Tag Archives: General Rambling

Finding things and throwing some out; Am I selfish?

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I open a shoe box. It contains many other, smaller boxes. I have assumed for some years, whilst it sat at the back of my wardrobe in the old flat, that it contained, more or less, only cuff-links.

Indeed, most of the stuff there is exactly that. I am surprised and, I must say, delighted to find some boxes which contain gold rings. This was from the ‘gold’ phase. The ‘gold’ phase was before V and lasted for some years with V. Of course, for some years now we have been on the ‘silver’ phase. I look froward to the ‘gold’ phase return and, maybe, I will re-introduce that phase? After all, I have no one to tell me not to.

I also find a card, at the bottom of the box. It is a Christmas card but I cannot tell from what Christmas it was. I suspect a Christmas before Italy, since these cards are impossible to find here, Italians not being into ‘cards for every occasion’ like the English or Americans. The card professes things.

I start to read it but my eyes cannot focus on the words and, in fact, although it was only last night, I cannot remember a single word – except the word ‘love’.

I wonder, now and yesterday, if the words meant anything at the time they were written or whether it was just ‘the right thing to say’? I wonder whether anything really has any meaning from anyone? I even wonder if anything I think or say is real or ‘made-up’ in my head? Sometimes it feels real but does that mean it was or is or is it just in my head?

I throw the card with the other things that I am throwing away. Boxes that contain nothing and that aren’t even nice boxes, plastic bags, etc.

There is a moment of indecision as to whether I should retrieve it. I have kept it this long (but for how long?). But why? I haven’t read it for a number of years and, maybe, never since it was given to me, so why keep it longer?

Why bother to keep it now?

I steel my heart (for it is my heart that tells me to retrieve it and my head is telling me not to) and it gets collected up and thrown out with the rest of the trash of a past life.

‘It’s better this way,’ I tell myself.

Later…. I talk with the dogs since a) they will listen, b) they will not answer back or contradict me or argue with me and c) there is no one else to talk to. For Dino, this talking means that I want to give him attention, so I do, loving him for being there and needing me right now.

This is the fifth post I have written and, probably the only one that I will publish. Sometimes it is hard to write something that is even slightly worthwhile and even the slightly worthwhile ones are dubious. Maybe all of them? But, then, like talking to Dino and Rufus, it’s not for their benefit but mine. Does that make me selfish?

Will this make me gay?

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As a gay person I must be a bit of a disappointment to the rest of the gay community. Indeed, I have been called the straightest of gay men. Many, many years ago, at a place that I worked, we did consulting to a well-known company based in the East of London/Essex. My work colleague was rumoured to be gay by the people we worked with at our customer. He countered this by telling people how wrong they had got it and that he was married with kids (and showing them pictures to prove it) whilst I was the one that was gay! I didn’t bear any grudge but thought it quite funny that so many people had got it so wrong.

Amongst other things, this straight/gay thing means that, for instance, I don’t wear any make-up; don’t really worry about being ‘toned’ (although these days it is a young, straight thing anyway) and never, never put what I call ‘crap’, on my body. ‘Crap’ includes cream – i.e. hand cream/body cream, etc.

However, since about November of last year, when we didn’t have a working washing machine, I had to do a lot of washing by hand. This played havoc with the skin on my hands which, until that point, had been as soft as a baby’s bottom (well, almost). The thing that really frustrated me is, that, my hands never recovered and, even now, parts of them are very rough with dry skin.

So, last night, after several months of putting up with this I had to phone V to ask what handcream he used, whilst I was in the supermarket. And, for the first time, really, I have started using hand cream. I am really hoping it is a temporary measure and that within a month or so, my hands will be back to normal as I am not keen on this new normal at all.

Perhaps, I am becoming a real gay person after all?

Musing?

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musing

I am taking a break from cleaning, whilst also waiting for the Terminally Ill Techno Guy to come (now just to fix my telephone line).

I cleaned and sorted much of the bedroom and then cleaned the lounge and re-arranged everything as to how it should be.

But, I do wonder, who is it for? What real purpose does it serve? Let’s be honest, V was the home maker. He did all the curtains and the fancy stuff that made it a home. I would live without curtains – not because I want to, just because I couldn’t be bothered. And why spend all that money which could be spent on something else?

I mean, for instance, the bedroom really needs a chest of drawers. I know where it should go; I know what it should look like. And, if I got one, it would look good but I probably won’t get one now and, therefore, I will manage – for ever!

But V would have one and, somehow, it would make the bedroom just so much better. I sit here, at the open window, in the perfect flat, knowing that, if V were here, it would be better than perfect.

Strange things with the Internet

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I laughed with Best Mate when I said –

“I bet, as soon as you go, the internet will be up and running”

And, as freaky as it might seem, it turned out to be perfectly true.

I rang Telecom Italia (although the initials TI might be better represented as Terminally Ill) to say that, after two days, my Internet and telephone line were STILL NOT working.

As is normal for the ignorant and unhelpful Telecom Italia operators, I was told that it had been up and running since about 4 p.m. that afternoon.

I insisted that it was still not working. The man agreed that they would send someone out but that it couldn’t be tomorrow (i.e. today) as this was a holiday and it would be Saturday.

I am less than impressed.

So, today, whilst BM was asleep (or at least, resting) I tried everything I could to get it working, to no avail.

After arriving back home after dropping her off at the airport, I thought I would have one last go at connecting. And it worked!

OK, this is not entirely the full story. The full story is that I found it [Edit 2015 – I don’t know what “it” is, I’m sorry] on the floor on the day that it didn’t work. The dogs, who have been sleeping in the bedroom, with me, whilst Best Mate (and also whilst FfI) stayed with me had knocked it off the desk.

So, the reality is that I thumped it a few times before trying to connect.

So now I don’t know whether it was me thumping it or that Terminally Ill did something else.

Who cares? The phone line still isn’t working properly so they can come here anyway. I know that because I tried to use the phone to tell them not to come and it won’t ring out.

I really, really, bloody HATE Terminally Ill!

In the meantime, Best Mate is on her way back home. >I shall miss her being here but know she must go home. I hope to see her again soon but at her place.

The Answer to the Final Question nearly done; Swedish Meatballs; Good and Bad bits

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29th April, Early Evening.

I’ve had better days, to be frank. The saving grace was that Best Mate was with me.

At least this morning, when I woke up, there was blue sky and sun. It wasn’t really warm but OK. I was just grateful it wasn’t raining.

By the time I got back from taking the boys out it was cloudy. There were things to do. Namely, completing the answer to the Final Question (this is getting really boring, isn’t it). This meant a trip to work and then somewhere else. Best Mate sat in the car. It took a little longer than expected but now I have done everything I can. I shall know next week. Of course, the “situation” will not be finished then but at least my part will be.

Then to Ikea to get some bits. I had high hopes even if Ikea is one of the very worst places in the world (for me). I knew, more or less, what I wanted – had a list with measurements.

When we got there we first went to Costarama. This is more of a DIY place. I needed some things which I got OK. Good start.

Then to Ikea and, as it was just past lunchtime we went in as Best Mate had a real hankering for their meatballs. They were great. Proper gravy and we had them with chips. They reminded me a bit of the meatballs I had in the Mongolian restaurant here, in Milan>, which, in turn, reminded me of faggots (for my American readers, faggots are not what you think, obviously) once again. Mmmm. Really tasty. As far as I was concerned I could have gone home right there and then. However, we were here so let’s do it.

Although I did get some things, the things I really wanted were short in supply. There was so little choice in bathroom cabinets; not the right storage boxes; not the right things for the kitchen.

So, I am not much further forward which is annoying. Also, when we came out of Ikea it was to a tremendous thunderstorm. Bah!

Then I got a call from work to tell me that I am working the weekend of the show in Paris and having to drive back with the bits at the end of the show.

Well, there are things to discuss when I am back in work on Monday, that’s for sure.

And, once again, I am, in effect, without internet access. This morning there was a very slow connection but, I guess, after the rain again, this afternoon it was gone.

At the moment, I have an even slower connection via someone’s wireless but it is so slow as to not be there. I guess this will be posted tomorrow when they are supposed to have officially fixed it.

Maybe this morning was just a ploy by Telecom Italia to let me think they were not so bad after all. Let’s hope that they have fixed it by the end of tomorrow as Best Mate has bought me a USB video camera so we can see each other when we Skype and we were going to try it out when she called the little BMs this evening.

Ah well, the plan is to do Chinese tonight as I have kept to my word so far and we have been having cheap (but good) meals.

“There are no revelations. Everything you learn, you know already”

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I sit here, with the post below, not posted; with the rain outside – knowing it’s raining because of the whoosh of the cars as they drive through the driving rain; with, as I just told Best Mate, the heater that I didn’t buy last year or the year before that, or, even, the first year that I felt the cold after they had switched the building central heating off, blowing no hot air to keep me from blowing on my fingers to try and stem the feeling that my fingers were gradually shrivelling up – when they had gone cold and shiny and slippery, in the way that they do with the cold – when they won’t work properly.

And, the reason for the post below not being posted, as this one won’t be, when I am finished, is down to wonderful Telecom Italia. I have been back with them less than a week and it already feels like I have never been away. It’s the rain, I suppose.

The difference between this time and the last time I had problems with Telecom Italia (which was just before I moved to Infostrada/Wind/whatever) was that the whole conversation was in Italian. Well, I say Italian. His bit was in Italian and my bit was in a version of Italian that, using a phrase used by one of my ex-students who is now a colleague could only be described as Kill Italian Volume 105.

Still, I made myself understood. He made himself understood to me. Everything was going swimmingly until the end when I asked how long it could possibly take to fix.

“Two days”

“TWO DAYS!” I could barely keep the shock that this information had on me out of my voice. In fact so barely was it concealed that, the reality was, it wasn’t.

He made a noise which I can only describe as a cross between a laugh and a snort. The laugh because I’m sure that’s what it was but the snort because there was a certain amount of the arrogant contempt for which all Telecom Italian employees must have special training in order that they are able to master it to perfection.

I thanked him but I have no idea what for.

Perhaps it is the rain after all. I have noticed that, in general, if anything goes wrong it is when it is raining here. The radio will go silent for minutes at a time; the electricity can be a little intermittent; the telephone lines don’t work properly.

Still, on the plus side, whilst Best Mate was listening to her iPod thing (which is not an iPod at all – just something similar), I finished the book that Peter had lent me at the Mantova festival last September! Yes, it has taken me 7 months to finish a single book. Even I am disgusted with myself. Anyway, the one line that really stood out for me was the line in the post title. I just loved it.

And the book? Kalooki Nights by Howard Jacobson – page 446 in the version Peter lent me. So there you have it.

This will be posted, exactly as it is, when I have internet access.

Bits and bobs

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No unpacking last night. More of trying to get the ADSL working. V managed to get the modem/router working without me having to go back over (I had been to collect some more stuff), so that was good.

However, there are a couple of things that, right now, I really, really like.

The first is the silence. There is no sound. I can (and do) sit at the kitchen table with complete silence surrounding me (except for the dogs claws clipping on the concrete floors). Once I get my WiFi working, I can imagine sitting at that table doing my blogging, etc.

The other was, whilst taking the dogs for a walk last night, just round the corner from mine is a street that has, most of the way down, a series of ‘front gardens’, most of which have wisteria overhanging the fence and, last night, even if it was a little cooler after the thunderstorms, the perfume of the flowers was so beautiful, wisteria being one of my favourites.

And I truly love the flat. It still needs to be sorted and I definitely need a handy-man to come and fix some things for me and I do need to get rid of the boxes but……. it feels like home and I just know I will be really happy here. It is, after all The Perfect Flat On The Perfect Street!

The flat is like a tardis; A strange thing about moving into a new place (in Italy).

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Of course, it’s not all over yet. I mean, it’s not like the ‘moving out’ is the final thing and today is the first day of the rest of my life (although it is, of course).

No, in the end, there were many things that I forgot, left behind, etc. Was this a subconscious decision on my part to ensure I had to keep going back? Or was this, as I suspect, just plain laziness/running out of time?

So, I took the modem/router but, with my new, not-working, Alice system, I don’t need it (the Telecom guy said that, in fact, I can’t use it! I think he’s lying). So, tonight, after a I go and pick up some shoes and other stuff, I shall be returning the modem and setting it up for V in the half-empty flat that, even as I was leaving it, felt too large for a family of four, let alone two. Or, maybe, I have become (a little) Italian?

Or, maybe, my new flat is just like a tardis? After all, empty, it seemed tiny. Before, with her stuff in it it seemed quite big. Now, with my stuff in it seems even bigger. How on earth can that be?

And there’s a strange thing about Italians and flats for rent. I have mentioned this before but it is quite common for people, on leaving a rented flat, to take the kitchen they have installed. In this case the kitchen is not all that great but, at least, it’s there. Together with (not brilliant but not bad) fridge; good, but small washing machine and adequate cooker – and sink and drainer (which most of you, outside Italy, would take for granted anyway). Certainly all the light fittings are taken – even the bulbs. This means that, until I find all my lamps (major hunt going on tonight) and then buy some light fittings (and get someone to fit them), I am walking around with one lamp and my mobile phone. The mobile phone being used instead of a torch to find the socket into which I may plug my lamp!

I did think that there were not that many light fittings available anyway. In fact, I could not remember any. However, I now find there is at least one in all rooms except the bedroom where there is none. However, none of the ‘fittings’ have anything except wire – I mean no actual light/bulb/fitting – just bare wire. This means that I need light fittings AND someone to fit them, me never being happy with messing about with electricity, especially if on my own. V always did this stuff.

And, therefore, I may take the wall lights from the lounge that we fitted and one or two other ceiling lights. V had offered. I had thought about asking him to come and fit them but I think that may be a bit much and would, but maybe only in my mind, mean he has a ‘hold’ on the place – just because he was ‘involved’ in setting it up. Crazy? Maybe, but I do want this to be my place.

So, at least for the next few days, I shall be returning to ‘collect’ some things and to ‘return’ some things that the removal men packed because I couldn’t watch them all the time.

As you see, it is not ‘over’. However, maybe things will change when he’s moved out? Or, maybe, they will be the same or similar?