And there’s another thing ……..

Posted on 18 March, 2014 by Andy

The weather, at the moment, is lovely. During the day it’s been getting up to the mid-20s (°C) and the sun has been shining.

Until about the week before last it had seemed like it had rained since before Christmas, non-stop.

As you may know, cold, wet weather is not my thing. I like hot and dry and with the sun shining.

And, being British, I am used to people complaining about the weather, particularly when it is cold and wet. Interestingly enough, the Italians have also been complaining about the weather.

And, now that the cold, wet part is over for now, they have continued complaining – about it being too hot!!!!

I keep saying that it is not too hot but it makes no difference. It’s too hot, too hot for the time of year, or something similar.

So, the fact that it was cold and wet for months and months is all forgotten.

There’s just no pleasing some people!

p.s. and this includes F, who was, in fact, the first Italian who said it was too hot and has continued to say it!

Occasionally, Italians are REALLY annoying!

Posted on 17 March, 2014 by Andy

As I have mentioned before, I quite like food.

OK, so that’s an understatement. I bloody LOVE food. I mean L. O. V. E. it. Especially food that is bad for you although I also like food that is good for you, I suppose (I like vegetables and stuff).

Coming to Italy, one would think then, was really just the perfect place for me. And it is, in many, many ways.

But, as I have probably mentioned countless times, the Italians, themselves (with notable exceptions such as F, Lola, etc.) are so SMALL-MINDED when it comes to food. In fact, over the last few days, I have become quite incensed about it. So much so that this morning, when I brought flapjacks in for my colleague, S, to taste (and many thanks to Amy for reminding me about the fact that flapjacks are made with Golden Syrup), when she said that she loved them and wanted the recipe, I had my little say about Italians always complaining how nowhere else can do food properly and that it wasn’t true as can be proved by some of the things that I make and that Italians like.

And the reason I was so uptight about this was some random article about foods you SHOULD NOT ask for in Italy.

One of the things was an Hawaiian Pizza (boiled ham with pineapple as a pizza topping). The article was certain that none of the foods mentioned were available in Italy. I pointed out, quite rightly, that I have had this pizza in a couple of places in Milan (and, with fresh pineapple rather than the tinned variety and really top-quality ham it is NOT the same as any I’ve had in the UK but a million, zillion times better).

But Italians will be so effing conservative when it comes to food! So I’ve had many comments railing against such a thing and saying that this is done only for the tourists (when I specifically pointed out that these pizzerias were NOT in any tourist area!) and that Milan is not a typical Italian city. The most stupid thing is that they think it is horrible – without even tasting it! And yet a fishy mayonnaise sauce is the perfect topping when spread over a thin slice of veal!!! And Melon goes with cured ham. Or figs.

They just close their minds to tasting something new without some preconceived ideas about what is right and wrong. In fact, if it wasn’t invented in Italy then it’s obviously wrong.

Sorry (Lola), but they’re just plain wrong!

And it makes me just a little irritated, to be honest.

Grrrrrrr.

Tony Benn – remembering my parents!

Posted on 14 March, 2014 by Andy

When I was a kid, my parents rarely talked politics.

Or, there again, maybe they did but I just didn’t notice or ignored it.

I knew my maternal grandmother was a Liberal (of the old-fashioned Liberals) as she was a councillor on the local town council.

I knew, somehow, that my parents were Conservative.

And, the one thing I DO remember, was there utter hatred of a Labour guy – Tony Benn or, as I think he was known then, Anthony Wedgwood Benn. He was, I think, in their terms, bordering on evil.

I couldn’t understand it. I didn’t take any real interest in politics but I failed to understand how you could hate someone because of their beliefs and the words that they used.

Of course, one must remember that I was a very rebellious child. And the effect of them disliking something or someone tended to mean that I would be more open to that thing or that someone. On the contrary, the things that they did were so odious to me that, as an adult, these are things I don’t like to do. And so, things like packed lunches for when you go somewhere; carrying a lot of stuff with you all of the time – to the beach, in particular, are some examples.

In fact, I’ve listened to Tony Benn a number of times and, whilst not always or fully agreeing with his point of view, I can’t knock him for his right to have those views nor for his conviction in them, nor even for the intelligent way he would argue his case. Hate him? Certainly not.

And today he has died and tributes are pouring in (as they do). And I wondered, for a moment, if my mother had any thoughts on this (my father having died already)?

Still, that moment has now passed.

Without the drinking!

Posted on 13 March, 2014 by Andy

There used to be this thing.

I went out and got very, very drunk.

The next day, I was would worry about what I had said or done whilst I was drunk.

Maybe it’s happened to you too? (No, not you, Lola as I don’t think you’ve ever been THAT drunk.)

Anyway, I think (hope) it was a kind of “normal” thing.

But that’s stopped now. Well, for one thing, I don’t really do “let’s get plastered” any more.

However, now this thing happens more often – even when I haven’t been drunk and can remember (I think) more or less everything.

Like today.

It’s just bloody stupid and I realise it’s my mind playing tricks on me.

Or that I’m going mad.

Or that I really have said/done something but I have forgotten and all that remains is this nagging doubt that I HAVE said/done something bad. Well, not necessarily “bad” but certainly not “good”.

As long as it’s not the last thing, then it’s OK, I guess

Books are important

Posted on 11 March, 2014 by Andy

For those of you who have been reading my blog for a long time, you will know I have a bit of a thing about books.

I read.

Obviously, even if you’ve been reading for a short time, you will know this from the fact that I read so many books last year on holiday. But, if you’ve been reading for some time (and by that I mean years), you will also know that I also have a thing about other people and their reading habits.

So, when my niece (really V’s niece but she still calls me Uncle Andy) was young, I used to let her read to me. She loved it and every time we would go up to his parents’ house, she would rush to show me her latest book from school and sit on my knee and read away. They were not a “reading family” and I think it was the only time, outside school, that she read to anyone. We used to go up there every Saturday, so it was a weekly thing between Ay and me. It was important for me too. I felt that I had to try to instil into her a love of reading, even if I was going against the tide.

Then, there was the time, after V, when I went on my “hunt” for a new man and ended up going to see this guy in Venice (he with the wrinkly elbows) and the most noticeable thing about his place was that there were no books! And that was certainly one of the deal-breakers.

It’s a strange thing really because none of my long-term partners have ever been big readers. V had only read a couple of books in his whole life! F doesn’t really read a lot (he’s more “visual”).

And, yet, I put a lot of store in reading.

When I was a kid, although it’s a long time ago and I don’t remember exactly, my parents would read to us (my sister and I) regularly. If I remember correctly, it was every night, when they put us to bed. As we got older and had separate rooms, the reading stopped but by then I had the “habit” and collected books which my parents bought for me. I had hundreds and read each one more than once. I recall one book that I had given to me when I was about 12. It was called Lone Wolf. It was too difficult for me and I couldn’t read it. I was quite upset that I found it too difficult. But, a couple of years later, I was old enough and read it. Since then I have been one of those people that simply has to finish a book, even if I find that I don’t like it as I read it.

So, it was not a particular surprise to read this piece about reading habits and how they are “passed down”, in general.

If I had ever had kids, I would certainly read to them every night until they were sufficiently adept enough to be reading on their own.

There’s nothing better than a good book to read, even if new technology seems to make books redundant. And that’s quite sad – not for me but for those youngsters who don’t learn (for it is a learnt thing) how to read and enjoy a book.

Finally, I understand.

Posted on 5 March, 2014 by Andy

We had clients at work last week. Just for a couple of days.

When I ran my own business, a couple of days (or, even a few hours for that matter) with clients would leave me totally drained, exhausted, shagged out. Of course, it was my business, so I expected it.

Coming here and, now, working for someone else, I assumed that would go away and, to some extent, it has. I don’t reach the end of each day completely knackered.

I originally put that down to the fact that, without the business to worry about, I often sleep through the whole night instead of waking at 2 or 3 and staying awake for a couple of hours.

But, even so, the clients still exhaust me.

And, then I read this article about small talk and, half way through, I found the thing.

I am naturally introverted. I don’t speak to people easily (not like F nor V before him). At parties or large gatherings, I’ll quite happily – well, I say quite happily but, of course, it’s not happily since I feel uncomfortable and out of my depth and just want to go home as soon as possible – stay in the corner or, if I can find poor sod to talk to, I’ll cling to them like a limpet! The bright side to the latter is that I do have a few friends as a result of that – I obviously didn’t bore them enough!

But, in the article it explains that a naturally introverted person will feel exhausted after small talk. And that’s certainly me.

So, that partly explains why I feel exhausted after I’ve been with clients. After all, most of the time I don’t actually “like” them, as people but I have to make small talk, which I find difficult. I’m British and so, certainly, we talk about the weather. And I can talk about my dogs. And, being here, I can talk about living here. But that’s it. And to make it worse, I have to be cheerful and pleasant to people that, sometimes, I would rather stab with a large blade! Many times. So it really hurts.

But, of course, I don’t and wouldn’t. But I would really like to walk away and not speak to anyone.

And one of the problems with making small talk is showing interest in a) other people who would, normally, bore me to tears and b) anything they’re interested in (like, who cares about your tropical marine fish? Not me!)

And so, the day after I was so tired you cannot believe how bad it was. I would have preferred not to talk to anyone, even F! I would have preferred to have sat at my desk and not moved. But none of these things are possible. However, I probably seemed grumpy – so, sorry Pietro – but if you read this and the article you may understand how bad it is for me?

Anyway, at least I know I’m not alone with this problem. So that’s the bright side, I suppose.

UK Government murdering vulnerable people

Posted on 1 March, 2014 by Andy

Atos have been under fire for a while now. Recently there was a case of someone in a coma being “invited”* to attend an interview for either a health assessment or to find out why she hadn’t got a job (I don’t remember the exact details).

The DailyHateMail had been fighting for some time to stop the “scroungers” on benefit from obtaining money by which to live. Using provocative language, they regularly “out” those who have been convicted of benefit fraud and, in doing so, get people to think that everyone who is claiming benefit is a scrounger who doesn’t want to work.

The “fit for work” assessments have been proved to be excessive and morally wrong.

So, although today, the same paper does have this article about a man dying as a result of Atos declaring him fit to work and the DWP stopping his benefits, one has to wonder why it isn’t the main item or, even, why it isn’t given as much prominence as those (few) that are found to be cheating the system?

The headlines should read as I have put in my title. It is outrageous that, in the 21st century, vulnerable people are being murdered by the state. This was what Dickens wrote about and here we are, a hundred-odd years later, having the same kind of compassion.

Truly dreadful. Makes me ashamed to be British.

Fucking politicians.

Treacle Tart

Posted on 1 March, 2014 by Andy

Another of the old favourites. Italians also seem to like this. The troppo sweetness of the Golden Syrup (I obviously found it one time here – details in link below) is cut through by the sharpness of the lemon zest and juice. I have made it with bought pastry, but it’s not quite so nice. Again, this is from the Hamlyn All Colour Cook Book. If you can find Golden Syrup, give it a try!

Ingredients:

Pastry –
4 oz plain flour / 113g farina tipo 00
pinch salt / pizzico sale
1 oz lard / 28g strutto
1 oz butter / 28g burro

Filling –
8 oz golden syrup / 227g sciroppo di zucchero di canna (parlzialmente invertito)
2 0z fresh white breadcumbs / 57g pangrattato bianco fresco/appena (I’m not sure which word applies)
grated rind of 2 lemons / scorza grattugiata di 2 limone
2 teaspoons lemon juice / 2 cucchiaini di succo di limone

Method:

Sieve flour and salt into a bowl. Add the lard and butter cut into small pieces and rub into the flour until the mixture resembles fine breadcrumbs. Add enough water to mix to a firm dough. Roll out pastry thinly on floured table and use to line a 7-inch (18 cm) flan dish (although I always use a normal dinner-size plate instead). Re-roll pastry trimmings and cut into circles with a 3/4-inch (1.9 cm) fluted cutter. Brush underside of each with water and arrange, overlapping, round the edge of the dish.

Mix together the syrup, breadcrumbs, lemon rind and juice. Spoon filling into flan.

Bake for about 25 minutes in the oven (400°F/200°C/Gas mark 8) until the pastry is pale and golden.

Serve hot or cold. on it’s own or with hot custard (crema)

Being a foreigner; another first!

Posted on 24 February, 2014 by Andy

It’s probably about 10.30 p.m.

Maybe 11.

It’s Friday night and I’m taking the dogs out for their final time that night. It’s a bit later than normal as tomorrow is Saturday and a lie in. If I take them too early, they will want to be out early the next morning and, I’m sorry, but I can’t do that at the weekend. Well, I could and, obviously, have but I prefer not to if I can help it.

We had been to Liù for a pizza earlier. It was a bit strange in that, when we were sitting there waiting for the pizzas to come, I had this sudden moment when I felt that I was in a foreign land. Of course, I AM in a foreign land but as I’ve been here quite a long time now, I don’t tend to notice. It is my “normal” and it’s not new. So, although most of the time I hear Italian all around me, it doesn’t seem strange nor does it feel like I live somewhere foreign. And yet, just for about 20 minutes, I felt as if I were not in my own country.

It’s not that it was a bad thing. It just “was”. And, in some way, I marvel in it. If I had been told when I was young that I would up sticks so late in life and go and live in Italy, I’m not sure that I would have believed it. Retire, maybe, but just to come and live and work here, probably not.

Anyway, I digress. So, there I am, going out with the dogs for their last walk.

We come out of the building and turn right, as always. They know which way to go. Dino does his first pee on the nearest car, as always. Piero usually waits to the first junction.

As we approach the junction, a car pulls up and half-blocks the entrance to the road on the right. I don’t think anything of it. I mean people sometimes park there like that.

These people don’t get out though and the engine is still running.

We cross the junction to continue our way down the “perfect street” and I glance inside the car as the courtesy light is on.

And I see something that I’ve never, ever seen before. I mean to say, I’ve seen it on films and TV but never in real life!

A line of what I can only assume is cocaine is on some sort of hand-held flat surface (maybe the back of a phone or a mirror), the passenger is holding the said flat surface whilst the driver snorts the white powder.

There, in the street (well, the car) in full sight of anyone (that would be me) walking past!

Obviously, as I’ve never taken any drug apart from stuff for illness, tobacco and alcohol, I get sort-of excited about this. I mean, this is for real!

I guess that most people will have seen this since it seems that the snorting of cocaine is fairly common from what I have read or seen on TV or in films.

However, for me it was a rather strange first.

Thes Mediolanum Lif

Thes – Old English for "this", neuter of thes, of West Germanic origin: Mediolanum – old name for Milan: Lif – Old English for "life", of Germanic origin; related to Dutch lijf, German Leib 'body'