It is true that, mostly, people are nice. And when people are nice, it lifts you and gives you warm and good feelings inside.
People are nice and good things happen.
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Tag Archives: Outside Italy
Peter Florence as King?
I found this the other day and it amused me, so I thought I would share it:
If Peter Florence ran the British government, then the entire Whitehall bureaucracy would be pared down to about four blokes and a pencil sharpener. On the upside, Britain would enjoy an amazingly vibrant cultural life; on the downside, bad things would sometimes happen, like forgetting where we put the Royal Navy or losing the Isle of Wight”
Lifted from Toasting Napoleon.
Dad’s Birthday and Famous people that you know
It’s V’s Dad’s Birthday today. It’s also V’s ‘official birthday’. Just like the Queen! Actually born on the 18th of this month, but V’s passport and, therefore, all Italian documents, show today. The passport came with the wrong date and I don’t think either of us noticed until we came to Italy and it was a bit late by then. The only thing is that we have to remember, when quoting the birth date, to quote today, when we’re here.
Onto the main subject. I know some famous people. And I mean know, rather than saw or met, once. Some writers, journalists and broadcasters like Kate Mosse, Francine Stock, etc. Peter Florence, who runs the Hay Festival. Etc.
However, I have just learned that I know the Aberystwyth Hula Hoop Champion of 1984! How fantastic is that! I can say no more as they wish to protect their identity. I’m sure that, if people knew, they would be inundated with requests for autographs, etc. Maybe it would even attract stalkers.
However, I am really pleased to know the Aberystwyth Hula Hoop Champion from 1984.
Belgium – not a boring place.
Don’t you just hate it when you have busy-bodies as friends. You know the sort. They come into your house and surreptitiously wipe their finger over a table to see if the house has been dusted properly. Or, maybe, as they sit down to dinner they pick up the glass and peer through it towards the light, looking for fingerprints or greasy smears.
Worse, they go into your bathroom, supposedly to use it but really to check that it has been hygienically cleaned.
Or maybe they ‘help’ to wash up, just to check that you do it properly and when they feel you are missing an important part of the process, they tell you all about how ‘they’ do it and why and why you should do it like that too!
Don’t you just hate those sort of people?
Which made me all the more amused by this story.
Yes, I know it’s a few days old, but I’ve been so busy that I just haven’t had time to post much, sorry.
However, my take on this was as follows:
Guy, who has told his friends that his wife and stepson are away visiting the stepson’s father, invites said friends to dinner. The women, of a certain age at the gathering, offer to help clearing away the dishes. Guy, who has had a few too many to drink, thanks them. As they are clearing away, one of the women (we’ll call her ‘the nosey old trout’ or NOT), feeling sorry for him and, probably, having already checked that the general state of the place is OK by doing as I suggested above, decides that she will put away some of the uneaten food in the freezer (and will also check that he has enough to eat whilst his wife is away).
NOT goes to the freezer and starts rummaging around to see what else he has there and, underneath a pile of food finds the bodies of the wife and son. She runs back to the kitchen to consult with one of the other ladies and they phone the police.
Then, they return to the dining room and carry on as if nothing had happened, waiting for the police to arrive!
Of course, it begs the question as to why he was keeping the bodies in the freezer, why he took the risk of inviting friends round when he had the bodies in the house, etc? Judith, an expat Belgian, living in Milan, says that a lot of Belgians are quite nosey and that Guy was quite mad to invite his friends round in the first place.
There! Who ever said that Belgium was boring?
It’s all about persistence, persistence, persistence!
Its all about persistence
Persistence is the key here, in Italy and, in particular, Milan. This is true especially when it comes to bureaucracy. It comes down to the big, age-old problem of ‘taking responsibility’.
You see, from my experience, in general, they just don’t like taking any responsibility and especially if it means going out on a limb.
So, one queries how anything ever gets done here. How does anything change? If it’s not done in the time-honoured manner, then it just can’t be done.
R, my boss, explained to me that, seven years ago, a law was introduced allowing certain official documents to be circumvented (at least temporarily) by composing a self-certification document. I have the particular article of the law in front of me and the list of acceptable self-certification particulars is long.
For instance, you can certify your place and date of birth; where you are resident; professional qualifications, etc.
One small problem. For the first two years after this law was introduced, nearly everywhere refused to accept the self-certification as an official or allowed document, according to R.
And even now, some people, even if it is on their own organisation’s website, are adamant that these things are not acceptable! It’s incredible although, the more I am here, the more credible it is, given the way Italians are.
Anyway, the persistence thing comes in to play in almost every aspect, especially when dealing with officials. One office/department/even official will tell you what they know – which of course may not always be exactly how it should be – just how they know it. But, as another will tell you something slightly differently or even something opposite, it pays to keep digging and keep asking – if you can stand it, of course.
Oh, Italy would be a great country, a world-respected country, if only there wasn’t this Italian mental shrug of the shoulders – which is really to shrug off the responsibility from oneself.
Mozzies; on holiday all the time; ice-cream; Wimbledon and weather
Well, summer has truly started. Not only is it hot, and I mean hot all the time, even during the night, but the mozzies are well and truly back – big time.
A Grand Day Out
In the UK, if someone suggests a trip out, where you were going to travel for two hours to get there and two to get back, you would tend to make a day of it. So, for instance, when we lived in Herefordshire and you decided to go to, let’s say Aberystwyth, you would set of at, say, 10 a.m., reach Aberystwyth, have lunch, enjoy the afternoon having a walk around and set off home at 6 or 7 p.m.
(Italian) Words of the Day
This could be subtitled ‘Essential words when you come to Italy’.
In this case there are two. Cazzo and Vafanculo. I hear them quite often. They are not such polite words but, it seems, essential to daily life here.
At least in my office. The Commercial Manager, in whose office I reside, came back from a three-day trip yesterday. He normally sprinkles most sentences with the odd cazzo and, very occasionally, the odd vafanculo.
But, yesterday, once Si had left, he needed to find some documentation. He couldn’t find it. I have never heard so many cazzos and vafanculos in all the time I have been here, as I did in two hours yesterday afternoon.
At one point, every other word in the sentence was cazzo. Really, I mean it.
I shouldn’t really take against it so. After all, my language is not squeaky clean, as people who know me will attest to, but, really.
It also seems that, last night, for some very strange reason, he switched round the battery cables on his car resulting in a burn-out of at least one of them. Something to do with his daughter – so maybe he was trying to get her car started. Anyway, he’s not in right now (hurrah) and the damage will, apparently, cost him €500.
It couldn’t happen to a nicer guy!
A heavy weekend; too much to drink; too tired; SLTG
On driving in Italy, red lights, rain, irony, sarcasm
Yesterday morning it rained on my way to work. Not particularly heavy, but it would have made the roads potentially greasy. For that reason I tend to be a bit slower, try to give myself more time for braking by positioning myself further from the car in front, etc.
But why, I ask, that when it rains, people do the strangest of things. I mean, it’s as if it’s not raining when they pull out in front of you. This also happens when it snows.