Tag Archives: Relationships

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.

You did your best

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The days all blur into one but I think it was Christmas Day.

I’m cooking the ‘chicken’ thing, etc.  I wash up a few things as the kitchen isn’t that big and, anyway, F is on the computer.  I go and sit with him and he asks, ‘Have you washed up?’  He is obsessed with ‘clean’ and ‘perfect’ (just check out my Farm on Farmville – he did it and you can see that it’s very ‘organised’ and tidy).

I reply that I had.  He looks over.

‘You did your best’, he says.  Bastard!  But he still makes me laugh :-)

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.

A new life and a new forever.

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“I really miss you”, he says through the sobs.

Part of me wants to say that he wouldn’t be here, in this place, if he hadn’t wanted something else.  It makes me angry.  Part of me just wants to go to his place and give him a big hug and tell him that everything will be alright – even if it’s not with me.  But the other side, the angry side, thinks that he threw away 20 years – and for what?

I go to the bedroom.  F is lying on the bed.  I feel guilty for having been talking to V.  Especially as F will probably realise who I am talking to.  I say nothing about the phone call.  It’s as if it has never happened.  Yes, he knows.  But I am here with him.  I give him a kiss.  I love him, now, not V.  Well, I love V too – after 20 years how can I not?  But F is the one that I love with passion, with that heart-stopping love.

I, too, regret that, the last Christmas, as the song goes, he broke my heart and so this Christmas, I’ve given it to someone special.  But this Christmas is already great and wonderful and full of love.

V had called because he wanted to hear me because he and Ig had broken up.  I feel so bad for him but you can’t go back.  He can’t go back.  I’ve already moved forward and we’re now on different roads.  And that is life.  Or, rather, that is the life he chose to make.  For without Turin a few years back and events after that, he wouldn’t have to be missing me at all.  And, I’m sorry for that but in an arm’s length kind of way.

Sorry for him and sorry for the life we had, which I thought was forever.  But now I have a new life and a new forever.

Last Christmas – Wham!

And, in case I don’t get to write another post, I wish you all a very Happy Christmas.  Enjoy and have fun and may you all be as lucky as me, now, and in the future.

I am a little confused; We all change, apparently

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“I need to know how to get the comments posted in the same way as they are on your blog?”, F asks me.

I am astounded by the fact that he knew about the blog (not that it would be difficult) and also that he has said nothing up to now.

Thoughts race through my head.  What has he read?  How long has he been reading?  Has what he has read made a difference as to how he feels about me, given that I have been, sort of, quite open about how I feel?  Why hasn’t he said anything?  Is he angry or not?  What should I reply to his question?

Of course, he knows about blogs.  He’s signed up to one.  The one that his boss does.  But that’s about work.

I think: How stupid am I not to have told him.

I think: But what if he asks me to take it down?  How can I?  It’s part of me, it’s something I just HAVE to do.  And, although I can be anonymous somewhere else I can’t (or is that don’t want to be) too anonymous.  After all it’s about my life.  It involves my friends, my life, my interests, my love.

No, it’s ‘don’t want to be’.  I don’t want to give this up.

Later.

As I get dressed I think about what I have dreamt.  For a moment I think of it as if we have really had the conversation before I realise that it just had to have been a dream.  Part of me breathes a sigh of relief.  Part of me thinks I should do something.  Part of me thinks I should leave well alone.

To put it mildly, I am a little confused.

________________________________________________________________________________

I have got some spots on the inside of my legs, around the knees.  A couple of nights ago, they were really hot.  So hot and uncomfortable, in fact, that, lying on my side I could not put my legs together.  I thought it was just something that would go away.  It hasn’t.

I told F.  He had a look.  He decided that it was because it was dry skin.  He said I needed to put some cream on it.  I was going to put some hand cream on it (as that is all I have in that line of product).  He told me no and gave me some of his body cream (I still fail to see any real difference – but what would I know?).

As I was putting it on and rubbing it in (because I so hate the feel of the skin afterwards – so greasy like, as I used to say to V, dipping yourself in chip fat), I said that I didn’t understand why it had happened as I never had this problem before now (apart from my hands but there’s a good reason for that).

“We all change” he said, in a voice that sounded more he was saying this as if a mother to a child, “I didn’t have hair when I was eight”, he added as he walked out of the bathroom.

I just laughed.

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 :-)

The spare set of keys (II)

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Europe has winter.  And, as we’re in Europe, so do we.  Snow has fallen (but mostly gone from Milan city, itself) but more snow is forecast this afternoon and tomorrow.  I hate it.

Regular readers to my blog will know that I’m only really happy when the sun is shining and the temperature is above about 25°C.  So that would be about 30° higher than this.  You can, therefore, imagine how I feel about it.  Still, I know we’ve only got another month or month and a half before we should see some improvement.

‘I will be spending more time at your house’, he says, over a pizza last night.  He is still trying to do his flat.  I said that it makes it easier for me.  But this doesn’t mean moving in.  He added that ‘when I’ve moved in it will be much easier because when you stay at my house, you can go and walk the dogs and then come back to mine’.  Hmm.  It will be much easier but then the incentive for him to stay with me will, somewhat, be lost, so we shall see.

‘Can I get Dino’s hair cut’, he says, unexpectedly, adding ‘I would like to see him with short hair, like Rufus’.  He’s good, I have to say that for him.  What he really wants is that Dino should have a wash.  I know that.  He had asked a day or two earlier if it was possible for ‘us’ to wash him.  I said it was difficult with only a shower. And Dino does smell a bit doggy.  My sense of smell is not so good so I don’t notice so much.  His sense of smell is good.  I replied that we could get Dino’s hair cut.  I don’t have a choice really and it would make life a little easier.

Today he has his Christmas parties at work.  Lunchtime is one for the showroom and this evening is the shop event.  He may go to both.  Last night he was saying that I could go to his place.  The logistics of it were more difficult.  I was about to say that he should call me when he was leaving the ‘do’ and I would make my way to his house.

Before I had chance to do this he suggested that, when I take him home this morning, he would nip in and give me the spare set of keys so that I could go up whenever I like.

Of course, I will give them back to him tonight.  He hasn’t said that I should keep them and, anyway, he won’t be there for more than a month longer.  I wonder what will happen with the new flat?

But, still, it is the spare set of keys!

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.

So I may not have Christmas carols everywhere but at least I shall have Doris and Bing!

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It’s funny, really.  I only thought about it today but I know what’s different.

Christmas Carols.  There aren’t any.  Sure, we have the same kind of piped music in the shops.  Maria Carey with her greatest Christmas Hits, blaring out, not so subtly, for example.  But what I don’t see (although maybe it’s just Milan, or, even Milan centre) is groups of people singing Christmas Carols.

What we do have at this time of year is street vendors selling chestnuts, which is nice; flashing lights round people’s balconies or windows (thank God that the fad for Santas climbing up ladders seems to have almost gone); decorated trees or some sort of modern version in most shops; beautiful Christmas lights down the main streets or the little ‘centres’ that are outside the centre of Milan but are their own little community, like on a section of Via Stoppani, for example.

We also have (or have had) the local priest coming round to bless the ‘house’ although, being at work, I always miss it, which is, probably, just as well.

And last night, as I walked into F’s flat, there were Christmas songs being played.  Now I should point out that, for the last 20 years, on the dot of the 1st December, out came the Christmas CDs.  Some of which I didn’t have a problem with.  However, after the hundredth hearing of Maria Carey’s (breathy) Ultra-Special Christmas Album, I’d had enough.  So by about the 10th December I didn’t want to hear any Christmas songs again!

The difference, which was refreshing, was that last night it was all the sort of stuff I like – Bing Crosby, Frank Sinatra, Perry Como and, even, Doris Day!  All the kind of stuff that I really do like at Christmas. But what he doesn’t seem to have is an Italian singer’s Christmas album (I shall, of course, check now).

So I may not have Christmas carols everywhere but at least I shall have Doris and Bing!