Tag Archives: Italy

Gay – the new ‘black’

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First, there was Mine Vaganti (Loose Cannons is the English title but the direct translation, apparently, is Wandering mines (as in sea mines used in war)).  Then there was some famous latin-pop singer.  It seems there’s a lot of it about!

Then there are the discussions about it.  First the Italians talking about the film.  The reaction, in general, is that it is a ‘nice’ film although, if the Italians talking about it had three children and the two male children were both gay, I’m really not sure how that would really go down.

And then there are the discussions about the famous latin-pop star.  They basically fall into two categories.  There is the ‘who cares – his music was crap’ to the ‘who cares in 2010′ and then there is the ‘what a surprise (not)’ to the ‘oh look, he has a biography to promote’.

Being gay has never been so ordinary nor so popular!  I guess I must also be a very fortunate homosexual too, then?  Actually, not really.  I’m a very fortunate guy, certainly.  But being gay has absolutely nothing to do with it

But I do get a little disheartened by it all.  So let’s get some things straight (so to speak).

Being gay – maybe it shouldn’t make a difference and, in many ways it doesn’t but in some ways it really does make a difference and it does mean that you have to consider every action, every word spoken, etc.

I regularly (here) see couples embracing.  In fact, for me, being British, it can be downright embarrassing on the basis that they seem only a small step from having full public sex!  But, imagine walking down the street and seeing two men or two boys doing the same thing.  It’s OK, or not?  I’m thinking that, however open-minded you may be, it may not be completely OK.  Even I would be more embarrassed than I already am!

The coming out.  There’s no right time.  Of course, there should be no need to ‘come out’ at all, you may say.  But, especially if you’re straight-acting, the automatic assumption is that you’re straight.  So, women may make passes at you; colleagues at work will talk about a beautiful women in the context of you being interested, etc.  I have no problem with women making passes at me.  It is, after all, very flattering.  However, I do feel that it would be unfair if I let them continue when there’s no chance of it going any further, don’t you?  And, so, there IS a need to come out, unfortunately. And although it’s not necessary, strictly speaking, I do really get fed up with people make lewd comments to me about females and expecting me to react in a ‘blokish’ way and, so, would love to ‘come out’ to them. I noticed that, with people who know, there are no comments about women in that way – at least not in my company.

The Family. OK so this is, probably, the hardest of them all. It doesn’t really matter how difficult it is or isn’t to come out to your friends or in the workplace – but coming out to your family is an entirely different thing. The problem here is that, however, relaxed and open-minded they may all seem (and for certain mine weren’t so I knew what the reaction would be before it ever happened), it’s an entirely different ball-game when it’s your son/brother/cousin/father/uncle etc. Even then most open of people can, deep down, harbour those prejudices that we are ‘taught’ when young. And, of course, it’s worse when it’s one of ‘your own’.

I mean, how can you face the outside world? What explaining you’ll have to do!

And, just in case you think that, just because I write all this here I am one of those people who are ‘out’ well, yes, to some degree. But not everyone knows at work and, having gone through all the crap between the ages of 18 and 25, I just can’t be bothered to go through it all again – except I find myself having to do so here, in this country where the film Mine Vaganti rings true as it would have done in the UK about 20-odd years ago!

So, although everyone ‘knew’ about Ricky, and although I don’t have any particular feeling about him (gay or not), I can feel the slightest bit sorry for him. Whether he did it now or later; whether it was for the book, to boost his flagging career or none of those (the timing would always be wrong for some people); whatever the reason, we shall never really know the reasons why he kept it secret for so long (what pressures he was under to ‘keep it all under wraps) or why he decided to come out now (maybe writing the book and seeing how his life to date was built on lies). At least he has come out and now we can get on with loving or hating his music and he can get on with his life.

How to find a new job

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Here, in Italy, it seems to be all about people you know.  Certainly, A, who is currently looking for a new job, finds it much more difficult because his family are not from this area and his network of people is smaller.  Therefore, his search is made more difficult.

In the UK, of course, it doesn’t work like that.  Or, does it?

Certainly for the more menial of jobs, the lower end, the starting, it may not work like that.  Higher up, except for public office, it probably does, more or less.

So, if I was to go back to the UK and start to look for a job, almost certainly, the first thing I would do is tell all my friends in the hope that, one of them would know someone who was looking for someone like me.  For someone who is looking for a very well paid job in the private sector it is exceedingly difficult.

If you are currently in a position but know that, soon, you will be, in effect, redundant you need to make discreet enquiries.

And, should you be lucky enough to have an informal discussion with the potential new employer, it is, of course, important to sell your skills and abilities and bring your best attributes forward.  So, if you have a particular skill that is very relevant to the job in question, you would try to show the potential employer how your skill is better than anyone else’s.

This becomes more difficult if you are talking about a soft skill and you will be a consultant.

If I were going to an English company, trying to tell them how my Italian experience could help them, for example, I might say that my Italian is pretty good.  I might also tell them how I have a number of contacts in the field in which they were working and how I might call those contacts to help me to help the new company to gain more business and more market share or, if they were looking for suppliers, how I could get special prices or a particularly good service or something.

Of course, all this would be ‘off the record’.  And, to be honest, I could not come with guarantees – but I wouldn’t be telling them that – and, anyway, they should know that.  I would only be affecting introductions to the people I know.  It would then be up to them to make those contacts work, to sell the company (although, of course, I would help with that).

What I wouldn’t do is to wait until I was redundant and then try and hawk my round potential employers.  That would be madness.  And, if I didn’t find a job quickly, the contact list may go a little cold.  No, far better to look for a job whilst you are still employed in the old job.

It all seems very reasonable, yes?

Then why, I ask, is it quite OK for everyone to do that type of thing except politicians?  Politicians, let’s be honest here, live in an unreal world and invariably have very little real-world skill except the ability to speak and convince people of their ideas.  They are, in fact, like salesmen.  Knowing nothing of real value except, perhaps, they do have a lot of mates in places of power and influence.

When they become unemployed, what the hell do they do for a job?  And certainly, a job that will pay them the sort of salary they and their families are used to.

And this latest craze for setting up a ‘sting’ to trap current politicians into saying things we would rather they didn’t – like, I’ve got a lot of good mates in a position to, maybe, help you with government contracts, etc. – is really out of order.

We expect them to behave like angels whilst in office (which is unrealistic anyway, since they are only human beings) but to expect them to be perfect once they know they will be leaving and to NOT use their contacts to help them with their ‘next life’ seems more than unreasonable but completely stupid.

I’m not a fan of politicians.  The days of altruistic men and women, going in to the government to make this world a better place seem long gone (although, probably, it was never thus).  They seem a more sleazy, corrupt bunch of people than one finds outside their crazy world but this latest attempt to ‘out’ them seems unjust and simply a media trick to sell more newspapers or get more TV viewers.

You know, there’s those sayings about throwing stones and glass houses and things.  I wonder when this will all come back to haunt the people doing the throwing?

As weak as a baby

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25/3/10

He turns to me and slips his free arm around me; his other being above my head – I’ve tried this but can’t do it. He cuddles me and he’s warm and it feels good.

There are times, many times, when I feel secure in his love, knowing, as I do, that we both want this.

As I think of it now it gives me that warm feeling, deep inside, warming me in a way that, although not true, I’ve never been warmed before.

He wasn’t feeling so well. His stomach – although what, exactly, was wrong, I still couldn’t ascertain.

He wanted to watch L’isola di famosi which is the Italian version of I’m a celebrity get me out of here – but it’s not quite the same, we are in Italy, after all.

I lay on the bed with him and just wanted to hug him and kiss him but, instead, didn’t even touch him as he had the bad stomach and, even after this short time together, I know better than to do that.

So I let him reach for my hand; him turn over to me and rest his head on my shoulder – yes, he calls the shots and, sometimes, I feel as weak and stupid as a baby.

I write this on my way to Bologna; the restaurant is booked for lunch. I invited him to come but he couldn’t or didn’t want to – I suspect what with tomorrow and the test results and the travelling down to his parents, etc.

And I think that he will miss me and think that he wants me with him and I wonder when he will be back home and what he will want to do when he gets back.

In the meantime there is this evening – S&N’s leaving aperitivo. I have made arrangements to go with L, who lives round the corner from me. He is invited. I made the decision that I couldn’t wait for him or ‘not go’ and, so, I go anyway. We shall see if he comes or, if not, then what he will propose for the night – me having made the decision that I will be strong and stay at mine – knowing all along that I am as weak as a baby when it comes to him ………

For sure …….. maybe.

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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.

Travelling to the North Pole – and other bits and bobs

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I hate travelling.

Well, that’s not really true.  The actual travelling I don’t mind so much.  I hate the bit where you have (as in this case) half an hour before you get the taxi or whatever.  If I were going on my own, I would get a taxi now and go.  I would be at the airport early but no matter.  However, I have to get a taxi in about half an hour and pick some other people up along the way to the airport.  So I am ready (more or less) but have half an hour to spare.

I hate to be late but, in this case, I cannot be early.  I hate the thought of missing the plane (even if I don’t actually want to go) and so I am early and ready but am now twiddling my thumbs, so to speak.  The kettle is boiling for my last decent warm drink for some days to come.

The weather here has warmed up quite a lot.  Now we get highs of 15 or 16 degrees in the afternoon.  Where I’m going it will get to 3 degrees, if I am lucky and there might be some snow.  I am going, quite obviously, much further north.  Regular readers will know that I don’t like ‘cold’.  Hmph!  Already, I can’t wait to get back.

F is away also so I have had to make other arrangements for the dogs.  Not ideal but the best I can do.  F is back on Friday night so will stay with the dogs that night.  I am back the next day.  I miss him a lot but you have no idea how pleasant it is to be with someone who a) loves their job and b) works hard at it.  I really have no problem with it, even if I miss him like crazy when he is away.

The night before last, he received some gifts for his birthday (more than 2 months later).  Tickets to see Whitney Houston in Milan and a night at a range of hotels in Italy.  As he rightly pointed out, I get the benefit too.

One of the things with V was that V would say something but it would never actually transpire.  I’ve found that F does the same.  It’s not quite the same but annoying all the same.  So, the ‘we’re going to Tuscany at Easter’ has turned into him going to Tuscany the week before or something like that.  I mean, I don’t mind but I wish he hadn’t said that it was ‘we’ in the beginning.  It’s not that he doesn’t keep his word, exactly, it’s just that when the time actually comes, with all the logistics, things change, whereas, if I say something then, for me it is set.  Still, I’m learning and at least it is not as bad as V’s specials.

So now we have no specific plans for Easter.  It’s only the extra days’ holiday but I intend to take some extra days off and make it longer.  I’ve told him but I think I shall have to tell him again.  Maybe we can go to Mantova for a day or to the lakes to my friend’s mother’s house.  Maybe.  It’s all a bit unclear.  But I really want to spend some time with him away from our houses, away from Milan, in a way, to force us to spend more time together.  See, I’m still worried about the fact that we have nothing in common; that we have done nothing ‘together'; that we’re not building a ‘history’.

Still, there are times when it seems so ‘easy’.  He shows me affection (in his way) and I try not to touch him too much, not to annoy him.  But, for certain now, the discussion is ‘where we spend the night’ not ‘will we spend the night together’.  And it usually revolves around practical things like he wants to see the dogs or the other night when he was getting up early to go to Spain (and therefore it was better to be at his place).

And he still makes me laugh.  And I still adore him.  And I miss him.

The next few weeks are important (I think).  His last relationship lasted 6 months.  The guy saying ‘I love you’ very often until one morning, after the ‘I love you’s of the night before said that it was all over.  F didn’t understand.  So now he is less trustful but I try to show him that I am true and faithful and honest and stick to my word.  It’s all I can do but still, I feel, he doesn’t really ‘relax’ into it all.  And, of course, nor am I ‘relaxed’ into it all, as you may tell from my posts.

And now I have 15 minutes before I leave and so I leave you, for a few days whilst I go to a place that, for me, might as well be the North Pole!

Pat Metheny plays Milan and, in spite of no vocals, I go and watch

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Even if I was good, in spite of what Gail might say, this cannot possibly describe how good it was.

But first, some background.  Music.  I like music but, with the exception of some songs/artists, I wouldn’t call myself a ‘music lover’.  I like what I like – some of it good and some of it, maybe, to you, bad.  I wasn’t brought up in a house full of music even if my paternal grandmother taught us to play the piano (well, “play” – I say play in the loosest sense).  Certainly it was not a household filled with classical music, my parents never really going in for record buying in a big way.

I found music at about the age of 13 when I was given a radio for Christmas and my maternal grandmother introduced me to Top of the Pops and, in particular, Mott the Hoople (because my mother used to sit on the same school bus as Mick Ralphs).  I listened to a crackly, distorted Radio Luxembourg, late at night, under the bedclothes.

My passion was voices and, especially, the more unusual, rougher, deep voices – ones that seemed to have something to say (or sing).

And then I started to go to concerts.  Many, many concerts.  I loved (still love) going to concerts.  There’s something about seeing someone ‘live’ that just cannot be captured by disc.

But, there was always a point in the concert (every concert) that I really disliked, almost hated.  This was the part where the musicians showed off their talent with whatever instrument they played.  I found (find) it boring.  Improvisation – just another word for making noise.  I mean I could tell they were talented but that didn’t make it enjoyable for me.  It’s noise without words and, for me, a song is all about the words and the singers voice.

We were going to see Pat Metheny.  F had played some tracks to me on several occasions.  But ours is a new relationship and I don’t want to say that I find it rubbish (which isn’t exactly true since I can tell he has great skill – it’s just boring).  He loves Pat Metheny and what he loves I love (but for entirely different reasons).  I bought the tickets.  €50 a pop!  And I wasn’t even going to enjoy it!

And so, it was last night.  At Teatro Smeraldo in Milan.  OK, so I would be bored but, at least, given he was away last week and we are both away this week, we would be together and maybe have a beer and pizza or something.

I wanted to go for a beer first but he was excited and wanted to go in and take our seats.  OK, I get it.  I would be the same for me with someone like Joan.  We go in and sit down.  I got the tickets late so we are near the back but, maybe, this will be better – at least for me.

The crowd is younger (not that young but younger than me) than I expected.  Full of nerdy-type people who listen to music without vocals.  Ah well, it will only be a couple of hours, I say to myself.

The lights dim and the crowd, whilst not exactly going wild, cheer and clap and are obviously keen to see ‘the man’.  I clap politely, as one does.  I am happy for F who is very excited about this.

The man comes on looking a little like a throw-back from the 60s.  He plays his guitar(s).  I try not to be bored.  I try to listen.  It’s OK, I suppose but I can’t help thinking that a bit of vocals never really hurt any song.  The songs he plays go on a little long for me.  About 3 minutes too long if I am honest.

And then…………

WARNING – if you intend to see him on his latest tour, I suggest you don’t read the rest of this as you will appreciate it so much more if it is a surprise.  If you’re one of those people not going to see him or who are but always find your Christmas presents before Christmas………..then carry on

Continue reading →

I wonder what it will take?

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Generally, I have a very positive outlook on life even when, sometimes, it is hard.

But on one thing, I guess, I am a doom-monger.  That is on the general, global economy – or certainly the way the the economy works now.

>This should be interesting reading and, whereas one shouldn’t believe everything (sometimes I think anything, given some of the recent journalistic “stories” put about by the media, them being, whilst not complete fabrication, certainly omitting important facts so as to slew the story in such a way as to make the point a complete fabrication – and I can give you examples if you would like) one reads or hears, there have been, over the last couple of years, enough of these type of stories, almost always buried and never refuted (or not that I’ve seen).

As I was reading this (and the comments below the story), our Engineering Manager came up to me and we talked a little.  He asked if I knew about PIGS.  I replied yes and that it was Portugal, Italy……at which point he stopped me and said that it wasn’t Italy but Ireland. Huh? I mean, there’s being faithful to one’s country and there’s bloody stupidity. He came to tell me it had been replaced by SWINE (Scotland, Wales, Ireland North and England). On that, given what I was reading, I could not add anything other than completely agree with him. I’m really not sure who’s in a worse position – us or them!

It seems that Buzz Lightyear’s (Burlusconi) boast about Italy being in a good position is really believed!  This on the day that there is a General Strike (for various reasons including the crisis) here in Italy.  After that we talked about housing and how the prices were still far too high.  At least he agreed with me on that one – sort of.  But still believing that his money was safer in housing than anything else!  Another colleague really doesn’t believe me when I try to explain that neither he nor I will be retiring at 65 or 67 or 68 or whatever fool age they’ve currently given as the retirement age.

Maybe I am wrong, of course.  I hope so, not that it is important to me one way or another, to be honest.  But still, I really can’t see how the hell this is going to work unless things change.

Sooner or later, the model has to be changed.  And it will cause great pain and hardship unless the people decide on something radical which they won’t because the people in power believe the crap that is coming from the bankers and the like.  No one can see a different way because they are too frightened of losing the power/wealth that they have. No one in power nor those without power.

I wonder what it will take?

Swimming in Glue

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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.

Off the Boil

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I am angry.  No, not just angry – absolutely furious.

OK, not now or, at least, not so bad but I was.  The thing is, I don’t really know why.  There was no obvious reason.  I woke up angry, was angry all day and went to bed angry.  To be honest, it felt like there was something wrong with me.  The worst was Saturday night/Sunday morning.  True, my ‘cold’ was dreadful or, at least, it sounded dreadful but it wasn’t that.  Or, it wasn’t only that.

On Sunday morning, as I took the dogs out, I was muttering to myself, asking myself why I was angry; amazed at how angry I felt inside.  I thought: ‘this is what it must be like to go insane’.  There was no sanity in the anger.  I realised that it had been around for several days and that some people had taken some of it by saying a wrong word or making a wrong gesture.

I thought perhaps it was the cold; or maybe because I was so tired; or maybe I was mentally insane.  I managed to keep it from F, thank goodness.

I write about it now because it has abated, if not entirely gone away.  I certainly feel ‘better’ even if the ‘cold’ is still with me; even if F is away all week in Germany; even if I do have to go to a Northern Country next week when I really don’t want to (and I have still to find a solution for the dogs); even if the weather has turned cold and wintry again; even if I am pissed off about certain things and towards certain people; even if ………….

But now I feel better.  And now (since I started writing this) I have booked the flights for next week and found out that my bank will offer me huge amounts of money in loans (has nothing changed in the last 18 months after all?) which I don’t want but may need if certain things occur (but the madness flowing through the world seems unstaunched) and so, suddenly, I seem happier.

And, the saga with my mobile phone continues.  Normally, in Italy, one expects to make two trips to sort anything out.  The first – you are armed with every sort of document that you may need and the second is for handing over the document that you never knew existed.  So far I have been to the TIM shop 6 times since the problem with the Direct Debit and the wish by TIM to charge me an extra €166 (for a €50 per month plan) started.  However, it may almost be sorted.  We may hope.

Still, the phone itself is great and the whole thing is much more pleasant than dealing with 3 who, to me, are magic only in their incompetence.

I am so fortunate

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“And we have to go to Vienna in April.  To party and for the funeral.”

“If you want to come”, he adds.

It may seem incongruous – party and funeral in the same sentence but I totally understand.  I question only why it is such a long time away.  He doesn’t know.  I try to explain that, perhaps, rather than a funeral it is a memorial service.  He says no but I think this is definitely lost in translation.  Surely you can’t have the funeral over a month after the death?

B had asked before that what we were intending to do for Easter.  Someone else had asked me before that, during the day.  I said, as I had said earlier, that we hadn’t talked about it.

“I might have to go to my parents'”, he says.

As I do, I said “OK”, not asking if I could come but wanting to.  I curb my tongue all the time.  My head say ‘Don’t Assume Anything’ and so I keep silent.

“You can come, if you like”, he adds.  Of course, what I want to say is something like ‘Of course I want to come.  Wild horses nor the devil himself couldn’t keep me from coming’.

“That would be nice”, I actually say, “but what about the dogs?  Can they come too?”.  He thinks about it.  “Yes, they can come too”.  It will be a family trip :-D

Of course, it may not happen.  I know that.  But it’s the thought that’s nice.  And, when I told a colleague this morning, she made the comment that I was going to be ‘introduced’ which, of course, I would be.  Not as his boyfriend or partner but just as his friend.  Just like his ex was, who, I found out when I met S the other week, still sends Christmas cards to them and they still ask after him.  But they don’t ‘know’.  He’s told me why and that’s OK.  I suspect they know but not asking directly means that nothing is confirmed and everyone lives in their cosy world without the need to ‘know’ everything.  Hey, this is his family and how he handles it is up to him just as how I handle mine is up to me.

“Was it love at first sight?”, B had asked, earlier still.  No, it wasn’t ‘love’.  He said that it wasn’t for him.  I didn’t think it was but when B had been asking about how we got together, it became a bit of a blur and I could only remember certain things.  And, so, I’m reading over the posts I wrote at that time.  This blogging thing is really useful :-D.

And, no, it wasn’t ‘love’ at first sight.  But it was something.  I had forgotten that he didn’t kiss other guys, generally, he had said, and certainly not on the first date.  And, yet, he had come over to me and kissed me.  He said, last night, that it was after several glasses of wine.  Well, a couple maybe.  But there must have been something, even for him.  I know I was confused as to how I felt (having read my entries) but it quickly developed into knowing the something; of having the Karl Spark.

He is sweet and I adore him.  I had texted him with B & my last minute plans for a meal and asked if he could come.  I said I would understand if he couldn’t.  He phoned me and we were already in the restaurant and on our starter.  He said he had just finished work and was tired.  I said that I understood and it was no problem but it would be nice if he could come.  He said he would come.

I know that he did it for me and for him.  For me because he knows how important B is to me and how I always am ready to meet the people he wants me to meet and also for him because I have spoken of B often and he wants to meet my friends.  He wants to see N&S before they leave too.  As soon as he finishes his trips (next week and the week after), perhaps?

And, yes, it curtailed our (B and my) conversation a bit.  But I did so want them to meet.

And then he came back to mine  He went to bed and was asleep before I got to bed, as he hasn’t slept well in the last couple of nights.  He got up late (10.30) but at least he slept a bit last night even if he did wake up in the night.  I woke up at 4 because my alarm went off.  Actually, it didn’t go off, messages came through and I had forgotten to change the phone to phone only.  And so, partly because of that and partly because the phone light was flashing, warning me that it was on a very low battery, and I always worry about not being woken up by the alarm, I found it difficult to return to sleep and, instead, I watched him and listened to his snoring and loved him even if, because he was too hot and so was I, we didn’t touch.  So, because of the snoring, I knew he slept some.

And, this morning, as I left him, he was asleep again, and I kissed him on his forehead and, unusually, he didn’t wake and, instead, we chatted through Facebook when he got up.

And I said that B had said he was lovely and asked about us going to Rome and he was all for it (in the same way that he was all for going to Pallanza) and I said that we would go after Carrara and Vienna and he said OK, that would be good.

And, reading back on my blog entries I realise that, although maybe not love at first sight, it was certainly something and almost at first sight and I realise again that I am so fortunate to have found him.