I’m just an ordinary, simple kind of bloke. I like food, beer and wine, the sun, relaxing, reading, watching a good film, having good times and conversations with friends, etc.
I don’t like football, ignorant and bigoted people, bad food, driving, smelly people, etc.
I don’t have hidden depths. Scratch the surface and there’s just more surface, nothing else.
This was going to be a long, rambling post but I decided to cut it short.
Jack would be appalled.
Having had a dreadful time that evening already and being much later than normal, I pay for the supermarket items I have bought with a card. The total cost is €40.02. I hand over my debit card.
‘Have you got the 2 cents?’
Perhaps I should say why we were in Scotland?
I have not been to many weddings but there are two that stand out as being the most magical and romantic weddings of all. Both were held in Scotland and both held at a castle. And, for both, we felt most honoured to be invited.
The first was for our dear friends B&M. Not only was it held in the rose garden of the castle (it was such beautiful weather) but we also stayed for two nights in the castle itself as guests of the bride and groom.
And it was one of the most fun times that I have ever had at a wedding.
The second one was when we went to Scotland this month. We did not stay at the castle but in a hotel nearby. But it was a short walk to the castle. This was an evening wedding and, by the time we started walking to the castle, it was already dark.
But the castle was lit up and, funnily enough, it is the same castle that I used to see from the motorway when I drove up to see B&M when they were still in business, so it was nice to finally be there, all these years later.
As we entered the castle gate there were braziers to give heat and a warm glow to the surrounding courtyard. Then another gate led to the main courtyard, around which were the buildings of the castle including the chapel (where the wedding service was held) and the Great Hall, where the feast and dancing were to take place.
In the main courtyard was a piper, piping the guests into the castle (like the other wedding) and then the chapel was lit by candles – but many, many candles and a harpist played music whilst we waited for the bride.
The bride looked resplendent and the service was beautiful. The parson, being so tall (as he explained to us later) chose to have the bride and groom facing us with himself placed to one side. It made it really nice because it meant that we saw them clearly and could hear them much better.
The meal in the Great Hall was magnificent. The dancing (especially the Scottish dancing) very good but the thing that will stick in my mind, and, I think, is a testament to the bride, is that the friends all instantly got along. In fact, it seemed, for some of the friends we met, that we had know them for years by the time the wedding was over.
Obviously we knew some from Milan but even those we just met were great. I will never forget the stories of teaching English in Hong Kong which had us rolling around with laughter. And Vanessa (from Zimbabwe) and I were both convinced we had met before!
Smokers congregated outside, as we usually do and, as expected, some of the greatest people end up there (me, obviously, being one of them 
).
Yes, we had great fun and the whole affair was truly magical. If you are planning to get married, marrying in a castle in Scotland creates a special atmosphere that can never be forgotten. Of course, the friends also help, so it’s a good idea to get some good ones!
More on our trip to the UK.
I have mentioned this before but it was particularly noticeable as I haven’t been back to the UK for a while.
People here, in Milan (and maybe the whole of Italy), walk just like they drive. There is no forward planning and manoeuvres are made at the last minute and only if absolutely necessary. Except that, the difference between people and cars is that, if you bump into another car with your vehicle there will be a lot of time spent sorting out the insurance; shouting and screaming at each other with a lot of gesturing; many years of paying extra for your insurance.
Bumping into people does not cause any of those things. So, as a result, people manoeuvre a lot less when walking and there is a lot of bumping. And, more importantly for the people from the UK – no apologising!
Whilst in the Scottish city, we had spent a couple of hours walking round the shops and dancing in the street – by that, I mean the little two-step dance whilst trying to avoid other people.
I asked V if he had noticed that, in all the time we had been walking, not once had anyone so much as brushed past us. He replied that he hadn’t but that now I had mentioned it, it was true. It was so pleasant. I must admit that, having been here for almost 4 years now, I no longer apologise when bumped into or even when I bump into someone else. It has taken all this time and a great deal of personal resolve to stop saying ‘sorry’. There is a way of walking here that means head up, stare straight ahead, ignore the fact that the person is approaching you without any intention of moving slightly out of your way and, if they are much bigger than you, only move slightly to one side at the very last possible moment. If there is any physical contact, whatever you do, DO NOT say ‘sorry’ – after all, it’s their fault for being in your way.
But it was so nice to stroll around without having bruises at the end!
I did drink a lot of tea whilst there and it was very, very nice. But I did miss the Italian coffee. So, whilst out, we saw a Café Nero and decided to go in and have the ‘real Italian coffee’ that they purported to sell.
Of course, here, a café latte is not taken so often and, certainly, is not as big as the Café Nero ‘regular’ let alone ‘large’. However, we were in the UK so a large café latte seemed in order.
Maybe it’s the water; or the coffee; or the milk – whatever it was, it did not make it particularly nice. And I very much doubt (although I didn’t try it, so I can’t be sure) that their espresso is not the best this side of Milan. After all, we have quite an area of Italy between Milan and the French border and, I can assure you, coffee in any part of Italy is superb.
I do remember that, when we still had the flat in Hay and returned to help out at the festival 3 years ago, we brought our moka back with us along with a supply of coffee so that we could make our morning fix.
More from our trip to Scotland and the differences between UK and Italian life/culture, etc.
We landed at the airport and had arranged for a taxi to take us to the city at which we were staying. There were quite a few of us. We knew about half the people and knew of, by reputation, most of the rest.
We arrived at the city and a group of us (about 6 or so) decided that we would go into town. V & I really wanted a Kentucky Fried Chicken fillet burger. I know it’s crap (junk) food but when you just can’t get something the old adage ‘absence makes the heart (or in this case, stomach) grow fonder’ was definitely in full swing.
Luckily, an Italian with us, F, was also very keen on this type of junk food and was also up for it. A couple of the others had never tasted it so had no idea. A couple of people returned to the hotel. We asked several people where the nearest (actually, only) KFC was. We had various answers, mostly quite vague. V saw Greggs and decided to have a sausage roll – as did F and one or two others.
I thought, whilst they were buying, I would find out definitively, where the KFC was. What I needed was a shop with helpful assistants. Aha, I thought; Marks and Spencer. So I walked in. The shop was spacious with plenty of room between the racks of clothes, something we rarely see here, in Italy. Something else that I hadn’t bargained for and had completely forgotten about was that, after wandering around for about 10 minutes, I still couldn’t find an assistant!
Here, in Italy, after about 1 minute an assistant would be there; offering their help. Here, in one of the most renowned stores in the UK, assistants were less than ghosts.
I gave up and went to a shoe repairers where some very pleasant local lassies gave me very precise and spot-on directions.
Later we talked about this within our group. It was consensual that, in the UK, we had driven this type of service out of existence. And, the more I thought about this the more I knew it to be true. In the UK, I used to get very annoyed if I was bothered by assistants. Sure, I wanted them to be there but only when I wanted them! Until then I wished to be left alone until I had selected what I wanted. I agree that I think the UK drove this away and I think that the UK is the worse for it.
Here, in Italy, good service – and having an assistant pay attention to you almost as soon as you walk through the door is very good service – is essential and very much expected. Here, and certainly in Milan, assistants are everywhere and I’ve got used to it now. I know how to react and use their assistance rather than discourage them from trying.
By the way, the burger was divine. I know that to you, my lovely reader, this is nothing special but to us the taste was a wonder on our tongues. I wouldn’t swap Italy for the UK but, sometimes, these things are missed.
As those of you who read my blog from time to time will know, I’m a bit of a fan (other words could be fanatic or, if you want to be really mean, nerd) of Tetley tea bags – and I don’t even get free supplies from them!
And, thanks to J (again), I have a huge (well 160) pack of said tea bags. Actually it’s really a pack of 80 but with 100% EXTRA FREE which makes it a pack of 160 in my book.
I’ve been using these for years. I don’t know how many, but it was when we lived in Woonton so at least 6 or so.
And they have come in the same blue pack from, well, as long as I can remember. In fact, I cannot remember life without these tea bags or the blue pack that they come in. Mind you, I am now approaching the age where I forget most things that are, let’s face it, completely unimportant.
One of the “features” of the pack is that the top, once opened, folds back and there is a strip of tape (for want of a better word – well, I do want a better word but I have noticed that, these days, I seem to be losing any skill that I previously had with the English language – the great shame being that my skill with the Italian language is not increasing at anywhere near the same rate as the decrease in skill for English – whoops, I probably shouldn’t have said that in case I want to teach English again) on which the words in title are printed. It’s sticky tape and on this latest pack it is clear tape (apart from the words printed). Oh yes, it also says “LIFT HERE” on the other part of the tape and has an arrow pointing to the edge of the tape which, I guess, they need now that the tape is transparent.
What a wonderful invention it is. You can open your pack of bags as many times as you like, take out a tea bag (or, if you don’t have any boiling water, sniff the contents in the hope of getting the same high) and then re-seal it.
Only one slight problem. The sticky part of this sticky tape works only for so long. If you’re really lucky, twice. But normally not even once. Thereby making the whole thing a waste of time, money and, in particular, effort on my part, to stick the opening down.
So, message to Tetley – either put some real sticky stuff on the tape or just don’t bother. What I find really annoying is that, in spite of the fact that I know it does not ‘stick’ anymore, I still attempt to stick it down every time until there are only about 5 tea bags left, at which point, there really is no point in trying to keep the tea bags fresh.
Having said all that, the rate at which I am going through them I shall have finished them all before the freshness inside notices that there is chance to hot-foot it out of there.
On a different note, it has been a beautiful day today. Quite warm and reminding one of Spring. But don’t be fooled, I’m sure that next week or the week after there will be a cold snap with frost and snow. At least we are out of the 10 days of rain which is something.
Many thanks to J, a colleague of V’s, who, yesterday, gave V 160 Tetley tea bags. Hurrah! Obviously they won’t last forever but at least I should be alright for a bit.
Sunday was the start of Men’s Fashion Week. A rang to say she had been to the Dolce and Gabbana or Versace show (I forget which) where a male model (apparently famous but I have no idea who it was) was signing a pair of men’s underpants should you buy a pair. Apparently, he was acting like Father Christmas and allowing the person having their pants signed, to sit on his knee. A and her Texan friend were tempted. Later when they were about to go they noticed that he was surrounded by gay men. Quell surprise!
For me, Fashion Week is less about fashion and more about traffic. Traffic and parking. The lesser shows are put on in available spaces – and some of the available space is in my area, so the traffic becomes unbearable and the parking non-existent.
I feel dreadful, though, that I missed both Beyonce and the Spice Girls. Well, no, that’s a lie. I don’t feel dreadful at all. And, as I’m rushing from my car to get out of the cold and rain, a nice warm house and a glass of wine seem so much more inviting.
Urgent cry for help! I have finished all my Tetley tea-bags (you know, the round ones that come in a blue packet). I still have a few nice ones which are free-trade ones from the Hay Festival – but only about 5. This means I won’t last the week out. Does anyone know how I can get hold of some in Milan? I’m afraid that tea here is far too weak, whereas Tetley round ones do the trick perfectly.
Well, it is too early, really, to be certain but there’s a possibility that Milan’s Ecopass (the equivalent to London’s Congestion Charge) may work.
It was nice to hear that M & B had had a nice time visiting A in Canada. Here, we have fireworks making all the noise and there, they have pots and pans being banged and car horns blaring. Seems like it’s only the UK that celebrates New Year more quietly (although I am aware that, these days, there are more fireworks than there used to be).
Friends are starting to arrive back from their celebrations in the South (or Paris, for some). So this weekend was doing some catching up with some friends. Saturday, V was working so we only went out in the evening but, yesterday, we did Sunday Lunch for some friends and eat the Christmas Pudding that V had been given, as Christmas Day we had gone out for lunch.
The Sunday Lunch started at just after 2 p.m. and finished (with a short shopping break) at about 11.30 p.m. This is the way Sunday Lunch should be. Long, leisurely affairs; much food (Roast Beef, Yorkshire Pudding, Horseraddish Sauce, etc.; Christmas Pudding and Brandy Sauce; Cheese) and some very good wine. And, although we drank quite a lot, because it was spread over so many hours, it didn’t cause us to suffer at all.
V wanted me to get a shirt (like one of the ones I gave as a present to V for Christmas) – but now it’s the Sales (they started on Saturday). I knew the shop (TerraNova) was in Via Torino but V informed me that they also had a shop on Corso Buenos Aires. So, I braved the rain (for it was truly miserable) to walk up there. When I got there, having dodged the many umbrellas, carried by short people but unaware, it seemed, that their umbrellas can only be described as lethal weapons and the general Italian way of not seeming to see you (i.e. they just keep on walking quite unconcerned that bumping into you or not moving out of the way is NOT acceptable to English people), I found that this shop only sold half the stuff of the other one. And although I was only out of the house about 20 minutes in total I really had had enough, so texted that I was sorry but I just couldn’t do it.
I am not a fan of shopping at the best of times but, in miserable weather, crowds of people and sales – it’s just pure torture for me.
According to S (with whom I work and is a bit of a bargain hunter – worse than V), the time to hit the Sales here, in Milan is the first weekend and then the last few days (in about a month’s time). The first few days allow you to get the best stuff and then it’s all rubbish until the last few days when the best bargains (i.e. the most discount is applied) are to be found.
So, if you were thinking of coming over for the Sales, I suggest you wait, now, until the end of January/beginning of February.