still nice to hear him say it.

Last night, whilst we were at his place having dinner and he was on the phone, between courses, I looked at him and thought how really cool and sexy he was and what an overall nice guy he is and, therefore, how lucky I was to have ended up with him.

And now it’s taken for granted that we spend the nights together (the only discussion being about where), except for certain situations (like he’s away, etc.) and I like that we have slipped easily into this routine and that it feels warm and comfortable and I’m pretty sure he feels the same.

And, every day that I am with him, I am truly grateful for how my life can be so good.

I go Christmas Shopping (finally)

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Milan is Milan.  It is raining in the way that I have only really experienced here.  Heavy, wet, miserable.

And, yet, it’s not for me.  There is a sea of waving umbrellas.  Waving because as the people move to and fro, they have to move their umbrellas.  The rain is unforgiving.  I move through the people with a lot of serenity.  I have decided that THIS, this moment, this time, is the best for Christmas.  I left the house at 5 p.m.  The streets are crowded but not too bad.  Partly it is the weather, partly because, this evening is the big dinner for the Italians, so what the hell would they be doing out of their house except to be getting ready to go or actually going to friends or relatives?

We, too, shall be going to friends for dinner.  It is R’s birthday.

I don’t know them well enough and, so, have made his favourite English desert – Lemon Meringue Pie – as a kind of present (although F & I are giving him something, as a joint present, chosen by F, of course).  I started to get everything ready earlier.  And then I realised I had a small problem.  I had no scales.  No means of weighing anything!  And, for me, I can only do recipes with exact measurements.

>But I had no time to go and find scales and so I guessed.  It seems OK, but I really hope it is.  We shall see and I shall let you know.  It’s the pastry that worries me the most.  And that is usually something I do really well.

So, back to where I was.  In Corso Buenos Aires, with only the vaguest of ideas as to what to buy my loved one, who I have not known for long enough to be able to get certain things.  I walk, calmly up the street.  Not hurrying but not idling either. The rain, straight down, as Milan rain is.

My first shop is a disaster.  I thought they would have scented candles but, no!  Still, I have about an hour.  I should be able to find the stuff I need in that time.

I love it.  The place is almost busy but the tills are almost empty.  It’s a fabulous time to be doing Christmas shopping.  I thought it was only for V because V was easy and I could walk into shops and know, within seconds, if there was anything that was suitable.  But I find that this is not so difficult.  I am limited only in what I can buy, but what I can buy there is enough of and so choosing is not so difficult.

I find everything that I had thought of whilst walking.  They’re not big things and some are not at all expensive (downright cheap, actually) but perfect – or, as perfect as they can be.

I am happy.  It is the only bit of Christmas shopping I have done but I think I might do this every year!

I go to the supermarket for (I think) one last thing.  F calls me.  He wants to change the arrangements.  He thinks (and he is right) it will be easier to stay at mine tonight.  That’s what we’re going to do.  This makes it easier for me and gives me this chance to enjoy a hot cup of Tetley’s tea before showering and getting ready.  On the way back from the supermarket I go, on the off chance, to a shop to buy the perfect, small, irrelevant but perfect gift.  Yep, this was the best way of shopping for Christmas.  And without any stress or hassle.

I have to wrap the presents in a moment but that won’t take long either.  I hope he likes the things even if some of them are quite stupid.  Still, they were bought with love.

I have decided I will call V tomorrow.  Just to wish him Happy Christmas after our exchange of emails today.  I think I owe him that.  And, maybe, to find out how his Yorkshire Puddings turned out – I had sent the recipe by email, since I have the cookbook it was in.

But that is an aside, since, really, this Christmas belongs to F.  Well, for me anyway.  And, I very much hope, for him too.

Special all the same.

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In spite of the snow, the Christmas lights along Corso Buenos Aires, the Christmas decorations in the shop windows, the milling and rushing of shoppers buying their gifts, etc., it really doesn’t feel like Christmas to me.

Sure, I can talk about it here, at work, but I am struck by how unexcited I am.  OK that’s been more or less true for the last few years, I suppose.  This year, I have some excuse.  We’ve been together for too short a time to really be able to plan, to decide on things, to build up to Christmas.

I’m not sure what to expect; I don’t know how it should be; I can’t impose my Christmas (not that I want to impose it anyway) and we’re in a different country with different ideas about how it should be, sort of.

We did talk last night, a little, about Christmas Day and New year and so on.  He was talking about decorating the table for Christmas Lunch.  Anyway, this sort of thing was always V rather than me, so from that point of view, it will be much the same.  However, there’s been a lack of involvement from me in the lead up to this year’s Christmas.

It’s not that I’ve wanted to be uninvolved.  It’s just that I’ve not known exactly how it would be or what we would do, other than being together.

Last night I told him I’d bought Brussels sprouts – even if I know he won’t eat them.  He understood why.  This morning, my colleague, S, said that she had seen Nigella Lawson on the TV (I had told her about NL) and that she had done some strange things – like Bread Sauce.  Which made me think that I should do Bread Sauce anyway, as I love it – even if he won’t like it because, even if I love it, most people don’t.

I might even make the usual white sauce although this will be with panettone rather than Christmas Pudding.  Maybe I’ll suggest it?  It’s an alternative to cream or ice cream and will make the Christmas lunch just a little more like Christmas for me.

He’s planned some films that we could watch.  And, since we both like films, it could be good.  One film he said he had chosen we could watch in either Italian with English subtitles or English with Italian subtitles.

He suggested that we could spend New Year with some of my friends.  He doesn’t want to do the New Year that has been planned by his friends.  Really, I would like to do ‘something’ but I’m really not sure as I really like when we are together.  But, of course, that’s because it’s all too new.

This morning, as I left the house he asked if I had remembered the keys and would I lock the door on my way out.  Later, on FB chat, he asked if we were spending tonight at his or mine.  I replied that I would prefer mine as tomorrow night we will be at his.  He said OK.  It’s sometimes very easy.  It’s often, very comfortable.  It’s always very nice.

I am looking forward to Christmas even if, at the moment it all seems a little at arms length.  This comes, in part, of not having any history to go with it.  But, then, it’s the first and, so, will be special all the same.

The start of many more?

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I am thawing out.  Everything is wet, especially the dogs which, in turn, means all the floors are wet.  The snow, outside, is starting to turn that mucky brown, as it does in the cities and on the roads.  The park, though, was white and although there had been many people, it still retained it picture-postcard (or should I say, Christmas Card) look.

Dino loved it.  Running through the now, jumping, playing, shoving his nose in it and coming up sneezing and coughing, or similar.  Rufus, although OK with it, has the problem of ice balls forming under his feet and there was a heart-stopping moment on the way back.

We had come out of the park and started to cross the road, where there was no snow.  The ice balls, although small, meant that he couldn’t walk properly.  At one point he just stopped and lay down on the ground, head on the floor and wouldn’t move.  For just a moment I wondered if this was it.  I cleared his paws but he wasn’t moving.  All limp and somewhat dejected.  I picked him up and got him in a sitting position and rubbed his paws again.  This time he was prepared to move but not entirely happy about it.  Still we made it home and he seems OK.  I spoke to F about it later and he said that, perhaps, it was time to take them out separately, which may be true although not entirely a pleasant thought.

Last night, having got home really late, about 8, because of the snow and the traffic, which was, at times, gridlocked in the centre of Milan, I had a shower and took them out, the snow falling thick and fast and then went up to F’s place as had been planned.  F, in the end, didn’t go to his Christmas meals because of the snow.

I walked up the street, umbrella in one hand, trying to stop my bag falling off my shoulder, smoking a cigarette and then a text message came through.  It was FfI who, not a genius with technology, didn’t seem to realise that, although my Skype account showed I was at home, I wasn’t actually there.  So I texted back with gloved hands something that I hoped she would understand.  She didn’t.  Several more text messages came through.  I ignored them since I wasn’t going to take my gloves off and texting was impossible if I didn’t.  The place had that weird silence.  The few cars that were braving the snow were muffled as they drove along the streets, the engines almost quiet and the only real sound was the sort of crunching, scrunching sound as their tyres fought to get a grip on the snow covered streets.  It was magical and beautiful and, anyway, I was on my way to be with F.

I passed the cinema and thought, briefly, what a good night to go it would be.  Especially to see A Christmas Carol, perhaps.  There would be hardly anyone there and it would be nice to have the cinema almost to ourselves.  And then, come out to this magical world.  Another time, I thought.

By the time I had got to F’s place she had already sent him a message asking me to phone her.  I texted her.  Thinking about it as I write this, it was nice of her to be worried but she a) knew I was going to F’s place and b) knows (although she doesn’t seem to get it) that I leave my computer on 24/7 so sometimes it looks like I’m there when I’m not.  I’m kinda glad she shows concern but, really, you’d think that by now she would understand.

When I got to F’s flat, this time, of course, I could let myself in.  I placed the keys on the side and told him I had left them.  He took them back but then gave me the real spare set and said I should have those.  I smiled, inside.  even if it’s only for a short while, it’s nice to have the trust in me and nice that these little things show that this relationship continues.  Continues to grow and be stronger.

In the end we decided that, maybe, I shouldn’t go to work today.  I set my alarm for slightly later than normal.  I got up with alarm.  The snow had stopped but it was deep and curling up with F seemed so much of a better idea, that’s what I did.  We got up several hours later, went down and had breakfast and he went to his new flat whilst I went home to take the dogs out.

Before I took them out, I Skyped with Best Mate.  She is planning to come over in January.  Of course, it’s a crazy time to come here, especially if the weather is like this but I am so looking forward to it anyway and, more importantly than anything else, she gets to meet F.

And now, I go to La Rinascente.  I need to get a flan ring to do Lemon Meringue Pie for Christmas Eve and look at the prices of 25-year-old Balsamic Vinegar for an old mate.  On the way back, I shall stop at Esselunga and, hopefully pick up a Faraona (Guinea Fowl to us) which, even though F won’t eat Goose, he will eat.  Don’t see much of a difference myself but whatever makes him happy.  Our Christmas Day lunch will be Lasagne, Faraona with carrots and roast potatoes followed by the Milanese Christmas Cake – Panettone.

It will be lovely – and, mainly because we shall be together.  Our first Christmas.  And I hope the start of many, many more :-)

I love the fact that he loves me too.

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It read -3°.  This was nearly mid-day.  WTF?

I was going out because I had promised.  And because it would be nice to see L before Christmas and because it was a park I hadn’t been to before.  When I texted, some 15 minutes after we were supposed to meet I had been half hoping that she would say it was too cold or too much to take the cars or whatever.

She didn’t.  I realised I had forgotten to put on my thermal socks and knew I would suffer as a result.

The park was lovely.  We had had a few centimetres of snow and the trees and ground had that festive feel.  I just felt cold, even if it was pretty.  We walked and talked.  We don’t seem to run out of conversation and, yet, I never feel as if she will be one of my best friends.  I wonder why that is?  Maybe because we met at her friend’s party in the summer, also L (although different – so L2) and L2 and I, introduced through N, never really hit it off.  I mean, we are cordial to each other but there’s this thing between us.  I think we both realise that we don’t like each other, not that there’s a good reason why, but we both know to avoid each other after the required greetings.

However, L & I did hit it off.  We have dogs in common.  But, also, for some reason, we don’t run out of things to say.  So, here we are, in the park, which, being slightly on the edge of Milan is probably around -5°, talking and walking the dogs – my two and the two that really belong to her boyfriend, D.

I ask her about the ‘not moving in together’ thing.  They have good reason as children are involved but we both also know it is an Italian thing.  But, at least I’ve told someone here, other than F himself.  And she understood me, her being American.

We spoke about carols (see the previous post) and she agreed with me. In fact, D had never heard of them until he met her. She said she had toyed with asking me to the Milan Anglican Church Christmas Carol Service last Sunday. I wish she had. It would have been nice for a change.

By the end of the walk, my feet (and most everything else but particularly my feet) felt like they are made of ice.  My mouth had stopped working properly, being unable to correctly form the words I’m trying to say.  Although it had been a nice walk there is nowhere to go for coffee and it means driving somewhere back into town and then there are the dogs and what to do with them and so we decide to skip it.

I get back home and spend a few minutes trying to thaw out.  When F left this morning to go to the new flat to carry on with the painting, I had agreed to bring him a panino later after going back to his flat to switch on the heating.  And, now, as L and I had left late and walked longer than I had thought we would, I am rushing.  Rushing to go to his flat to turn on the heat (rushing so much that I left my flat and had locked the door before I realised that I didn’t have the bag I was taking back for him nor, in fact, the keys to get in), taking the metro to Porta Venezia to get cigarettes for both of us, going to the supermarket to buy essential stuff together with a pack of four Ferrero Rocher, because I know he likes them.  It’s another food thing we have in common (and because we have so little in common with regards to food, each one is important, to me anyway).

I took a tram back home, dumped the stuff I had bought and went round to the café on the corner.  I got 2 panini – one cheese (for him) and one ham and cheese (for me).  I wasn’t originally going to have one but changed my mind.  I got them hot, as is normal here, in Italy.  Today they would need to be hot.  I regretted, for a moment, that he doesn’t really eat meat because a hot pork roll with stuffing and apple sauce would have been perfect – not that they do them here either, so although I hankered after one, it wouldn’t have happened in any case.

I went to pay.  The girl on the till didn’t understand a word of what I said.  For her, it might have been a foreign language.  The problem with my mouth not working properly meant that I couldn’t even get the words out in badly pronounced Italian!

I went to the new flat.  He stopped work whilst we had the sandwiches.  Nice crusty bread and still warm.  Then we had one of the chocolates each.  He asked if the babies (as he calls them) enjoyed the walk, which I affirmed that they did.  I told him about L and the fact that she was going to Vienna for Christmas because that is where her mother and grandmother live and all the family will be there.  He said it was really nice and he loved the place (he was there for a few years when he worked for Helmut Lang).  I said that L had said that they do great Christmas markets and he confirmed that it is really Christmassy there.

He added, ‘Next year, we’ll go to Vienna for Christmas, yes?’.  Yes, I agreed, thinking how nice it was to be talking about being together this time next year too.  And I looked at him with flecks of paint on his nose and hands, in a striped top, showing a little below the neck, the hair from his chest just visible, with his newly cut hair, sitting, crossed-legged on the floor and, really I wanted to go over and hug him and kiss him and tell him just how much I loved him and how much I loved the fact that he loves me too.

One food in common – Anchovies!

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F was in his element. Greeting people like he had known them for years, and some of them, of course, he had. For those, he knew their names (something I always struggle with) and remembered things about them. I have always admired that but I am aware you can train yourself to be better at it.  I don’t have the will, really.

F took my coat – mainly because he was ‘showing me off’.  Which is fine.  I was introduced as his ‘findanzato’ to a number of people.  I am proud to be so.  And I can do the ‘being very charming and nice’.  I am gay, after all!  I just can never remember their names after 2 seconds.  Ah well.

Of course, other than FfI (with her ‘walker’ as she described him) and N&aS, I knew a number of people already.  People that I have met, including M who is really lovely (and drinks beer like a true English woman), the Manageress of the shop, D – tall, long blonde hair, S, who works with F and is helping with the flat also and a really nice guy, D another guy from the shop, etc., etc.

And I met the BIG MAN himself.  What a really pleasant, down-to-earth guy he was.  I spent a few minutes chatting with him, laughing and joking.  None of your snobby ‘I’m a designer so look at me’ thing going on.  Really nice guy.

There was champagne and nibbles.  After, we all went for a meal.  Nice evening all round.  And then F, who was going to go back to his flat, decided to come and stay with me and this, after no pressure from me whatsoever.  It’s times like that when I feel that he feels the same as me.  And that makes me feel so good.

V and I are exchanging emails as you may have realised from the post below.  It also includes various other things (Rufus, the conclusion of the Final Question, etc., etc.)

I had invited him to the do last night.  After all, this was the world he wanted to be in.  However, he couldn’t go (or chose not to go).  And, I had mentioned that I would be seeing S&N there.  He included a last paragraph, saying that he was concerned because I had changed so much and he thought perhaps I was getting in too deep and he didn’t want me to be hurt and was I sure that this was good?

I wonder why?  Yes, I have changed.  My hair is no longer dyed, so it’s grey.  The clothes that I am wearing are, somewhat, being chosen/determined by F.  As I pointed out to him – I may seem changed on the outside but I am the same ‘me’ inside.  And, as I also pointed out, I am the ‘all or nothing’ guy.  What is the point in doing this if it is half-hearted?  Why bother unless you commit – without that the partner is nothing more than a (more) intimate friend?

And, as I also pointed out, I will be fine as long as F is truthful to me and, to date, I have no reason to distrust him and hope I never will.

Not really sure what his motivation behind this was.  Maybe he was genuinely concerned and really doesn’t want me to be hurt?  Who can tell?  I’m not even sure HE could tell.

When I woke F up this morning, he wanted to stay asleep.  ‘Let’s call in and say we are sick and stay in bed all day’ he murmurs from under the duvet.  ‘It’s a lovely idea’ I say, smiling.  But the reality is that neither of us would do that and we both know that.  It’s the type of people we are.  Different but the same in important things.  And now we have found one food in common – anchovies!

Everything is, always, mostly, nearly completely perfect.

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“That’s why I love you”, he says.

This may be in a jokey way – or maybe not.  Or, maybe both?  It doesn’t matter as it’s true, in any case.

As usual, all my doubts, uncertainties, confusion, etc. melted the moment that I saw him.  How does he do this to me?  I have to be honest and say that, were it not for the internet we may never have even noticed each other, even if we had met before, although, if we had spoken, maybe it would have been different.  But now, I only have to see him, even from a distance!

I had sent texts during the day.  He hadn’t replied.  I was aware that he may not, what with the BIG DAY being today and, I guessed, everyone running around as if the Queen were about to visit.  His responsibility being the ‘look’, I thought he may be even busier than most.  That was OK.  I knew what this was like (sort of) and, so, was not pressing.

I got home and waited.  Eventually, he called.  He was going to go home.  He was late.  I suggested that he may want to come to my place first, to check out and decide what I was going to wear for the ‘do’ tonight.  He thought that was a good idea.

He got to Porta Venezia and suggested going for a pizza and would I like to come there.  I said yes but I had to change and sort out the dogs.  Then he rang saying he was already at Porta Venezia and should we meet at Pizza OK.  I suggested Timeout 2 as it was closer to my place and he could then come back to mine for the five minutes it would take to sort through what I would wear.

I walked the few minutes to Timeout 2, realising, as I walked, that it was, probably, closed.  It was Tuesday and I was convinced that it was closed for that day.  It was.  I try to phone him.  He is on the phone (as usual).  I walk up towards Pizza OK as I know that’s where he’s coming from.  Trying to call him all the time.  Still engaged.  I start walking back to Timeout 2.  He is already there and calls out to me.

We kiss on the cheeks, well, almost on the lips.  We end up in the pizzeria Liù.  V & I used to go there when we first lived in Milan in Via Eustachi.  We talk.  He tells me about his day.  How the stuff he had to do in the shop should have taken a couple of hours but how customers would ask him about the price of this or that or how they find the right size or where is so-and-so and, so, it meant he was there for over 8 hours.  On his feet all day, a new phrase he learnt last night.

And how, because he was in the shop and so busy, he didn’t have his phone on and so only read my messages just before he phoned me.

He has electricity in his flat now.  He will be able to finish the decoration.  He is happier.  I tell him I’m meeting A on Thursday night.  He might come.  I said I had told A that F might not be there as I didn’t know what he was doing but that I would be there anyway.  I have to see A as he is leaving for his parents early next week.  I say that I have agreed to meet G on Saturday night for a beer and a pizza.  Again, I have said I don’t know if F will be there.  He thanks me for this.  I explain that I know he’s feeling stressed right now and I understand and so, although I have to see these people and would prefer that he were there, I understand if he is not.

And he thanks me again for being so understanding and that’s when he says “That’s why I love you”.

The pizza was good, the base being particularly nice.  I don’t remember if it was always this good.   We also have Milanese cake (that I forget the name of the cake but it is really nice – brought out at this time of year).  He says he will be spending a lot of time at the flat.  I explain that I have arranged to meet L and take the dogs (hers and mine) to the park near the airport on Saturday morning at 10 because I thought that he would want to go and do painting and that it would encourage us to get up and not waste the day.  He is happy with that and makes plans to come and stay at mine at Friday because he is closer to his flat and it means we can get up just that little bit later.

He tells me that he had planned that he would go home, have a shower, get his stuff ready for tomorrow and come and stay at mine.  I said that I thought it would be easier and better if he stayed at his, apologising that I wouldn’t be there as I needed to be in work on time.  He said it was a good idea.  And it was, even if it means spending the night apart.  He is, in fact, relieved that I came up with this suggestion as it will be much better for both of us.  It’s practical, anyway.

I tell him that, obviously, I would have preferred to be with him and that I missed him last night.  I tell him that much, anyway.

We go home.  I try on the jacket.  He is pleased with it and says it looks really nice and the sartoria (tailors) have done a good job.  I take all the jeans out of the wardrobe.  He goes through them, rejecting most.  He finds one that he likes and then another.  He looks at the jumpers I have (that I could wear).  He thinks a white shirt, or blue, is better.  For shoes he obviously is not impressed by my type of normal shoe.  It’s not his style, for certain.  But he decides, in the end, on the new ‘trainer-type’ shoe that I bought that time in Fox Town with A.

We hug and kiss.  He had said earlier that, being on his feet all day, his feet were doing that throbbing that they do.  I said I would drive him back home.  He protested that it was not necessary and I would have difficulty parking when I got back.  I said it would be OK.  I took him anyway and I know he was grateful.  I was back home within 15 minutes and found somewhere to park.  I was lucky, I know.

And, because I had seen him and been with him, sleeping, even if alone, was not so bad.  And I know that he misses me too and he had said, during the meal, that he had explained to a colleague and friend that he would be going to my place and staying there because it was only fair and that I had the dogs and he didn’t want me to be always going to his place because of them, etc.  I knew this anyway.

But, I still don’t quite understand why, when I see him, when we’re together,I don’t have any doubts or fears or concerns.  Everything is, always, mostly, nearly completely perfect.

Food; Alarm or Not; I get the keys to the flat!

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The phone makes its beeping sound.  ‘Go on, baby, get up’, he says.  I get up, thinking how much I hate this getting up at this time in his place knowing I’ve got that 20-minute walk back home to take the boys out.  For some reason, getting up in my flat doesn’t seem so bad!

I put my clothes in the lounge so that I wouldn’t wake him too much.  I start getting dressed and, for some reason, look at my phone.  Why hasn’t the phone shown the snooze option, I wonder?  I look at the time.  It’s 5.30.  The beeping was for an email that came through.  But 5.30 means only a quarter of an hour until the alarm anyway, and I’m half dressed and, so, by the time I got back to bed there would only be 10 minutes and, therefore, I wouldn’t sleep anyway.  And it would annoy him if I went back.  And it means I can take the dogs out on the full walk, rather than the short walk that I do when I stay at his place.  Still, I am annoyed with myself for not setting the phone to silent as I usually do, for this very reason.

So, in spite of the fact that I really want to go back and sleep, I continue to dress.

I go back and kiss him goodbye.  ‘Ciao, baby’ he calls, as I go down the stairs and make my way home.

I had just checked with him before I got out of the bed that he had a good night.  He had.  He asked if I had too.  I had.  We (well, at least, I) had only woken up once that night, when he turned over to me and cuddled me.  But I noticed that my pillow had ‘moved’ over to his side during the night.  It makes me feel ‘needy’ and I don’t really want that.  When you’re asleep you can’t really control what you do.  We had agreed that we would not sleep so close because we both get so hot and that may have been the reason for not sleeping well the night before.  Either we were both waking up or one of us was waking and, therefore, waking the other.  We thought it may be the heat.  The flat was very hot on Saturday as the heating had been on all day and he hadn’t been feeling so well and didn’t go out all day.

Last night he cooked me a meal.  A huge meal.  Gnocchi with salmon in a cream sauce, fish with roast potatoes and some chocolate mouse.  It was really wonderful but made us feel so full, even if we did eat early (for Italians), eating at around 8.  I wondered, as we were lying in bed, watching The Sound of Music on the telly, and complaining about how full we felt, if he had done it in response to the Facebook chat he had had with FfI.

On Saturday morning, FfI had been rather persistent about us coming for dinner that evening.  F wasn’t sure as he was feeling bad.  But we agreed to say ‘yes’ and he would decide later.  I assumed he would come.  He didn’t.  FfI obviously decided that I had lost weight.  And it’s true, I have.  But not because I am eating less or drinking less.  In fact, I am probably eating more and certainly having more beer, these days, which should be making my weight increase.  However, the three or four trips to his place and back, usually walking, every week, mean that I am losing weight.  And, nicely, it’s going from my waistline, which is good.

She said, on the chat, ‘We need to make sure Andy is eating enough”.  He didn’t say anything.  We were together and I’m surprised FfI didn’t realise that.  But maybe that was why, that evening, yesterday evening, he decided to do such a big meal.

And to go to the dinner on Saturday night, I took the keys to his flat, at his insistence.  And, that’s when I learnt he has another set.  However, the keys are back with him now.  I wonder what will happen with the new flat?