Tag Archives: Italy

Minutes away ………..

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Well, this is it!

The last time for getting up at 5.30 a.m. for 23 days.

And the last time for getting up at 5.30 a.m. with a temperature of at least 26°C until, probably, next summer, since it will be almost September by the time I do it again.

And my test worked, and I am happy about that.

In one hour, I leave work. I go home, hold T’s hand whilst she does her test; pack; shower and, with any luck, we shall leave.

F is going to be really busy today and doesn’t know what time he will finish – but I reckon he will try to finish as normal which will enable us to go.

It is so very hot an humid here, right now and, although it’s hot and humid there – it’s not as bad as here.

Less than 1 hour now.

Not that I’m counting down the minutes or anything ……….

Half-preparing

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Well, my first night ‘free’ for a long time.

I have been so busy and will continue to be busy for the next two days before the hols. I have tried to set up this WordPress thing to allow me to post by email. I got it working partially but the text of the message came out as gobbledygook. I might have another go tomorrow. It would allow me to post whilst I’m away or, at least, it would be much easier to post. Still, if I can’t do it that way, I can try something else. We’ll see.

I should have done a few minor repairs to some jeans and trousers but I will take the stuff away with us and do it then. Maybe. I mean – maybe I will take it away. And, anyway, even if I DO take it away, maybe I will do it. The probability is that I will take it away and bring it back in the same state. But I do have one week without F and I think I might do it then.

I have given the dogs their monthly anti-heartworm and flea stuff tonight so they’re ready to go.

I did the last shopping (I hope).

Tomorrow evening, I shall pack as Friday will be busy and I don’t want to have to do it then.

Two nights from now and I should be eating pizza (with aubergine, asparagus and lardo) in Bati Bati on the first night of our holiday (subject to F finishing work early enough, T finishing her English Test early enough and the traffic not being horrendous).

The weather is very hot right now but is due to change on Monday (typical). This evening, walking the dogs, it said it was 34°C which is quite warm really. Still, even when it changes it will still remain n the high 20s, so not too bad.

And I sit here finishing my nice cold beer before I take the dogs out and go to bed, for I am exhausted.

Till my next post. If you’re going on holiday too, then have a nice time. If not, then have a nice time anyway.

Social or Anti

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I don’t know why but during the weekend I kept thinking of my parents. Well, not thinking of them, exactly, but rather how much they wouldn’t like this. This thing that I do now.

I always thought that I would never pay to go onto a beach. But I used to hate carrying everything. Not that I actually carried everything, of course, but as I was the eldest, it was always more. And, instead of setting up camp near the entrance to the beach, we always had to go where there was no one else. Which meant walking on the beach. And walking. And walking. Laden as we were with deckchairs and windbreaks and costumes and food. And walking until I thought I would die. Or felt I would die. Or wanted to die with shame and embarrassment.

Even when we arrived at what seemed to be the furthest possible location, it wasn’t finished. For there was the setting up of the windbreak, the deck chairs, the changing into costumes, one at a time, using this thing that my Mum had fashioned out of, what seemed to be some sort of toweling but was almost like a curtain – but a very ugly curtain, with elastic at the top or drawstrings or something so that it covered you from the neck down. I absolutely HATED changing on the beach.

Then there was the food. We were a family of 6 so there was a lot of food. Sandwiches made that morning, sausage rolls made last week and kept in tupperware, rock cakes, hard boiled eggs. And other stuff.

It all seemed such a palaver.

But, being 6, I guess they couldn’t afford to go to restaurants and we didn’t have burger places then – except Wimpy, which was dreadful (not that the burger places now are much good). I understand now and I think I understood then.

That doesn’t mean I liked it. I didn’t. I HATED it. I hated everything about it. It’s like we were some sort of tribe, invading the beach. But with the embarrassment of it all I was, kind of, glad that we weren’t near other people. But they seemed to hate it when other people came near. If someone pitched up near to us they would complain and ask (themselves) why the person had to park themselves so close to us.

And, on reflection, perhaps that is one of the reasons I find it hard to socialise, in general. I wasn’t brought up to socialise, I guess.

Of course, in the early evening (unless the weather was not so good) we had to reverse all this. Packing away the food left-overs, uprooting the windbreak and rolling it up, collapsing the deckchairs. Getting changed again using the stupid and hateful changing robe thing. And then carrying the whole lot back to the car.

However, now, I love the fact that we just go to the beach. We take towels. We take personal stuff. But we don’t have to take deckchairs or food or an umbrella or a windbreak. It’s not a 6-mile hike to the spot we have. Of course, there are people always nearby. It’s not like we can hide away. And because F is from there and so are many people on the beach and that we share an umbrella with another couple (who only come for about an hour), you can’t really NOT talk to anyone.

But it’s nice.

And, coming back to the point, a lifetime away from anything my parents would have done.

I am not 20

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Personally, I think it was the last mojito that did it. After all, it wasn’t a mojito at all but, rather than rum, was something else entirely.

I was, as said by one of the characters in the Fast Show, Rowley Birkin QC, and shown below, very, very drunk.

Of course, I didn’t go out with the intention of ending up completely wasted. No, no. It was just a meal out with friends. We didn’t even start off by drinking much. OK so an aperitivo at the bar we all met up in. And, I suppose, I did drink most of E’s drink since she didn’t like it.

Then we ahd some wine with the meal. Well, three bottles of the good stuff and a carafe of the house wine but that was between six of us.

OK so one person hardly drunk any, another only slightly more, so I guess effectively 4 bottles between 4 which, I suppose, is a bottle each.

But it was the beach party that did it really.

One of the nice things about Italy is the cocktails. There’s no such thing as gills. Or is it gils? In any event – measuring. They don’t do it.

Since the barman was the son of E (who’s drink I had nearly drunk earlier), he did the mojitos for me and Alf. I’m not a fan but it was a disco (with the dreadful Italian summer music) and there was sand beneath my feet and it was warm and people were dancing and it seemed to go down quite well.

At some point, someone mentioned going for a swim in the sea but, even in my inebriated state, I knew that was dangerous and declined – saying it was dangerous. In the end, no one did go for a swim. Maybe I had frightened them. Or, at least, made them think.

I wasn’t going to have another but, you know, it seemed we weren’t likely to go home any time soon and so, I thought, why not?

Of course, in the light of day there were a million and one reasons why not. But it was not the light of day but about 1 a.m. These reasons did not even cross my mind. But, apparently, they had run out of rum and so our wonderful new friend, the barman, suggested something else which we agreed to try.

To be honest, by then, it could well have been antifreeze and I would have drunk it. Perhaps it was antifreeze? I drank it anyway. And then I remember very little until about 7 a.m. when I first woke up.

Not when I GOT up, mind you. Just woke up. The dogs were being a bit of a pain so I let them out in the garden.

F woke up about 10.15. I had woken up several times between 7 and then. We got up and took the dogs out.

In the end, we got to the beach about 12.30 – about 3 hours later than we usually do. As F said, we shouldn’t really do this very often and I totally agree. It’s not like we’re 20 any more.

Still it was a nice evening. From what I recall!

In preparation.

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Well, I think it’s as good as it will get – subject to plastic around important legs, which will have to wait.

Of course, I THINK it’s OK but know, in my heart, that I have, quite obviously, missed something.

There are, one hopes, what with F buying something every time he goes abroad, enough toys to keep the little bugger occupied. In the process I have cleared out some food in the fridge and found that I have far too much wine. Maybe I should drink more? ;-)

Tonight, we should be going out with the Austrian friend and her husband. They are here to select clothes for next year, it being the start of the showroom sales.

Next week is the Paris fashion shows, so F is in Paris next weekend. Dino and I will be going to Carrara, even if I prefer to be with F.

I have suggested to Best Mate, that she comes for the first week in August (as F will be working and I shall be in the first week of my three-week holiday) – she can get a cheapish flight to Pisa and we can spend the days on the beach or sight-seeing or something. I don’t think she will come but it would be rather nice. And it would be a weeks holiday for her.

Of course, there will also be Piero, which makes it more fun. We could have barbeques in the back garden and stuff. Yes, it would be all rather fun, I think. I hope she says ‘yes’.

This afternoon, we are going to see Piero and, hopefully, choose. F says that he will like them all and be unable to choose, so I will do it. He says that he will always, then, prefer one of the others. But I think there will be ‘the one’ – and you know that I always believe in ‘the one’ for both dogs and boyfriends :-D

In the meantime, these next few weeks will be SO busy, with hardly an evening or weekend free to do anything. Weekends in Carrara being the only time to relax. And then comes Piero – so even more so. But it’s OK. It will be fun, I know that much.

Summer; slowly; puppy-proofing

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Finally, it is here.

The temperature in my flat, with all windows open, is 30°C. Last night it reached a low of about 25°C (according to the weather forecast I use).

I am happy but slower, of course. I am also, after going to the supermarket, sweating so I am sitting here for a moment, typing this whilst I ‘dry off’ a bit. Before going out again. Slowly, of course. On the other hand, both Dino and F are not so happy. Dino cannot get cool enough and, at times, seems to be trying to dig through the floor (to get to cooler earth???). Obviously, he doesn’t realise that we are on the third floor and so, if he ever did manage to dig through the concrete, he would be in the flat below! Now, he can’t be walked in the middle of the day. It’s too uncomfortable for him. I wait until about 8 when the sun is lower – even then it’s really too hot for him, poor thing.

We are not in Carrara this weekend. F is supposed to be working but has done his back in again and so is currently at home. So this weekend, the plan was to ‘puppy-proof’ the flat. Which I will start this afternoon.

Puppy-proofing will be difficult, I think. When we got Dino we were able to close off the lounge. Here, I am unable to do that and, anyway, I need the lounge for the newspaper.

So, all rugs must be lifted; all books must be put into the bookcase; all videos stored away from the bottom shelf in the hall. There will be other things too. I have an idea for protecting the table legs and chair legs in the lounge which is to get some thick plastic and tie round them. The ones in the kitchen don’t really matter. There will be things that I will miss, of course. It’s one of the prices you pay.

Still, we have not decided. Now I am so busy that, if I don’t go this weekend and choose, it won’t happen. I really want F there too (to help choose) but I’m guessing he won’t come. Maybe I go tomorrow.

In any event, it is summer and Piero should be here in the next 3 weeks or so. I am so excited. It will be exhausting but fun.

Death Valley – UK High Street

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It was so sad. So down-at-heel. So without inspiration or hope or anything. It could have been in one of the most run down suburbs of any large town. Some shops were closed. Some shops looked like they were about to close. The shops selling things for £1 or less were stacked to the gills with gaudiness and tackiness.

Everything seemed to be on sale. No, everything seemed to be cheap both in price and quality. Every building seemed like it needed a facelift.

Oh, there was no litter anywhere, nor any graffiti. People used the ashtrays provided so there wasn’t even a cigarette butt to see. So it SHOULD have looked better, shouldn’t it? But it didn’t. It looked shabby.

There weren’t many people around either. And those that were there looked burdened by poverty and miserableness and unhappiness and dread. People slouched and seemed to drag their feet. Like all hope had been sucked out of them. Like there had been a plague of Deatheaters (re: Harry Potter) seconds before.

But, then, it’s not a “quaint” town with “things to see” or, at least, not famous ones. No one I have ever known has said “Let’s go to Wolverhampton!”

It only took a few moments to feel as depressed by it as it all looked; as all the people looked! We walk along the street in order to ‘look around’ and, maybe, buy something but within those few moments, all I wanted to do was to go back to the hotel.

There is no ‘town centre’ any more – just ‘death valley’. I forced myself to buy some sandals. I looked at buying a T-shirt. But I really did want out of there. It makes it seem more unlikely I could go back.

It’s not to say there aren’t similar ‘dead’ zones in Italy, of course but not, I think, in what should be a major city. Nor is it to say that we don’t have closed and boarded up shops, nor that we don’t have the equivalent of Pound Shops or temporary stores – even on Corso Buenos Aries (a main shopping street in Milan – not far from my house)! But, somehow, it doesn’t seem depressing …….. yet!

They’ve got some woman in the UK government to try and ‘breathe life’ into the high streets of the UK but I think it’s too far late now. Now people are used to going to out-of-town shopping centres or mega superstores. These, in fact, are the new high street.

With the changes that Mr Monti wishes to make in Italy, I think we could have the same disaster here, in about 10 years, which would be such a shame. Some will survive – as long as they are tourist destinations – then the place will be full of gift shops and clothes shops and antiques shops.

No, it was sad to see and horrible to be walking there. I shan’t be doing that again in a hurry.

Villa Singer and a wedding.

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Yesterday was a wedding.

An Italian wedding. But not like an Italian wedding at all. There weren’t a thousand and one guests; there wasn’t a wedding breakfast which had 100 courses; there wasn’t a white dress or top hats and tails. It was, in fact, more like a small, intimate party. And it was truly lovely.

This was one of F’s childhood friends, P, getting married to a banker, A, even though he looks nothing like a banker should look. I have never known P without A and, so, to me they are perfectly right for each other. She, apparently, was a bit wild in her youth (so was F) but can still be a little unexpected now.

The wedding ceremony took place in Piazza Reale, a stone’s throw from the Duomo. It was conducted by one of her ex-boyfriends.

Apart from the happy couple, and F and his friend R, I knew only one other person – L who bears a striking resemblance to Betty Boop! Only a tad older.

We were late for the ceremony (of course), arriving some few minutes after it all started. It had started at 10.

F took photographs. Lots of photographs.

The day was lovely but not too hot. The groom was dressed in white trousers with a white T-shirt and loose white scoop-neck top. The bride wore white trousers, similar top with an off-white jacket. She had had some braiding in her hair and looked lovely.

After the ceremony we went, by metro to Villa Singer (pronounced singe – er). We arrived about mid-day.

The first picture you see on the link was, more or less, how it was. It’s a not-so-big garden, next to one of Milan’s old canals. Tranquil, beautiful and the perfect setting for a wedding reception. It wasn’t many courses but, rather, a buffet that included fried courgette flowers, oysters, grilled green chilli-like peppers with anchovies, courgette mouse, vegetarian lasagne and a cake that was beautiful sponge covered with lashings of whipped cream and raspberries and strawberries. I had two slices :-)

There was prosecco (Italian champagne) and white wine or, for those who were not drinking, water and grapefruit juice. I wasn’t one of the last group.

We drank and ate and chatted and laughed. There were about 25 people so large enough not to get bored but small enough that you chatted to everyone and I met some really nice people (which is normal). It was all delightful.

Inside the house the rooms, full of antique furniture were open for you to walk round – and I did for a few moments.

But it was all so relaxed and, even if it is an overused word, nice. It was like being at a small garden party with friends, drinking in the afternoon sun (in both senses).

I watched F, from time to time, being the joker and centre of attention – but not in a bad way. Everyone loves him but I adore him. Someone (it may have been Betty Boop) asked if I would marry him and I said that I would. Of course I would.

And, if we did get married, I would want a wedding like this.

We left about 6. It was wonderful and I was really happy that I had been asked to go and that we went.

A little uncertainty

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I’ve got more to say about Vienna – but no time right now.

In the meantime, since we’ve been back, there’s a touch of uncertainty in the air. It seems F is looking for a change.

However, I have learnt that, just like V, he tends to say things that aren’t always followed through. I learnt, too, whilst in Vienna, that the problem with Brazil was that it was just too far away. Apparently. Obviously, for me it wasn’t a problem.

Now we are considering Vienna. And doing a B&B. He’s looking for a sponsor. He’s fed up with work. I’ve now heard this for three nights in a row, so maybe it’s true. We shall see. For me, it’s not a problem. I liked Vienna very much. Especially as they are a) more dog friendly; b) permit smoking in bars and restaurants (although, to be honest, I’ve got used to going outside); c) it’s cleaner than Italy (I mean no rubbish on the streets, etc.) and d) I can always teach English and do copy-editing.

As I’ve mentioned before, I’ve kind of ‘done’ Italy now – in that I’ve been here 7 years, more or less, and survived. Of course, I would be very happy to stay here but I’m equally happy to move now, even to the other side of the world and even at my advanced age. After all, new challenges might be fun.

But, as I said earlier, F can be a little like V sometimes. What he says will happen won’t always happen, so I won’t be holding my breath.

But, you know, Vienna might just be a nice place to live?

Holiday and illness

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“The first time we book a holiday and THIS happens”.

He was really upset, even if it’s not. It is neither the first time we’ve booked a holiday nor the first time he’s got ill when we’ve been going to do something.

But he is genuinely upset as it is an important holiday. For ’tis the trip to Vienna.

For him: the most wonderful city in the world and where he would like to live.

For me: Much further North than I care to be. Risk of severe cold and rain (although, thank goodness, not snow).

On the plus side – they do strudel – which is the only thing that, for me, Austria has going for it. I remember the last time in Austria – a holiday, in August. the day after we left, they had severe flooding in the valley we had been in because it had not stopped raining for two weeks – the very same two weeks we were there. OK, I exaggerate a bit (but only a bit – we did have one or two nice days). But, there was the strudel!

But back to this trip.

It is an important trip in many ways. He wants to ‘show me round’ and, quite possibly, for me to love it as he does; he wants to visit the mother of a close friend who committed suicide (not long after we met); his friend (who lives there) REALLY wants us to come. I guess that’s enough reasons.

And we’re taking Dino.

Except, of course, for this small hiccough.

“It says 37.4″, he tells me after he has taken his temperature.

But I am crap at all this sort of stuff.

“Is that bad?”, I ask, adding, “I don’t know what it’s supposed to be”. He tells me what it’s supposed to be. I have already forgotten but something like 36, I think. Let’s be honest, later, I felt his forehead and it was very hot. I don’t need a thermometer to tell me he has a fever.

But he has a determination about this. He really, really wants to go. Or, maybe, he really, really wants to take me. Or Dino. One of those things anyway.

So, in spite of the fact that he had the same temperature at 7 this morning, he has taken Dino to the hairdressers and, I suspect, we shall go anyway, taking plenty of Lemsips with us!

So I shan’t be posting for the next (almost) week whilst we are driving to and from and staying in, Vienna. I have no computer and no computer access. Bliss :-)

In any event, I love going on holiday with him and, to be honest, I don’t care where we go, as long as we’re together.

Although the strudel is sounding rather good :-)