It’s a mad, mad world
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Tag Archives: Strange things
In the event that a volcano erupts, please panic!
When I was young, so less than half a century ago, we went abroad once. I was 14. Actually, that’s not entirely true. When I was about 5, my parents took me and my sister to Guernsey. I remember it because we had a thing called ‘High Tea’ about 5 p.m. This was for kids only and was something like beans on toast. I guess we didn’t have ‘Dinner’ later but I don’t really remember.
Anyway, I digress. Our holiday, when I was 14, involved a caravan trip. My parents reckoned (and they were right) that this would be the last holiday that we would go on as a ‘family’.
The six of us, with the caravan trailing behind us, overloaded with the awning in which the kids would sleep, made our way to Portsmouth (or maybe Weymouth) on the south coast and then, by ferry to France. We then motored through France to the south west, somewhere near Bordeaux.
It was before package holidays took off.
Before that, when I was about 10 or 12, I remember my father going to the USA on a business trip. I remember it because he brought back a gonk for each of us kids
and a pair of bright purple loons for me!
Which I loved, by the way. And, anyway, no one in the backwater of Hereford had them, fashion not quite having reached Hereford by then (has it now?).
Certainly, when we went to Guernsey, we flew. This must have been very expensive as this was the days before package holidays and easy air travel. It was all more ‘exclusive’ then. a little bit special.
How different is it now? Now, we think nothing of hopping on a plane to go to the other side of the world. In fact, we consider air travel first when we think of going abroad – just like we shall be going to the UK at the end of July. It never even crossed my mind to go by rail or coach or any other means. It was just a matter of searching for the cheapest flight.
Which, of course, leads us to now. Now, with a volcano erupting and throwing ash everywhere. How very inconsiderate it is?
I feel sorry for the people ‘stranded’ far away from home. I know some that are. It is difficult. However, it is also an adventure! The adventure being to find another way home or to find something to do or somewhere to sleep or eke out savings or credit cards. It could be fun, if you put your mind to it.
I also feel sorry for those whose businesses rely on people being able to fly in and out of any country they wish – hotels, restaurants, the general hospitality industry. Then are those flower sellers in Nigeria (isn’t that close to some countries where people are currently close to starvation?) having to throw away all the flowers because they can’t fly them to Europe. Then, of course, there are the providers of exotic, perishable goods – with warnings that the shops will soon experience shortages (I’m sure it won’t make much of a dent in Tesco’s record profits for next year). Yes, all these people whose lives and businesses are affected – it’s really dreadful for them.
But, those of you who do read my blog often enough will know there’s always a ‘but’, lets’ take a little step back from this.
No one actually MADE these people go abroad for their holiday. If you have a business, think how it was done back in the 60s – one rarely flew abroad for business then, did one? So, if you ARE stranded, before getting angry that no one has yet come to save you, think, perhaps about why you are there and get on with getting back. There are ways. They still have ships plying between New York and the UK, for example! And, apparently, you can book from (anywhere) on board some freighter ships!
If you’re stuck in the EU or the USA, remember these are civilised countries and there will be help available, if you look hard enough. If you’re stuck in some shit-hole, please try to remember that you CHOSE to go there. If it’s not ‘civilised’ – well, what was the point in going there if all you were going to do was stay in a four-star hotel and sip drinks on the terrace?
And then there is the coincidental loss of business. I do feel sorry for the Nigerian ‘farmers’ forced to throw away all those exotic flowers they grow so that (said in voice using received pronunciation – i.e. like what the Queen speaks) ‘one can have a rather glorious flower arrangement for one’s table’ – but I just can’t quite get my head round the fact that, on the same continent, there are people dying for want of food!
No, there’s something wrong somewhere, for certain.
To be honest, our little experience was all rather fun and interesting – but, then, it wasn’t me with the problem – I was just helping. And, as I write this, I see that flights are, again, coming in to Malpensa and Linate and, in fact, flying all over Europe!
But the things I have written above was brought about because people are starting to get angry, it would seem. Angry? Are you joking? 40 or 50 years ago only the rich would be in this position. Now everyone is at it but still they expect it to be ‘handled’ by the government. They expect that they shouldn’t be ‘ripped off’. The world is a crazy, crazy place.
But I kept thinking about the air safety drill, given on board aircraft before you take off. You know?
In the event of a loss of cabin pressure, masks like this one will come down from the panel above your head.
In the event of us landing on water, you will find the lifebelt under your seat.
In the event that a volcano erupts, please panic!
>p.s. I just want to add that there are some people for whom I feel genuinely sorry. Not everyone has a credit card to enable them to get home or family or friends who will help. It’s just the people that get so angry about it all and I keep on thinking – but no one actually MADE you go there in the first place!
Five minutes away and yet ………
“I’m going to stay at yours tonight because I will miss you so much”
That would have been nice. Instead, the reason given was that “I won’t see the babies”!
“But you will”, I protest.
“Yes, I know but I won’t be there with them at night”
“But you can stay, you know?”, I reply.
“Yes but you have visitors and it will be difficult”
Of course, I’m not upset that he wants to be with the dogs. It pleases me a lot that he likes them so much but, you know, it would have been nice if he had said that he would miss me too. I’m not really complaining though, it just crossed my mind.
Italians are funny when it comes to hospitality and staying with other people. We (people from the UK) are definitely more relaxed about it all. He seems to worry that he can’t stay at mine whilst Best Mate is here. I have explained it’s OK but to no avail.
I only wonder if I will miss him so much that one night I have to go and stay with him? Of course, as the dogs will be clean and with short hair, they could come with me – but then I would leave Best Mate alone and, so, I probably won’t. So, 5 nights without him and yet he will be just 5 minutes down the road. Hmmmph!
In the supermarket (Siamo in Italia)
He is at the back of the queue. I have to squeeze past him to get the the two bags of dog food – which is all I want. By the time I get back, he is still at the back of the queue but with a woman who, I assume initially, is his wife as he is has no basket.
They are talking. eventually, due to the slowness of all operations, the queue edges forward. He offers to let the woman go before him. I see, then, that he is holding a toothbrush whilst she has a basket. She declines but he insists, explaining that he has only the toothbrush to buy but also only has a large denomination note. I see it, wrapped round the toothbrush. My knowledge of large denomination notes being a bit hazy (if only I were so rich!) I suppose it is €200 or something since it is not the orange of the 50 nor the green of the 100.
When she reaches the conveyor belt she unloads her shopping but, just before the cashier starts putting it all through, she gestures to the man behind (who is immediately in front of me) to say that he only has the one thing and he should go first. There are a few moments that must have been something like – ‘No, it’s OK, you carry on’ – ‘No, you only have the toothbrush’ – ‘But, really, it’s OK’ – ‘No, I insist’, etc, etc.
He hands the cashier the toothbrush and she rings it through. He proffers the note, unfolding it at the same time. I see now that it is a €500 note!
The cashier says she can’t take it. He mumbles something about it being all he has. She says he has to go to the main desk or, because there is some sort of strike, to the only other cashier who is wearing a white coat. At this point, with all the time wasted, I am hoping that the other cashier is wearing a white coat so that she can take me away before I kill him, the woman who let him go or the cashier – or, all three!
He asks if what he should get is change and the cashier replies in the affirmative. She cancels the operation and serves the woman in front whilst the man wanders off.
The cashier completes the woman’s shopping and tells her how much it is. The woman is still putting things in bags. She is slow. Instead of offering the money so that things can move on, she continues to pack as if she is deaf and has not heard the cashier ask for money.
We wait. Eventually, she has finished the packing of things into bags – two bags when it would easily have fitted into one. The bill is €11 and something. She hands over ten Euros. She then proceeds to dig around her bag for her small purse with change. It is the tiniest purse I have seen and black. No wonder it took her five minutes to find!
She takes out all the change and proffers it to the cashier with an open palm. The cashier takes two Euro and gives her the change.
It’s my turn. Except the man with the toothbrush returns. He excuses himself and I grunt. The cashier rings up the toothbrush. It is €2 something. He comes out with the smallest note he had been given – €50!
This she can accept but she asks for the change as they do here – i.e. the few cents. He explains that this is all he has. I seriously want to kill them all at this point. I want two bags of dog food FFS!
He pats his jacket and trousers in a show of ‘Look, I really have no money’ and then, as if by magic, puts his hand in one pocket and brings out some change! I am gobsmacked!
He offers the change to the cashier. She explains that, by giving him €3 in coins, it is not necessary to use the €50 note. She takes the €3. At this point, if there HAD been something else I am almost fairly certain that I would have killed everyone. So, all this time he actually had the money, more or less, without needing to resort to using/changing the €500 note nor holding up everyone with long explanations of why he was using a €500 note when in fact he didn’t need to use it at all.
As I say, Siamo in Italia (sorry Lola, Pietro et al).
For sure …….. maybe.
He doesn’t want to talk about it. He doesn’t want me to come. I took Lola’s advice (thanks Lola) and asked. I think he appreciated the thought but then said he doesn’t want to talk about Friday.
He doesn’t want me to come to Tuscany, either. Well, actually I don’t know that he doesn’t. Anyway, it’s probably a good thing not to go. Too many difficulties in that. This all needs to be a more gentle introduction. I am being too selfish.
And, yet………
It’s not like he’s pushing me away. He’s just stubborn – even more than me. He’s already told me that when he’s ill he doesn’t even want anyone in the house, let alone looking after him.
He’s a strange guy, for sure.
Last night we went to see a film – Mine Vaganti. This was a really difficult one for me as all the talking was very fast and, although I had already got the plot from the internet, I missed out on some of the jokes, of course.
Then we went for a pizza at Le Specialità . We were with a colleague of his and her husband. They raved about the pizza but, at €14 plus for a pizza with ham, I thought it was overpriced – about double what I would normally expect to pay – and although all the ingredients were obviously fresh, it was not worth the doubling of the price.
Still, a nice evening and at least I did understand the film, more or less (although it was all a bit ‘done before’).
On the way home he mentions about going to his parents and that he hadn’t really made up his mind. He added that it was six months since he last saw them. I said that he should go – that he had to go, kicking myself inwardly as I said it. But it’s true. He must/should go. By doing it this weekend we keep Easter free for us. He explained the excuse he would give for going down this weekend rather than Easter. It would seem that he wants to spend Easter with me. Maybe we go to the lake or for a day out or two and lunch in a restaurant.
Either way, I think he wants to and doesn’t want to go – in as much as he wants to spend the time with me. I think. I hope.
Swimming in Glue
I don’t know if you’ve ever made Treacle Tart – mixing the Golden Syrup with the breadcrumbs and lemon zest – the ‘treacle’ being so thick it’s difficult to mix and you have to force the spoon through? Or maybe you’ve been wading through water with a strong current against you?
The phone saga continues. It seems as if there are about 6 different people dealing with it – and none of them talk to each other. Then there’s the bank. Well a branch of the bank that are unable to be part of the same group as another branch of the same group.
And then there’s this computer. Running so slow as to almost grind to a halt.
And it’s snowing.
And it’s very cold.
On the plus side I’ve watched three episodes of The Tudors (series 3). It is good but one would think that everything they did at that time revolved around sex – there being naked bodies in every other screenshot.
Last night I went out with A for a couple of beers at the Birrificio – Lambrate where, apparently, they brew their own beer. I had a couple of nice beers (Porpora) – what they call red beer (a darker bitter rather than the light lager-type that the continent is famous for). Quite strong but very drinkable. It’s one of those places where it is better to book a table in advance. We were lucky and found a table but it was the only table left that had not been booked. But it is a strange thing – to have to book a table at a pub, don’t you think?
F also texted me to say he had bought me a present. I’m not sure why or what it is. He said that he hoped I didn’t already have it.
And today is our mesaversary – well the mesaversary of the day we met (which, to be honest is almost the same as the day we became a couple :-D).
And, someone who is reading this blog thinks that my writing reflects the fact that I am, ahem, gay! Really, AnaP? Well, I suppose, to some extent it would but I’m not sure that it makes that much difference. Although I do note that the people who spend a lot of their time on FB (and, in particular FV) are women or gay. I wonder if anyone has ever done a survey on that? Not that that particular point has much to do with my style of writing here but I thought it was interesting to note is all.
Anyway, it feels like I’m swimming in glue right now.
A habit that I like
I know he’s awake. Well, when I say ‘awake’ I mean semi-conscious, at least.
People have habits. Each person has different habits. Things they do that are not necessarily strange in themselves but are done to excess (comparatively) or are fashioned only by some ‘freaky’ way that their body is built or their mind works.
I have the ‘habit’ of washing my hands. I do it a lot. My hands feel ‘dirty’ often and I take every opportunity to wash them. Well, that’s not entirely true. I am aware this is some sort of Obsessive Compulsive Disorder and so I actually stop myself from doing it quite often – aware that, in fact, it is not really necessary. But, for instance, when I put hand cream on (which I have to do since the end of 2008, at least from time to time) my immediate thought is that I want to go and wash my hands. Which I don’t do, obviously, since it would negate the effects of the hand cream and, anyway, it was because of prolonged ‘wetness’ that they became like this in the first place.
I am sure I have many other annoying or funny habits.
F has, for me, very peculiar (but quite beautiful) feet. If I say they are similar to the Hobbits feet from the Lord of the Rings films – but less hairy – that would give you the wrong impression. But, in some way, they are. Not large like Hobbits feet, nor, as I have said, hairy but he really has no ‘little toe’. I mean to say he DOES have a little toe it’s just that it’s not so little. In fact it looks the same as the other toes and almost as big.
But there’s a thing about his feet. When I move my toes, including the big one, they all move together. they are not like fingers. What F can do and does subconsciously, I am sure, is move them individually.
And so, in bed, if his feet are pressed against my leg or feet and he is semi-conscious (i.e. as he’s waking up), he will (and this is the only way I can really describe it) drum his toes against my leg/foot.
And, like almost everything about him, I love it. It’s a peculiar thing to him (as far as I am aware although readers may put me straight on that, I suppose) and, so, ‘special’. And, every time it happens, I like it and think of his feet and feel safe and warm and comfortable.
Thank goodness he doesn’t actually read this blog!
Proof. I’m sure of it.
Google’s announcement made a big splash across China. On the day, many net users voiced their support for the company and some even demonstrated in front of the company’s headquarters. Local people were showing their respect for a company that will finally apply its global motto “Don’t Be Evil” to China, treating it the same as other markets. I am sure traffic on Google.cn doubled, if not tripled, on that day as Google removed the content filtering. This proves how eager Chinese users are for an unfiltered internet environment.
I’m not sure that Google are all that wonderful. After all, they did agree to a form of censorship in the beginning and there was a lot of criticism at the time, I seem to remember. So now that they’ve decided they don’t want to do it any more, how does that make them something great? Something great would have been to not have agreed to it in the first place. Although, being as cynical as I am, it would not have grabbed headlines for so long.
However, that’s not why I have posted this quote from here. No, the reason is that I was shocked to read that it is now ‘proved’ that the Chinese are eager for unfiltered access.
What proves it? You may well ask. Well, apparently, it’s the doubling (or, even, tripling) of traffic on Google on the day they removed the filtering.
I say ‘apparently’ because, in fact, it is not a fact. However, the author is ‘sure’ this is the case.
I am sure that I am the most handsome man, ever. Therefore this proves that I am. Aren’t I just lucky? (It’s OK, there’s no need to comment, folks!)
Streets paved with…….what?????; Ironing what?????
It’s cold. We’re all wearing thick coats and hats. Mind you, there’s not that many people around. I guess, partly, because it’s still lunchtime.
I’ve had my hair cut and am walking to the cigarette shop. I go down the street with the fantastic Art Noveau buildings – something to be seen in Milan, one of which is pictured at the top of my blog.
I’m following this guy, rather rotund, wearing one of those hats with the fur flaps that come down to cover the ears – like a deerstalker a bit but I don’t remember the proper name.
He didn’t look like one of the homeless guys. I mean he was only carrying one plastic bag which looked like it only had a couple of things, at most, in it. But his next action was quite surprising.
He suddenly stops, looking at something on the ground, then stoops and picks it up.
Not as you might think, a coin or something that might be of either value or interest.
No, he picks up a comb. An ordinary black, plastic comb. On the street. Probably used.
Puts it in his pocket and continues to walk on and around the next corner. As I am going straight on, I turn slightly to glimpse someone who is probably around 60, grey beard, not untidy chap.
What a strange thing to do, I thought.
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F has changed me in many ways. Or, rather, I do some things now that I would never have done in the past. One of these is ironing sheets For me, what was crucial was that they were clean. Now, yesterday, because my bloody cleaner is so slow I find that all the clean sheets are still to be ironed.
So, as a couple of weeks ago, F, who had been really busy was so apologetic about the fact that he had had no time to iron the sheets, I ironed sheets. Never really saw the point of it myself. I mean, you put them on the bed and by the end of the first night they are never perfect. So why bother?
Yet here I am, ironing sheets.
OK, so I admit that they are better having been ironed. But still. As someone who loathes ironing, this was really going over the top!
Bah!
Hang on, my jewelry is escaping…….!
I’m sorry but this is a little disconcerting for me.
Pets are one thing. I don’t really like the idea of dogs with coats, cats that aren’t allowed out of the house, etc. But……..
Encrusting your pet beetle (?) with jewels and then wearing it as a brooch? Now that they’re stopping the docking of dogs tails and the slicing of their ears, I would have thought that this, too, would be considered wrong.
I can understand a pet beetle, kept in a tank and in an environment that, at least, can be made similar to the real one – but on your jumper, pinned as some sort of jewellery and, even worse, encrusted with jewels?
The world has gone mad.